Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

“Please—I don’t want any of this.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He intensified his grasp. “I like my questions answered the first time. Do you understand?”

Her neck straightened. The sudden determination he saw in her expression surprised him as she replied, “I understand, and despite what you think you may have sensed, NO! I have not enjoyed myself.”

Oh, there was fire yet to tame.

When he didn’t release her chin, Claire’s tone softened, “Now, may I please go take another shower?”

Amused by her candor, he replied, “First, my dear, I don’t believe you; however, I believe that you believe you. Therefore, I’ll allow this little bit of dishonesty to go unpunished. I recommend that you remember for future reference, I will not tolerate lying or deception. When it is discovered, you will be sorry. Second, expressing gratitude for positive consequences is not only appreciated, it’s expected. So, Claire, what do you say when someone does something nice for you, like for example, untying your hands?”

He savored the moment as she comprehended his words. With her neck still straight, her words issued forth, saturated with a combination of rebellion and sarcasm. “Thank you, Anthony.”

He released her chin. “Very good—do you remember my instructions?”

“Yes, I remember.” She stayed still. When he didn’t speak, she added, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Then you may go.”

He watched appreciatively as she walked unclothed to the bathroom and closed the door. Yes, she would come around. It may be a slow and agonizing process, but he had all the time he wanted. After the bathroom door shut, he walked around the bed and pulled on his trousers. He, too, could use a shower. Momentarily, he considered joining Claire. The smile that emerged had more to do with her reaction than his actions. There would be plenty of time for that. He’d told her that he would leave and return, and he was curious to see if she’d follow his directions. If she didn’t, there would be consequences.

As he exited the suite, he called the kitchen. “Have dinner sent to Claire’s suite in an hour.”

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences.

—Robert Green Ingersoll

From the speaker on Anthony’s desk, he listened to his assistant’s voice, “Shelly is on line three.”

Anthony’s thoughts went from the spreadsheet on his screen to his publicist. “Patricia, put her through.”

Immediately, he heard Shelly’s concern. “Mr. Rawlings, Jennifer McAdams is in Italy on a photo shoot, and it’s lasted longer than she planned.”

“And you’re telling me this because—”

“Because, sir, she’s supposed to accompany you this evening to the Quad City Symphony at the Adler Theater.”

Anthony ran his fingers through his hair. Damn—he’d forgotten all about that, and he actually enjoyed Jenny’s company, unlike many of the women he’s been seen with over the years. “Well, then I’ll cancel.”

“With all due respect, you can’t. The theater will remain open because of your donation. They’re planning on your attending, and there’s a long list of guests coming to see you …”

Shelly rambled about the importance of his presence, as Anthony thought more about the outing. Could this be an unplanned opportunity to test Claire outside the estate? His grin emerged—outside. She’d just recently earned her way outside of the house. Truthfully, she’d been doing much better than he imagined, and outside would’ve happened much sooner, if only she’d asked. He shifted slightly in his large leather chair. Even the slightest thought of his complete control over her life had an effect on his body.

Shelly’s voice brought him back to the subject at hand. The idea of a new test intrigued him. This would push her outside of her newly established comfort level. Besides, if she accompanied him and succeeded, she could earn more privileges. If she failed—well, they both knew what that could bring.

Shelly’s voice quieted. Anthony waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “What was that?”

“Do you want me to call Julia?”

“No.” Although, like Jenny, Julia too was a model, she was too high-maintenance for Anthony’s liking.

“Do you plan to attend alone?”

Anthony wrestled with his thoughts. If he took Claire out in public and she failed, wouldn’t Davenport, Iowa, be a better testing ground, than say Chicago or New York? He could manage damage control much better in his own backyard, and taking her out into the world would accomplish another goal. Anthony truly wasn’t convinced Claire contemplated the magnitude of his power. Oh, she saw his wealth regarding the estate, and her behavior had steadily improved over the last two months; however, did she really comprehend his reach? Did she truly understand that any attempts at escape could be quickly thwarted? Taking her to an event where he’s the man of honor would show her firsthand the depth and breadth of his power. Anthony made his decision: it was time. “I won’t be attending alone.”

