Behind His Eyes - Consequences (4 page)

“I’ve recently arrived from a series of meetings in Europe and am quite tired. I’m glad to know we have a mutual understanding. Goodnight, Claire.”

As he shut her door, he heard her say goodnight.

Walking toward his office, he thought about the bourbon he’d left sitting on his desk—there were about fifty emails that needed reading and probably responses to be written—and he had at least two web conferences tomorrow. He’d need to check to see if Patricia had sent him his schedule.

Oh, yes, and apparently his
acquisition
was adapting to her new reality—that was good. Anthony Rawlings had too many things to think about other than to be concerned with the woman upstairs. Hell, Catherine had been spot-on with the isolation. Perhaps he should allow her to deal with the day-to-day maintenance; he’d utilize Claire when it fit his schedule. Besides, a little alone time seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

Damn, in a week and a half the proposal from Arkansas was coming in. Did he have that preliminary report?
There were too many other things to think about besides Claire Nichols; however, it was comforting to know she’d adapted. Tomorrow, Anthony decided he’d take that theory to the next level.
Would her actions be as accommodating as her words?

The morning light had yet to penetrate the heavy drapes of his suite when Anthony turned toward the red numbers. It was only 4:42 AM, yet he was wide awake. The woman—about whom, he reminded himself, he didn’t give a damn—was inside his house. She was undoubtedly sleeping soundly under
his
roof.
How many nights had he imagined what it would be like to have her where he could watch her, train her, and control her?
Now she was here and he was a floor away. If he went upstairs and took what his body obviously wanted, what difference would it make? This wasn’t a normal dating scenario. Claire wasn’t going to go to the press and proclaim his actions. She wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, this wasn’t about sex, although he was painfully erect. It was about power. Everything about her existence was his to determine. If he wanted her to sleep, she would sleep. If he wanted to use her, he would use her.

Though the thought of entering her suite—no, not
her
suite, the
S.E
. suite—and asserting his dominance while assessing her reaction appealed to him, Anthony reconsidered: the more accommodating he made her, the better. He didn’t relish the idea of continued daily battles. Yes, he liked things his way; however, his energies could be better utilized if she were more compliant.

Catherine was right. Showing up to the office with scratches on his face or arms would instigate questions. Making his way out of bed, Anthony walked to his bureau, opened the top drawer, and found what he’d purchased in Europe. Running the long lengths of black satin across his palm, his mind considered the possibilities of their use. It wasn’t that he was into the kinky shit; this was more about self-preservation. He could even consider it a favor. Claire’s fighting hadn’t worked well for her in the past, and he wouldn’t allow it in the future. With the use of satin restraints, he would assure that when he exited the S.E. suite, he’d be scathe-free, and with her cooperation, albeit forced, Claire would be able to boast the same.

In his mind, he was giving her a choice. She would accommodate him; how much independence she had while doing that would be up to her.

A little after 7:00 AM, Anthony scaled the grand staircase. He hadn’t acted upon his earlier thoughts of Claire; instead, he’d gone to the pool, swam laps, and lifted weights for an hour. After a shower and breakfast, he decided to spend some time preparing for his web conferences. As he read, each sentence disappeared into the memories of the innocent emerald-green gaze from last night, the one that asked,
I’m sorry … but may I leave this suite?

He wasn’t concerned about fulfilling her desires. It was basic psychology: operant conditioning—positive consequences for positive behavior, negative consequences for negative behavior. Her respectful tone, her demeanor, and her appearance—they all deserved a positive consequence.
After all, wasn’t that what he wanted to do—to promote the positive and rebuke the negative?

He also remembered telling her to be ready in the morning.
Would she be? Did she truly deserve a positive consequence?

The
beep
sounded as he moved silently into the S.E suite. Scanning the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. His first thought was the bathroom, but the door was ajar and no one was there. Before he could look further, he heard movement from the closet/dressing room. Staring in that direction, he waited for her to emerge. When she did, the startled
yelp,
accompanied by the dropping of her shoes, made his cheeks rise. “Good morning, Claire.” She was ready—
another reason for a positive consequence
.

“Good morning, Anthony; I didn’t hear you come in.”

