Thankfully, he had people like Shelly, his publicist, and Patricia, his private assistant, to remind him when he’d be encountering an old flame. It even seemed that at times, Patricia found his lack of sincerity regarding these women amusing. After all, many of them, at one time or another, considered him a boyfriend. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth. Never in forty-five years had Anthony Rawlings considered himself someone’s boyfriend. The concept was laughable.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the company of women; it was that, in the game of life, women were a liability, a risk that he wasn’t willing to take. He was a master at appearances. Accepting a woman as anything more than an accessory for an evening or as an outlet for physical needs would be to allow that woman to be part of his persona—part of his life. That had never happened, nor did Anthony Rawlings foresee it happening in the future. He had too much at stake.

Bringing his thoughts back to Claire, he felt a renewed sense of anticipation. New experiences were rare for him. Viewing the monitors as Claire pretended to read—since she hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes, he knew she wasn’t concentrating—he conceded that undoubtedly this would be a brand-new experience. He just had to figure out exactly what he would do with it—and with her. His grin reemerged.

Oh, he knew what he would do with her—whatever he wanted. The question that loomed in his mind was how she would respond. Although she’d willingly engaged in vanilla sex in Atlanta, since coming to Iowa, she’d been considerably less compliant; however, Anthony reminded himself, that was before—before her nearly two week time-out. After watching the short interaction between Catherine and Claire on the video recording, when Catherine informed her of his impending arrival, Anthony believed Claire had experienced an attitude adjustment.

Truly, he didn’t know how he wanted her to react when he entered the suite. The fact she was dressed appropriately held potential. Perhaps she could be trained to work off not only her bill, but the un-payable invoice that included the life of his grandfather—and perhaps some of his own billable time.

Briefly, Anthony changed a section of the screen to the Atlanta news. He’d been watching and scanning it daily during his travels in Europe. After over two weeks in his possession, he was happy to see that there hadn’t been any news reports or voiced concerns about the disappearance of Claire Nichols. It appeared as though Anthony’s efforts had paid off—emails, text messages, and Facebook messages all accomplished their goal. Claire’s friends and family believed she’d left town to pursue a new job opportunity—Anthony grinned as he switched the screen back to the S.E. suite—and their beliefs were in essence true. This was and would be her new job. Momentarily, he closed his eyes, as mental images of Claire’s growing list of job responsibilities filled his thoughts. Perhaps he should compile a written list?

A knock at his office door pulled Anthony from his sinister thoughts.

With a click of his mouse, the screens turned from the monitors in the S.E. suite to the closing stock market results for Rawlings Industries and its plethora of subsidiaries. Without inquiring, Anthony hit the button to allow access to his domain. It was after 9:00 PM and this was his home. He didn’t need to inquire as to who was about to enter his inner sanctuary; there were few possibilities.

“Mr. Rawlings, did you want to see me?” Catherine’s voice echoed as she stepped into Anthony’s office. Once the door was shut, she lifted a brow. “I would’ve thought you’d have investigated yourself, Anton.”

“I plan to. First, I want to know a few things.”

Catherine perched herself on the edge of a chair near his desk. “You weren’t watching from your trip?”

“I was, but there are some things you can’t decipher from a video feed—such as attitude. Tell me about the last two weeks; how have they been?”

Catherine smiled. “Educational. I happened to look inside the suite a few minutes ago. Did you see what she’s wearing?”

“I did. Did you tell her what to wear?”

“No, I told her that it was up to her.”

Anthony nodded as he sat back against his leather chair. “So, she seems to understand the importance of appearance—that’s good. What about interaction?”

“Until today, since you left, she’s only had access to Carlos. He delivered all her meals and returned for the dishes. The rest of the staff entered only when she was occupied with her showers.”

Anthony grinned. “Carlos—Carlos doesn’t speak English, at least not well.”

“I know.”

“Very good, Catherine, I applaud your resourcefulness.”

“Thank you, Anton. I may not agree with your plan; however, I told you I’d do my part. Now, what do you expect when you enter the suite?”

“What do I expect? I expect respect for the authority I obviously hold over every aspect of her life. At this moment, I expect her to have the good sense to recognize the magnitude of her current situation.”

Catherine leaned forward, her voice held the tone of a warning. “Caged animals fight. I saw the scratches on your arms when she first arrived.”

“That won’t happen again.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

Anthony nodded confidently. “I am.” He wondered if Catherine would ask for more clarification. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d share his plans. After all, those plans were why his excitement at their reunion was once again growing. Anthony glanced at his watch. “Did you tell her I’d be there at 10:00 PM?”

“I told her between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM. She seemed desperate for me to stay and talk. I believe she’s lonely.”

“I saw that on the video.” The woman he’d observed in Atlanta was both social in her work and her private life. Perhaps this time away from others was beneficial. He planned to emphasize how he controlled her interactions. His grin broke through his facade with the realization—there wouldn’t be anything he didn’t control.

“Thank you, Catherine. I think I can handle this from here.”

She stood. “This was very risky for a man of your—”

“Thank you, Catherine,” he interrupted. “It’s a roll of the dice. High risks yield the best results. It’s about time I learn if your manipulation has added to my yields.”

Before stepping from the room, Catherine smiled. “I’m sure you’ll capitalize on your investment … Mr. Rawlings.”

Anthony looked at his watch again, 9:51 PM. One last click of his mouse and he saw Claire, up on the screen, pacing near the fireplace in her suite. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about her, from her family to her medical history. He knew that she and her sister were all that remained of the Sherman Nichols line. He also knew that she liked her coffee with cream, and that about six months ago, Claire had had the birth control device inserted. During his observations, he didn’t find her to be promiscuous; the doctor’s notations stated something about convenience. Grinning toward the screen, Anthony agreed: the insert was convenient.

Standing, Anthony put on and buttoned his double-breasted suit jacket. No, he’d been wrong when he thought the actual acquisition had been the climax—there would definitely be many more to come!

Anthony depressed the button on the side of the doorframe while simultaneously hearing the beep and opening the door. Claire’s eyes opened wide while she remained seated in the chair near the fireplace. The last time he’d seen her—in person—she’d looked like hell, wearing a robe, her hair a mess, and her face discolored. Tonight was definitely an improvement. It wasn’t just her appearance, although Anthony approved; it was her demeanor. That morning, nearly two weeks ago, Claire had been out of control—demanding, yelling, and crying. It wasn’t that she was in control now; Anthony saw the fear in her eyes. It was that she was … composed.

“Good evening, Claire.”

She stood and replied, “Good evening, Anthony. Shall we sit?”

When he stepped toward her, he noticed her quick intake of air. Confidently, he sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. He watched intently as she sat on the edge of the chair with her back straight. The hum of the fireplace fan filled the room as he considered the woman before him. Without a doubt, she was an improvement over the one he’d left on the floor of the same suite.

He waited to see if she would ramble. When only the fireplace blower prevailed, Anthony spoke, “Do you think you’re ready to continue with our agreement? Or do you need some more time alone to consider the situation?”

“After consulting my attorney, I feel I have no choice but to continue with our agreement.”

Anthony felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. What the hell? He glared toward the woman who had the audacity to sound trite. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think; joviality has sustained me.”

He tilted his head. The woman had nerve—he’d give her that. “I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”

He sat silently and contemplated this petite woman who had the fortitude to maintain eye contact, and answer his questions with a hint of bravado, all while knowing she was at his mercy. Or did she know? Did she think this was some kind of sick reality TV show and any minute it would be over? He stared. “Tell me what you’ve learned during your reflection time.”