Truth (30 page)

“
No, Tony. Why did you do
it to me? Why’d you set me up, worse -- arrange my entire life to
look as though I was after your money, setting you up for the kill?
You know I continually told you, I didn’t care about the money. But
everything from the beginning was manipulated to make me look
guilty. Now you say you loved me. You don’t do
that
to someone you love. Tell me
why you did it.”

“
It isn’t past tense,
Claire. I still love you. And I thought you knew why.”

“
I want to hear it from
you.”

“
What was in the box, you
said you received? What information did you think I
revealed?”

She didn’t have time to
filter her answers, the words came tumbling out. “There were
pictures, articles, and a letter. It all explained that your birth
name was Anton Rawls, you changed it after the death of your
grandfather and parents.” As the words flowed, she realized the
thing she’d been missing. She didn’t say grandparents and parents.
What happened to Tony’s grandmother? Could she still be alive? She
would be very old. Maybe, she sent Claire the information? Or
maybe, she was behind this vendetta. Would it lessen the sting if
Claire learned it wasn’t
all
Tony’s doing?

“
Was it handwritten? Where
is it? I’d like to see it.”

“
Yes, the note was
handwritten. I thought it looked like your writing. It wasn’t
signed, but you never signed anything.” It was Claire’s turn to
look down. “You can’t see it,” She exhaled, “I burned
it.”

She heard him laugh, “You what?”

Looking up, squaring her shoulders, she
repeated, “I burned it, all of it. I took it to the incinerator at
the prison and watched it burn.”

He stared for a moment and exclaimed, “You
are serious. You have no proof of anything you just said? You
burned it.” His shoulders relaxed. The tension that glued his
muscles together, dissipated before her eyes. He continued, “I
don’t know who sent it to you. I did confirm, today, that you
received a box in October of last year. The prison said the return
address was Emily’s.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, I assumed it was books
or something.”

He exhaled again, “Burned it. Why?”

“
I’ve asked myself that
same question a thousand times. I believe it was a cleansing of
sorts, my way of removing you from my life.”

Tony smirked, “How is that working for
you?”

The tension in the room
disintegrated, like the ashes of her information. She couldn’t help
but grin. “Not as well as I’d hoped.” Claire glanced at a clock,
11:16. “I really do need to get ready for my lunch
date
.” There was no
reason to emphasize the last word, but she did. “If we’re done, I’d
like you to leave.” Her voice no longer held the urgency from
before. While the ability to direct
his
movements empowered her, the
memory of destroying the evidence subdued her.

“
I would like to ask you
one more thing?” She nodded; her strength to fight him was waning.
“Who was the expected recipient of that dazzling smile?”

Claire’s mind spun.
What smile?
“What are
you talking about?”

“
When you first opened the
door, your smile was earth shaking. Who were you
expecting?”

“
A good
friend.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, but Claire didn’t
respond. She didn’t have to. She’d answered his question, the first
time he asked. She didn’t owe him anymore. Truthfully, she no
longer owed him that.

Claire stood, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll
show you to the door.”

Tony stood, “I will not give-up my quest.”
Though his tone was friendly, his words were both a promise and a
threat; they both knew it.

The living room and hall continued to
stretch making the walk to the door endless. Finally they reached
her destination.

“
Please give Catherine my
love.” As she reached for the door handle she continued,
“
If
you have
truly changed, as you claim, you will respect my decisions.
If
that is the case, you
are wasting your time.”

“
I have invested much
more.” He paused, “One last thing,” his words slowed, “do not share
your unsupported theories -- with anyone.”

Claire straightened her neck, once again
facing off with her ex. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that.”

He reached for her hand. Her thoughts were
forming too slowly to react with enough speed, to save it from his
clutches. He lowered his lips to soft skin as his fingertips
brushed her palm beneath. Waves of warmth radiated throughout her
body. Before releasing her captured appendage, he warned, “Be
careful. You don’t want to disappoint me.” He dropped her hand as
his dark brown eyes peered into the depths of her soul.

She maintained eye contact, “That – is no
longer my concern. Good-bye, Tony.”

He nodded, turned and strode toward the
elevator. She watched his tall, elegant body disappear down the
hallway.

It took her a minute;
finally, she shut the door and collapsed with her back against the
hard wooden surface. Her
Emily
phone
fell from her camisole. The sound of
shattering, refocused her thoughts. The small black devise lay
helpless on the shiny marble floor. Dropping to her knees, she
retrieved the phone. Opening its cover, the screen was black. Not
registering the implication, she remembered Tony’s eyes.
When he left, were they black, or had he kept
them under control? Could he really change? Could she ever forgive
him?

She tried to focus. The phone would not turn
on.

Closing her eyes and absorbing the coolness
of the marble floor, she fought to think. Each thought was epic and
yet minuscule. She needed to get another phone. She also needed to
call Harry. It was too late for lunch; she was too drained. Maybe
she should nap, and later she’d face life’s decisions.

