Exhaling, he realized he’d lost interest in the information on the screen of his iPad. Closing his eyes, he defined the woman next to him. She was his acquisition, his prisoner—a sacrificial lamb for the sins of her forefathers. She was his; he needn’t concern himself with worries over her emotional well-being. After all, her physical needs were more than being met. He’d spent a fortune to rid her of debt. She lived on a multi-million-dollar estate, and her clothes, as well as food, were amply supplied. She also had an active sex life. While pleasing her wasn’t his top concern, she obviously enjoyed herself quite a bit of the time.
Tony worked to push his thoughts away. He had a lot to accomplish before he left for Europe, and truly, Claire Nichols’ happiness, or lack thereof, needn’t clutter his radar. As they neared the estate, he remembered his last conversation with Catherine. He knew that she didn’t mean her comments the other morning. After all, she’d apologized for them. Glancing again at Claire, he questioned if his behavior yesterday afternoon and night was incited by that conversation. He tried to deny it, but Catherine’s concerns ate at him. Even now he was thinking about that conversation:
At a little after 3:30 AM, there was no need for formalities. Catherine didn’t knock or address him with any sort of conventionality as she opened the door to his office, secured her bathrobe, and began speaking, “Just because you can’t sleep, doesn’t mean that I don’t. Tell me why on earth you summoned me here at this ungodly hour. Besides, don’t you need to leave for New York this morning?”
“Good morning, to you, too. I will be leaving in a few hours, and I woke you because I’m taking Claire. You need to pack her things.”
Catherine shook her head. “You’re what? Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m taking Claire with me to New York, and I believe that perhaps it’s you who’s delusional. This early hour has taken your candidness to the extreme. Do you have a problem with my decision?”
Catherine sat on one of the chairs by his desk and shook her head from side to side. “First, you start sleeping in her suite. Then, you take her out on public appearances. Now, you’re going to take her to New York? They’re already speculating about the two of you in the press. Are you trying to put her in the spotlight?”
Tony shrugged his shoulders as a faint grin emerged.
Catherine cocked a brow. “Explain yourself. Tell me, are you falling for her?”
“No. How about you? Is she fulfilling some unmet motherly need?”
Catherine suddenly stood and the chair where she’d been sitting pushed against the wall. Her gray eyes glared in response. “Anton, that isn’t even possible. You know I don’t want to discuss that.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “I won’t make assumptions about your motives, if you don’t make assumptions about mine.”
“My motives. My motives!” Her volume increased. “I’ll tell you my motives. They’re to keep the two of us out of jail. I mean, seriously, if you’d stayed with the plan, the one we’ve had for a long time—if you’d stuck to that, there would be no witnesses, no connections, and we’d be safe. This—” she waved her hands toward the ceiling, “—was not our plan, and now you want to make her even more publicly visible?”
“My dear Catherine Marie …” he said, using her middle name was his way of calming her. She no longer used the name Marie, yet it reminded them both of his grandfather and, therefore, usually helped to soothe her temper. “… it’s all about appearances. I’ll admit that I’ve been spending most of my nights in her bed.” He leaned forward. “If you were in my shoes, or out of them, I believe you’d do the same. It has more benefits than sleeping alone. Besides, technically, it’s my bed, in my house, on my estate, and I can sleep anywhere I damn well please.”
“I believe you’re putting too much emphasis on those benefits. They’re affecting your thinking.”
He chuckled. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve taken her out in public. She’s been seen with me. While we’re in New York, I’ve told her that she’ll shop.”
Catherine resumed her seat. “Shop? So you want her to be visible?” She sat for a moment and contemplated. “Do you believe she’ll be noticed? I’m not sure that the press will recognize her. Not without you, I mean.”
“Maybe not, but Eric will. He’ll get pictures.” Tony’s grin grew. “I consider it part of our insurance policy.”
“She’ll need to spend more money than she did last time. If you want to convince the world she’s after your money, she’ll need to buy more than a few blouses and a book.”
“I’ll emphasize that in my directive.” He leaned back. “Faith, Marie, have faith.”
“All right, since you’ve already put her out there, the more insurance the better. I just think it would’ve been better to not have had her out in public with you in the first place.” She stood and walked toward the door. “I think it would’ve been better to stick with the original plan.”
“She’s not on a vacation,” Tony reminded in a low, yet direct tone.
“Really?” Catherine turned toward him. “She dresses in the best clothing, she doesn’t lift a finger, and now she’s traveling. So she’s satisfying your needs. I don’t think she hates that—anymore.”
He smirked. “Are you surprised? For your information, I could provide a long list of references who … don’t hate it.”
“Do I really care? No, I don’t. I’m concerned.”
