Inferno Anthology (197 page)

After midnight Claire lifted her head to meet Anthony’s soft gaze. “I really need to go home.” Claire enjoyed the soft 700-count sheets a little too much. “I don’t want to disturb you. So I can get a taxi downstairs.” When she started to shift away, he gently reached for her arm.

“If I promise you a ride in the morning, would you consider some more dessert?” Anthony’s expression, as well as another of his features, informed Claire he wanted her to choose the dessert.

She knew she wasn’t scheduled to be at work the next day. “I don’t want to disrupt your schedule. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I promise this is not a disruption. And maybe after more dessert, we could have another glass of wine. There is still some in the bottle from room service.” The last time she looked at a clock, it was 1:15 AM.

Even at that moment, Claire didn’t realize the consequence of their napkin agreement.

As Claire lay on the sofa recalling the events that led her to this place and this situation, she couldn’t recall traveling. She remembered a car, but couldn’t recall any other part of this house. She couldn’t remember any other memories of Atlanta. That time: 1:15 AM, was her last conscious memory of her life.

From the other windows near the bed, she saw only trees. Because she couldn’t see more of the house, Claire decided she must be at the end of the dwelling. Even if her windows opened, they were high off the ground. If she tried to jump from this height, she’d break something. Each morning the skies lightened to shades of gray, and in the evening they darkened too soon. Keeping track of days became difficult.

Staring out at the unfamiliar landscape, Claire questioned her location. She told herself when Catherine returned she’d ask where they were. Catherine didn’t come. The young non-English speaking man came and went. Day after day, no one came to talk to her. The food came and the room was cleaned. Clothes were miraculously washed and returned to her closet or drawers, but no person was ever seen. She was alone. The isolation was hell. It may not leave physical markings, but there was no question, in Claire’s mind, it was a neater form of Anthony’s abuse.

Although Claire wasn’t a TV watcher and the TV in her suite didn’t receive many stations, she did check the news each day to learn the date. On April 2, she finally heard a repeated knock at the door.

During her thirteen days of isolation Claire learned a few key things. First, after two or three days she realized the
Weather Channel
would do local weather. The first time she sat to watch, she stared stunned. The midnight announcer, Shelby, graduated from Valparaiso the year before her. Claire watched in disbelief. Why was Shelby on the
Weather Channel
while she was being held prisoner in a house in Iowa? The local weather came from Iowa City, Iowa.

Claire discovered her windows faced southeast. This was discovered on one of the few days during which the sun actually shone. Though the hours of sunshine grew in length by minutes each day, the outside still looked cold. With the insulated windows and warm fireplace, Claire’s only knowledge of outdoor temperature remained Shelby and her co-anchors.

As a means of escape, Claire turned to reading. The built-in bookcases were filled with current bestsellers. There were series and individual books. When she was a child she loved to read, but life had become too busy. That no longer seemed to be a problem.

Claire also discovered a small refrigerator continually stocked with water and fruit. No one asked what she wanted to eat, and truly she wasn’t hungry. There wasn’t anything for her to do to build an appetite. Each day she showered, dressed, and primped a little. Her initial rebellion became meaningless with no one to rebel against. One positive, with each passing day, her bruises faded from red, to blue, to purple, to green, to a now very indistinct yellow.

The knock came again. Food usually entered after the first knock. This person was waiting for an invitation. Claire didn’t think it was Anthony; he didn’t knock.
Could it be Catherine?

Slowly, she approached the door, and asked, “Yes? Who’s there?” The anticipation of actually hearing a voice stimulated her as she waited for a response.

Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal. It strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.

—Unknown

“MS. CLAIRE, MAY
I come in?”

Claire’s heart leaped. The woman she barely knew was the one person Claire prayed would come to her each of the last thirteen days. Excited to use her voice again, she said, “Yes, Catherine, please come in.” It wasn’t as though Claire could open the door from her side. Claire heard the
beep
.

Catherine opened the door and smiled sadly at Claire. Claire wanted to hug her, but something in Catherine’s eyes said, “No, not now. I wasn’t able to come up here before.” It was as if she spoke, yet her lips never moved.

“Ms. Claire, you seem… well rested. I have a message for you.” Claire nodded, anticipating the message from Anthony. “Mr. Rawlings will be coming to see you tonight. He will be late in the city. He said to expect him between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM.”

Claire looked at the clock near the bed. It was only 4:35 PM. “Okay.” She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly refuse his entering. He didn’t ask, only proclaimed. “Will we be dining?”

“You’ll dine alone. His arrival will be too late for dinner.” Catherine looked as though she wanted to say more, but knew better. Maybe someday Claire hoped she would be like that—know better. Then again, hopefully, she would be out of here before then.

“Catherine, could you please help me prepare?”

“No, miss. I’m sorry, but your attire and presentation are to be of your own doing.” Catherine turned to leave the suite.

“Please wait. Catherine, can’t you please stay and talk to me, even for a little while? After all, we have five hours before Mr. Rawlings will arrive.”

“I must go, but may I say, you look beautiful? I like your face… well—ah… clear.” Catherine smiled a real and tender smile and exited the suite.