Dragging herself to the
living room, she found her iPhone, so heavy. She managed to
complete her unfinished text to Harry. Focusing, she read what
she’d started an hour before: it talked about missing him at
breakfast and being sorry for her behavior the night before. She
just hadn’t pushed
send
before Tony arrived. She added:
WOULD YOU JOIN ME FOR DINNER?
And hit
send
.

Her bed seemed too far
away. Yawning, Claire noticed the soft inviting sofa. Nestling onto
the indulgent, cool leather she reached for a throw pillow and
inhaled
his
scent. The brief exhilaration morphed to disappointment,
questioning her future. Would Tony ever let her go?
What exactly did he mean by his comment
not giving up his quest
?

Waking at two in the morning was not a good
idea. Sudden exhaustion engulfed her. Claire was so tired. The
large glass windows filled the room with sunshine. She glanced
toward the mountains in the distance, appreciating their beauty, as
their purple haze filled her vision with color. Dreamily, she
observed the sky above. The amazing clarity reminded her of a
Midwestern sky, crystal blue with light fluffy wisps of clouds. She
wondered when the high pressure system had settled in, very unusual
for Palo Alto this time of year. She knew that from meteorology,
not experience. After all, she’d only lived on the west coast over
a month. So much had changed in such a short time.

Normally, on a beautiful day like this,
she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise,
and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might
not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about
Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the
cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to
focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was
confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if
anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there.
Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with
any perpetrator -- except his employer.

That was apparent with Phil’s departure from
the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question
Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her
attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into
the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until
her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the
tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and
color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could
wait; she needed a little nap.

Claire tried to wake, but was that possible
from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back.
Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let
her sleep?

It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a
fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”

The directive was not
demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled
her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he
manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of
persuasion, a kiss -- his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious
reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony
didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her
obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more
bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony
lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams,
can’t it? There’s even a line in a song:
in dreams our feet never touch the ground
. Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.

She’d watched him walk away and locked the
door. Didn’t she?

Convincing herself this was only fantasy,
Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his
powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium.
Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the
dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her
eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.

Somehow she was on her bed. When she woke at
two in the morning, she didn’t straighten the bed clothes. The
exposed, soft sheets were cool against her skin. Gently, the clip
was freed from her hair, allowing her auburn trusses to fall in
waves onto her soft pillow. Piece by piece her clothing
disappeared. She obeyed the simple commands, “Lift your arms over
your head.” Her oversized t-shirt was eased over her head, then the
camisole. Claire moaned as the cool air caused her nipples to
harden. Her physical reaction did not go unnoticed. His now gentle
fingers lightly caressed the hard nubs. Closing her eyes, with her
arms above her head, she arched her back, surrendering her
vulnerable breasts. She ached for more.

Next, her yoga pants were
eased past her ankles, exposing her black lacy panties. The barely
visible material was but a scant hurdle on the road to their
destination. Nevertheless, a streak of panic ran through her, like
ice on overheated skin. Goose bumps formed on her arms and legs.
The sudden alarm intensified everything, from the sound of their
breathing to the touch of his hands. The small lace barrier was
another direct violation of
his
rules. She watched his expression as his fingers
traced the delicate trim. In the center, inches below her
bellybutton was a small, black, satin bow. His strong hands
encircled her hips as his thumbs teased the tiny adornment. She was
a present – a gift, wrapped only for him. He didn’t speak, but his
chest rose and fell, as his breathing deepened. She sighed with
relief, when the tips of his lips turned upward into his handsome,
devilish smile.

The panties were gone.

“
This isn’t real. This is
a dream.” She wasn’t sure if the words were in her head or if she’d
spoken them aloud.

They must have been said aloud, because Tony
responded. “Do you want it to be a dream?”

She shook her head,
no
.

No, she didn’t want it to be a dream? Or no,
she didn’t want it to be real? She didn’t know. “It isn’t real.”
Claire repeated, a little less confident of her words or her
ability to speak.

It felt real. The fragrance of his cologne
filled her room, as only she filled his sight. It was that
all-encompassing gaze, the one that removed everyone and everything
from the world, leaving only them. The heat radiating from his
amazing body was overwhelming; she wondered if it could burn her.
Yet, she wasn’t concerned. This wasn’t the man who hurt her. The
man in her dream was the one she loved and loved her. Her mind
searched for reason. He’d proclaimed that love again, in the living
room. Now her subconscious wanted to fulfill its desires. She
submitted to the dream. Fighting would take too much energy. Even
her unconscious knew her energy would be better utilized in other
ways.

His clothes were also gone. When had he
taken them off? Time can be so elusive in dreams...

He was talking; asking questions and voicing
appreciation of everything before him. Nevertheless, his words
didn’t register, only the rhythm of his deep sensual tone. That
cadence, along with the strong beating of his heart, within his
massive, heat-radiating chest, calmed and excited her. Claire
listened and nodded, even though she was unsure of what she
authorized.