“That?”
“That you’re letting down your guard. I mean, who’s really in control? How much is you, and how much is her manipulating you? You’re a man. Men … well, men forget sometimes what part of their body should do the thinking.” She softened her tone. “Anton, I don’t want you to be swayed.”
As Catherine went on about her concern, Tony remembered the night before in Claire’s suite. It was the first time she’d willingly offered herself to him—and he allowed it. He didn’t direct her movements or give instructions. He’d allowed her to seduce him, and now he’s taking her to New York. Could Catherine be right?
When Catherine quieted, Tony replied, sounding more confident than he truly felt. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t wake you for a debate. I woke you so that you could do what you do, and have her ready to board my plane by 6:00 AM. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can do your part of this project?”
“Yes.” Her neck stiffened. “I can do that.” She rubbed her hands over the softness of her robe. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sure Claire Nichols isn’t manipulating you. You’re in much more control than that. I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint Nathaniel that way. Besides, it sounds like this public appearance thing is well planned and thought out.”
Tony nodded as Catherine disappeared around the partially open door.
So what? He liked sleeping in Claire’s bed? That wasn’t Claire’s manipulation; it was his domination. He could wake her at any hour and expect complete compliance. Those were his thoughts as they passed through his gates and he placed his tablet in his briefcase. Moments later Claire’s words refocused his attention.
“Tony, you said you built your house about fifteen years ago?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
She continued to gaze toward the house. “I’m not used to seeing it from the front—it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He looked out the window as Eric stopped the car. It was a beautiful structure, an architectural wonder.
Claire continued, “But it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”
He nodded. “I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.” His thoughts went to Nathaniel. He wasn’t disappointing him; this house was a testament to that.
As they both exited the car, Claire’s eyes widened with wonder. It was as if she were seeing the house for the first time, not as if she’d been living there for months. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a
house like this?”
He looked at the combination of rock and stone—memories of an earlier time threatened to come forward. He pushed them away. “It was my grandfather’s, not my parents. My father was weak. However, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.” Tony wasn’t sure what propelled him to share that bit of information. He’d blame it on his recent thoughts of Nathaniel. No matter, it was true, and there was no way Claire would know her connection—but he did. Walking toward his office, Claire followed a few steps behind. Her sudden acknowledgement of the place wherein she’d been living for so long was amusing.
“It truly is amazing,” she said. “Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”
He shrugged. “Mostly. I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.” Tony looked up from his desk to a bewildered expression. Suddenly, her placid veneer was gone. The wheels of understanding were visibly turning in her head. Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”
Her voice quivered, “Y-you mean my suite is under surveillance? L-like there are cameras?”
Revulsion emanated from her pained expression. When their eyes met, his grin widened. “Yes, of course. It’s all video-recorded and saved.” Claire visibly paled as she backed toward the wall and sat on the nearest chair. Basking in her newfound discomfort, Tony added, “Perhaps we could have a premiere viewing and critique? Then we could work on revisions.”
“Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”
He felt his power and control return. It was as if he’d just received a transfusion of domination. Yes, yesterday and last night he’d taken her body, but he’d done that before. This was so much more—her mind and her spirit. This was what she’d successfully kept from him. He stood taller with the revelation: it was now his for the taking, or it soon would be.
“But, my dear Claire,” he cooed with mock adoration, “I am not. Now, the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed—only I have that. They do have a view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without your seeing them.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she asked, “But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”
“Because I can—I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” As Tony started to walk toward the hall doors, Claire sat statuesque. He reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” When she still didn’t move, he casually added, “and in case you’re wondering, yes, this room, too, is under surveillance—except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He gestured toward the place where he’d administered her first lesson in actions and consequences.
While her sudden look of desperation inspired him, he needed to go into Iowa City. The work at his corporate office wouldn’t wait. “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair now.”
Apparently, she was still capable of obeying, as she silently walked past him toward the stairs. Closing the door to his office, he smirked. Who’s manipulating whom? He couldn’t wait for the viewing.
As Tony went about his business at his corporate office, his mind continually looped back to his video library—there were so many. Between phone calls, spreadsheets, and meetings, he debated about which would be best to show Claire. He knew that she didn’t want to see them—or star in them—or acknowledge them. It was obvious by her reaction. Until she responded so vehemently, he had no idea she’d detest the idea that much, but once she did, he knew he’d found that missing piece of the puzzle. That made the viewing all that much more special. Now, as he departed for ten days in Europe, he could leave confident, knowing without a doubt that he was in control.