Somehow Claire knew it was a mind game. He was testing her to see how she would dress, look, and act. He was also testing her to determine if the mere promise of his presence caused uneasiness. She decided this examination was an opportunity to respond to her circumstances—instead of react. He would take her body. That reality had been made painfully clear; however, she would
not
let him have her mind. He wanted her to spend the next five hours alone, dreading his arrival, filled with fear and trembling. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Claire had five hours to prove she was in control of her life: if not to him, then at least to herself. She walked into her closet and, like a general selecting soldiers, perused the racks and shelves selecting an outfit that would bolster her self-confidence. She found it: a black dress with a long flowing skirt. The idea of being near him in a dress made her queasy, but she liked the boldness.

With each flash of the mascara, or zip of the flowing black satin dress, she reviewed her decision. Escape from this room was not possible. The only way to get out of here was to concede to whatever he demanded and find another path. Looking at herself in the mirror, Claire straightened her neck, righted her shoulders, and confirmed her mission. She had tried physically fighting. It had been counterproductive and only seemed to intensify Anthony’s resolve. She needed to yield—temporarily—to his demands in order to access a means of exodus. Completing her hairstyle, she dissected her plan. It may have seemed like surrender, but her gut told her that resigning to him, with a straight face and experiencing the effects of her verbalization, took more control than the pleas, accusations, and fighting of two weeks earlier.

At 8:45 PM Claire buckled the Jimmy Choo sandals and stood before the mirror. She looked the part; she just needed to perform it. With each tick of the clock her nerves wreaked havoc with her stomach. The meal she’d consumed hours ago threatened to revolt.

Damn him! She knew this was his plan, and she refused to give him the gratification. Reaching for her current novel by the bed, she went to the overstuffed chair and sat. Although she read the words, the text made no sense. She couldn’t concentrate as her chest thumped with a too rapid heartbeat, and her mouth tasted like cotton. Getting up, Claire retrieved a bottle of water. While her sweaty palms made opening the cap difficult, the water helped her dry mouth—until it hit her stomach. Fearing she would need to run for the bathroom, she remembered to breathe—deep cleansing breaths. Miraculously, her nerves began to calm as the flames of the fire warmed, and she attempted to concentrate on the words of her book.

At 9:58 PM, preceded by the
beep
, her suite door opened. Anthony walked in like he’d been there earlier that day—not two
weeks
ago. Dressed in a dark gray double-breasted silk suit, he appeared heavier than she remembered; maybe not heavy—massive, broad-chested. She wasn’t sure of his height, but guessed about six four which would make him an entire twelve inches taller than she. His age showed in fine lines around his dark eyes. Claire estimated him to be in his late thirties.

“Good evening, Claire.” His voice rumbled through the suite.

The heat from the fireplace helped to ward off trembling. Claire stood and nodded. “Good evening, Anthony.” Taking command, she suggested, “Shall we sit?”

Anthony sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. Claire sat on the edge of the chair and looked directly into his eyes. She wouldn’t show fear; although his dark eyes were the scariest things she’d ever seen.

“Do you think you are 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’s eyes darkened at the mention of a consultation. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”

Keeping her smile intact, she said, “I’ve had a lot of time to think, joviality has sustained me.”

“I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”

The two sat in silence while the fireplace blower hummed in the background. Claire used every ounce of control to appear calm while Anthony pondered. He remained seated against the back of the sofa, yet his jaw seemed to clench as his eyes devoured her, scanning and taking her in. She wished she could read his eyes. Then suddenly they caught hers. “Tell me what you have learned during your reflection time.”

“I’ve learned I have many clothes, very nice clothes, may I add. I have a balcony that I can’t access because the door is locked. I have a refrigerator and small microwave, but honestly, the microwave seems unnecessary as I also have food brought to me three times a day.”

“That’s all very nice.” Anthony said with a hint of sarcasm. “But what have you discovered about your situation? Do you even know where you are?” His mocking tone suggested confidence that only he held the answers he sought.

Claire contemplated her response. Should she be honest and tell him she learned Iowa City from the Weather Channel? What if that resulted in loss of TV stations; she might not know what day it is. Then again, if she lied and said she didn’t know and he caught her in a lie, what would happen? Maintaining an air of confidence, she said, “I’m in Iowa, or at least somewhere near Iowa City.”

Gripping the arm of the sofa with his right hand, Claire watched his muscles tense. Each word became more exaggerated as he spoke, “And you learned this from whom?”

“I learned it from the
Weather Channel
—Local on the Eights. The local weather for this area comes from Iowa City, Iowa.” Claire continued to sound as lighthearted as possible.

Anthony’s body relaxed and he nodded his head in approval. “Very well, that will spare me telling you.” Claire wanted to ask how she got there, but before she could, he continued, “For the sake of clarity, since that seemed to be a problem in the past, you are aware that your indebtedness
to me
can only be determined paid
by me
?”

Claire swallowed. This is what she anticipated. Smiling, she nodded.

His voice, was strong and authoritative. “I prefer verbal confirmation.”

“I am aware that you are the only one who can decide when my debt is paid in full.” The calmness of her voice surprised even Claire. She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t notice her hands balled into fists with her nails biting into her own palms. If she concentrated, she could remember to relax her hands, but at this moment, her concentration was needed elsewhere.

“You are also aware that your duties require you to be available to me whenever, wherever, and however I demand?” His dark eyes never faltered, staring directly at her, yet his body language looked relaxed, arrogant. He was definitely a man willing to push Claire to the brink. It was like watching a poker game, pushing the odds. Would there be a payoff? Or would someone blink?