Inferno Anthology (208 page)

Tony smirked at her desperation. His tone dripped with ruthlessness. “Maybe we should watch some more—find out where you need improvement.”

“I’ll do anything you say—anything you want me to do differently—just tell me. Just
please
don’t make me watch.” Claire was now on the floor in front of Tony, kneeling, crying. She hated that she’d been reduced to begging, but these videos ruined her whole compartmentalization. How could she keep these awful memories hidden if she was forced to watch them?

His dark eyes pierced her soul. His voice was cold as ice. “You
will
do whatever I say, even if it is to watch, but…” He hesitated to add emphasis. “…I don’t want to spend my last night, for over a week, here with you in this condition.” He stood, causing her to fall back onto the floor. “I’ll be in your suite in a few minutes.”

Claire stood.

Tony continued, “Go up and get ready. Wash your face! You look like hell, and as far as attire… I’m thinking some new lingerie.”

When she started to leave the theater, Tony gripped her arm. She stopped, met his gaze, and listened to his steely tone. “Claire, what do you say?”

She looked at him as they stood silently for a moment, and Claire’s confused mind spun. She couldn’t fathom what he wanted. When it hit her, fire ignited in her moist eyes. She swallowed her protest and managed to articulate, “Thank you, Tony.”

Loosening his grip, he responded, “You may demonstrate your gratitude when I get upstairs.”

Claire continued to stand, afraid to move
.
Her mind was too garbled. She didn’t know what to do or say. All she could do was pray that she would never see another of those videos. As if sensing her bewilderment, Tony remained in control of her motion. “You may go to your suite now.”

It was after sunrise when Claire felt Tony get out of her bed. She listened as he picked up his clothes, and she knew he was dressing. Next, she heard him open a drawer and rifle through it. She opened her eyes, and in the dim light, saw him writing a note. When he turned to look at her, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Doing her best to keep her breathing steady, she reminded herself, he wouldn’t be back for over a week.

At that moment in time, she detested everything about Anthony Rawlings.

Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.

—Mason Cooley

NATHANIEL DIDN’T MIND
the commute between New York and New Jersey, especially when he drove the winding drive toward his home. Each time the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick came into view, he momentarily remembered the two-room apartment he’d shared with his wife. For a young soldier recently home from fighting the Japs, it was ample. Being a soldier and a veteran were the only attributes Sharron’s family saw in him. They were the only reasons they allowed their daughter to marry Nathaniel Rawls.

Today, as he stepped into the marble entry, he wished her high-and-mighty father could see his daughter now. Oh yes, Nathaniel Rawls did make something out of himself, and now, with Clawson’s ideas, there was so much more to be made. If his father-in-law were still alive he would gladly shove this up his—

“Good evening, Nathaniel.” Sharron’s greeting came from the archway to the sitting room. She had his bourbon waiting. Dinner would be precisely at 7:00 PM. Everyone knew that. Perhaps it was the military training, but punctuality was never questioned. “How was your day?”

“It’s better now.” He took the glass she handed to him and kissed his wife’s cheek. The sparkle of his wife’s eyes reflected the flames from the large fireplace. “How was your day, my love?”

Sharron chatted about the pressing concerns regarding the household staff, while Nathaniel thought about Rawls Corp. Of course, he responded and acknowledged her concerns, but his mind swirled with Clawson’s ideas. Just before 7:00 PM they heard Samuel and Amanda descending the grand stairs. They all congregated in the dining room.

He may think about work, but dinner was not the time to discuss it. Even though Nathaniel and Samuel had spent the day together debating ideas, Nathaniel and his son spent dinner talking with their wives, discussing weather, politics, sports, movies, etc…

A man’s home was his castle, and Nathaniel loved the castle his queen and family were able to enjoy.

Look deep into nature, and then you will
understand everything better.

—Albert Einstein

CLAIRE WAITED ABOUT
ten minutes after hearing the door to her suite shut. During that time, she lay still, barely breathing, and pretending to sleep. She didn’t want to face him, talk to him, or even see him
.
Though appearing peacefully asleep, her mind was a whirlwind of questions: How long until I’m sure he won’t come back? Can he see me? Is he watching? Oh God! What did he write?