It was Tony’s idea to eat on the patio. He called Catherine from the car and told her to have dinner served outside. He wanted the distractions of the outdoors. He hadn’t been this excited about his plans for Claire in a while. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy all of the uses he’d invented for her, but this was new. Concentrating on eating dinner in her suite or in the dining room with only the two of them would’ve been too difficult. The outdoor setting worked as a distraction—for him. Claire seemed to be another story. She wasn’t her normal chatty self. She looked the part, dressed appropriately for dinner, nodded and responded at all the right times as Tony talked about New York, her shopping, his meetings, and his impending European trip, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. As much as he wanted to broach the subject of their movie night, he didn’t, partially out of curiosity. He wondered if she would bring it up. There were times when she surprised him by jumping headfirst into conversations he was confident that she’d rather avoid. That candor and resilience amazed him. Tonight was different; Claire emanated an aura of defeat before the battle even began. No, he wouldn’t bring it up; it was too enjoyable watching Claire push her food around her plate and sip her iced tea. Perhaps, he pondered, she hoped that by avoiding the subject it would go away. That would not happen! His anticipation was palpable.
“You haven’t eaten much of your dinner,” Tony assessed.
She shook her head. “I guess I’m not hungry. I think traveling wore me out. I believe I just need to get some sleep.”
He smirked. “You napped today.”
Her eyes widened as they immediately looked to him. He loved the mixture of emotions that he witnessed flashing before him. Behind the green, he saw the realization that she’d just been caught in her attempt to sway the course of the evening. As a bonus, she also received confirmation of his ability to visually intrude into all aspects of her life. In all actuality, it had been Catherine who’d told him she’d napped, yet if Claire thought it was another example of his omnipresent power, who was he to dissuade her?
Softly, she replied, “Yes, I did; however, I’m not feeling well.”
He grinned as he pushed back his chair and extended his hand. “Then, my dear, let’s leave dinner behind.”
Her eyes lightened as she placed her hand in his and stood. “Thank you.”
“Oh, there’s no need to thank me. I do, however, find it interesting that after all of these months, you believe you have the power to manipulate me and alter my plans.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, peering at him through her lashes.
When they walked through the sunporch and into the house, Claire turned toward the foyer. Tony’s touch redirected her movements. “No, my dear, we aren’t going upstairs.” She inhaled and looked down. Tony lifted her chin. “I am a man of my word. I promised you something special tonight, and I fully intend to deliver.”
“Tony, please … I-I’m really not feeling well. I think it was the trip. It was great to go someplace, but I’m not used to being away from here. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“But you see,” he mocked, “I won’t be here tomorrow, so our movie night can’t wait.”
He felt her tremble as they changed direction and headed for the lower level. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head and took a ragged breath. “N-no, I don’t want to do this.”
As they walked down the stairs, he pulled her close. When his lips grazed her ear, her neck stiffened. Seductively, he whispered, “You’ve said that before. Has it ever stopped my plans?”
Her shoulders sagged. “No.”
“Then, my dear, experience should tell you that it won’t change my plans for tonight. I want you to see what an amazing future you have in movies. You’re a star! We can be like those reviewers on television, both saying what we like and what we don’t like about each scen
e. Of course, that’ll be from a totally outside objective view. What we like while making the movies, our subjective preferences, will be incredibly obvious. Oh, you’ll see in a few minutes.” He released his hold, allowing her to settle onto one of the large, overstuffed seats. Although her eyes were downcast, wetness covered her cheeks, and her shoulders shuddered in silence. He chuckled. “Since you didn’t eat, and this is like a premiere, would you like me to call the kitchen for popcorn?”
She shook her head. The movement was so slight. Had it not been for the movement of her hair hanging over her face, he wouldn’t have seen it.
Tony cleared his throat, reached for her chin, and brushed the renegade strands away. He wasn’t going to allow her to hide her thoughts from him. There was too much happening behind those damn green windows. His words came slowly, deliberately, and with painstaking control. “I asked you a question. Do you really want me to repeat it?”
“No, I heard you.” Her voice grew stronger, starting at a whisper and becoming bold. “No, I don’t want popcorn. I want this over.” She started to stand. “I don’t want it over!” She looked him in the eye. “I don’t want it to start!”
His chest met hers. “But it will.” His tone left no room for debate.
Obediently, her knees buckled and she collapsed back into her soft chair.
As Tony reached for the remote, Claire asked, “Why? What’s the point in this? I know what’s happened. Why do you want me to see it?”
His sinister smile returned, as did the tightness in his slacks. If Claire hadn’t been so preoccupied, she’d undoubtedly have noticed. “You seemed surprised that these videos exist. I want you to understand: I’m a man of my word. If I say something exists, it exists. If I say you will do something, you will do it. There are no gray areas. Do you understand?”