“You realize if your assistant accompanies you to any more events the papers will start to speculate.”

What? He hadn’t even thought about taking Patricia. Yes, she’d accompanied him to a few events, but it was totally platonic and, at the time, an outing of convenience. “I can assure you that speculating would be all they could do. She’s only accompanied me a few times, and they were all business-related. There’s nothing to speculate about. I’ll be taking someone else.”

“Would you like to ask this lady, or would you like me to call her?”

He had to stifle the chuckle that rumbled in the back of his throat. Ask? He had no intentions of asking this person. This person didn’t have a choice in the matter—or any matter. After the first few glitches, she seemed to have come to terms with this reality. This outing would be another duty she could fulfill. Anthony was growing tired of the parade of women on his arm. He had a lot of deals in the works, and listening to some woman prattle small talk didn’t sound appealing. If he took Claire, he could avoid the whole wine-and-dine thing. They would simply attend the symphony and come home. It was much simpler.

“No, I don’t need you to call.”

“Mr. Rawlings, I’ll need a name.”

Of course she would. “Her name is Claire Nichols. She’s from Atlanta.”

Shelly didn’t speak.

“Did you get that?”

“I did, sir. Is there more?”

“No. That’s all that needs to be released.”

“Perhaps you’d like me to do some research and verify that there isn’t a history that could negatively affect you?”

“No.” He sat taller. “There’s no history. If that’s all, I have work to do.”

“Mr. Rawlings, can you please spell Nichols for me?”

Anthony gripped the receiver. “N-I-C-H-O-L-S.” He tried to soften his tone. After all, Shelly was paid very well to maintain his reputation. He’d never before turned down her help in assuring its untarnished veneer. He explained, “I’ve already had her investigated.” Sighing. “You know me, Shelly. I wouldn’t take that risk; however, she’s not the type of woman I normally see. The whole public thing is new to her. I don’t want her getting unwanted publicity.”

Shelly exhaled. “Yes, I can imagine that would be difficult. Very well, her name and hometown will be all the information that I release. Thank you, Mr. Rawlings. That’s all I have at the moment.”

“Very well.” He hung up the receiver. Shit! Was that the right call? Rolling his mouse over the mouse pad, Anthony Rawlings’ spreadsheets came back to life. A committee had worked days—perhaps weeks—compiling all the data; yet he wasn’t seeing the numbers. No, he was seeing the woman back at the estate.

In the beginning, Anthony worked to make her a faceless person—perhaps like an employee at a business he was about to close. He told himself that she was nothing to him. Allowing Claire to pay her family’s debt was not Nathaniel’s original plan; however, Anthony reasoned, that some fates were worse than death. Catherine disagreed—at first—but she came around, and although he valued her opinion, Anthony’s money propelled their plan. He’d do whatever he damn well wanted. He saw by the way Catherine pursed her lips and stared, that she wasn’t pleased with his decision, but when it came to this matter Anthony wouldn’t budge—Claire was different.

Truly, it was ironic that he’d made his case—his basis for his decision—based on the fact that she was unique, when he continually told himself she wasn’t special. That was why he wanted to take her to the symphony—because she wasn’t special. He wouldn’t need to listen to her small talk, although he knew for a fact that Claire liked to talk! He wouldn’t need to do anything that was expected on a date. Anthony could do whatever he wanted—this wasn’t a date!

This outing would be a test. He squared his shoulders and dialed Catherine’s cell number on his private cell phone. She answered after only a few rings. “Yes, Anton?” Obviously, she was alone. In the company of others, she maintained a more formal appearance.

“Have Claire ready by 6:00 PM. She’s accompanying me to the symphony in Davenport.”

“Excuse me?”

Anthony slowed his words. “Did I stutter?”

“I just think I misunderstood you. I’m not sure she’s ready for this. Do you realize what could happen if—”