Finally, her curiosity won. She got out of bed and started to walk to the table to read his note. Suddenly, the thought hit her like a physical strike. She remembered the cameras and the staff. Reaching for her robe from the floor, she secured it around her nude body. Sitting on the table where he’d left it, was his note:

I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It’s hard to say, until
we
thoroughly review the footage I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t disappoint me.

Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man: Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. Claire picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had five months earlier.

Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away—someplace she would never find them. Think of something else, she told herself. It was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday
.
She felt her muscles relax. It was Sunday, his day to be home—but he was gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.

“MS. CLAIRE? MS.
Claire, you must wake.”

Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.

“Catherine, what are you doing?”

“Ms. Claire, it’s after 1:00 PM. You need to wake and eat. You’ve already missed breakfast and now lunch. I’m worried about you.” Claire saw Catherine’s concerned expression and heard her fretful tone.

From the moment Tony left the room and Claire read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Now, opening her puffy eye lids caused pain, which added to the ache in her body, head, and heart. She’d never felt more alone and isolated than she did. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern, but I believe I’ll stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but with the words came more tears. The salt stung her already swollen eyes. Claire wanted to concentrate on Catherine, but her mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Tony and what he’d done. Not wanting Catherine to see her in this condition, Claire rolled her face into her pillow, making her words muffled. “Please leave me alone.”

Catherine didn’t leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and tenderly stroked Claire’s hair as her head moved with the sobs. Catherine remained silent and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Claire caught her breath. “Ms. Claire, you’ll feel better if you shower and eat. Please let me help you.” Catherine’s concern and affection reminded Claire of her mother or grandmother; however, she knew if one of them were present, they’d tell her to run not shower.

Claire didn’t want to eat, shower, or even get out of bed. Her only desire was to be out of
his
house. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was by car or death. She just wanted out. The feeling of helplessness sat heavily on her chest. She had tried to survive this ordeal. She had even convinced herself she could handle whatever he sent her way. This new situation was too much. He broke her. Since March, she maintained her spirit, despite the loss of her body. Yesterday, he took that too. She turned to look Catherine in the eye and asked, “How have you been able to work for
him
all this time?”

Catherine stopped stroking Claire’s hair and gently took her hand. “Mr. Rawlings is a good man, Ms. Claire. He truly is.”

Claire shook her head as the tears and sobs resumed. “No! No, he isn’t! I’ve never met a more sadistic, cruel, and bad man.” She closed her eyes, enduring the sting of her tears, the pounding in her head, and taste of her runny nose.

Catherine handed Claire a tissue. “Mr. Rawlings hides his feelings with certain behaviors. He’s afraid to face his own emotions, and he uses this dark persona as a cover. It’s not who he truly is. I’ve known him a long time.”

Claire’s words came between whimpers. “Catherine, I can’t.” “I can’t get up.” “I can’t face the staff.” “They all know.” “They’ve all seen me… seen him… I just can’t.”

“No, Ms. Claire. Only I have access to view the inside of your room.” Claire pulled her hand away and rolled from her gaze. Catherine reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. “I only use that access to know when to send the staff inside or to check on your safety.” Claire continued to face away from Catherine. “And now, I’m concerned about you. Ms. Claire, please let me help you. It’s a beautiful day outside.” Claire didn’t move. “Would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t want lunch. Thank you for your concern, but I’m too… too…” She turned to face Catherine. “…I don’t know what I am!” Her voice trailed away. “I don’t even know
who
I am, anymore.”

“Ms. Claire, you’re a beautiful, strong woman. That’s what Mr. Rawlings finds so attractive. He’s astounded by your strength and resilience.”

“That isn’t true! He hates strength in anyone but himself. He has to have total control.” Claire replayed scenes from the past that caused her body to shudder.

“Miss, you’re partially right. Mr. Rawlings doesn’t want to let anyone else have power over him. Therefore,
if
he admits he has feelings toward you, he gives up control, and if I may, that scares him.”

Claire really didn’t think that anything scared Anthony Rawlings. “I don’t want his feelings. I want out! I want to go to Atlanta and forget I was ever here.” Her voice steadied. “I promise, I won’t tell any of his secrets. I just want to go home.” Tears flowed with increased intensity. Her next question was barely audible. “Do you think he’ll ever let me go?”

Catherine looked into her eyes. “Mr. Rawlings is a man of his word. If he said he’ll release you when your debt is paid, then he will.” The obvious question was when would that be? “Now after you shower, would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”