Amused, he watched as she picked up her shoes and feigned calmness. It was then he noticed her uneaten breakfast on the table. “Are you ready for your tour? Did you plan to eat first? I have a web conference in forty-five minutes.”

She asked him about a web conference. As he answered, he had difficulty suppressing his amusement at her behavior. It was as if carrying on a mundane conversation with the man who held her future in his hands was an everyday occurrence. Snickering to himself, he reasoned,
it will be from now on
. Maybe she was working from her years as a bartender. Whatever the cause, her ability to converse effortlessly was a welcome surprise. Before long, Anthony found himself leading her down corridors and describing the estate. As he discussed pieces of furniture and fine works of art, he knew that there was no way Claire could know the items he pointed out were originally owned by his grandfather. She didn’t know that it had taken Anthony years to track down significant pieces of his history, after they’d been auctioned off to undeserving bidders. She also couldn’t know how the mention of each item fortified his resolve for restitution; instead, Claire walked beside him, blissfully unaware. A saying about a spider and a fly came to mind.

They were in the library when she asked something about computers. He didn’t know if she were joking about the size of the library and the magnitude of books, yet her comment hit him wrong. Suddenly, Anthony felt the need to remind her of her status. She may be receiving a tour that few others had experienced, but she wasn’t a guest, and he wanted to make that clear. “I think it would be best for you to not have access to computers, the Internet, or telephones.” Oh, he wanted a verbal response; however, the unspoken acknowledgement of his authority that flooded her eyes momentarily satisfied that need. He silently vowed that they would discuss the need for verbal responses in the future.

She didn’t speak again until they entered the indoor pool. Anthony never gave the room much thought—it was a pool. There were windows, tile, and water. Yet as they entered, Claire gasped. He responded before he had a chance to think. “Do you like to swim?”

“Oh, yes. This is amazing.”

“You shall have bathing suits tomorrow.” As soon as the words left his lips, Anthony wondered why he’d been so forthcoming. She hadn’t asked and that was his rule—requests must be made before they can be granted; nevertheless, he’d approved an unspoken request. He would follow through, because he was a man of his word, but he didn’t intend to offer more. The tour
and
bathing suits—her positive rewards were outnumbering her behaviors.

At the entrance to his office, Anthony realized the time and proclaimed, “I have business I must do. It’s 7:25 AM. I want you back at my office at 10:30 AM. You have some debt to pay.” He watched for her reaction. It wasn’t overt, but her eyes momentarily drifted toward the wall. To her credit she recovered quickly. He asked, “Do you think you can find your way back to your suite?”

It was then that she did it again. Her voice softened as she asked permission to go to the library.
As long as she stayed in the library and returned to his office at 10:30 AM, what harm was there in allowing her request?
Besides, it was a
request
—well worded. While reiterating the importance of her returning at the appropriate time, he apprehensively acquiesced; however, before he dismissed her, he reminded her of his control. “We have not discussed all of the rules pertaining to the house. At this point, do not go outside. Permission for going out on the grounds will be contingent upon your ability to follow rules within the house.”

Anthony liked how she bristled at the mention of her restrictions. Yes, he had thousands of jobs and people’s livelihoods in his hands, but never had he had one person’s life completely in his grasp. He had to admit, the power was intense and even erotic.

Anthony watched the clock as the web conference dragged on. When he finally disconnected, he looked at the time. Claire was due in his office in six minutes. Anthony clicked a few times with his mouse and entered a code. His screen filled with a view of the library. It didn’t take long to find Claire wandering about, pulling out books, and reading the backs. He waited and watched as she opened a book and leaned against a bookcase. The numbers on the clock changed.
Didn’t she realize the size of his house?
There was no possible way, unless she ran, that she would make it to his office in time.
Did she think he was joking about returning on time?
She didn’t even have the good sense to turn toward the library clock.

At 10:37 AM he entered the library. This time, Anthony found no humor in the fact he’d again startled her. She was stupid to even think that she could blatantly disobey him. He’d provided positive consequences—obviously it wasn’t enough to mold the appropriate behavior. When her eyes met his, he saw the remorse.

“Oh, Anthony, I’m so sorry. I was just engrossed in all you have—”

Excuses! He didn’t make them and he didn’t listen to them.
His hand struck her cheek. Before she could look away, Anthony seized the back of her neck and pulled her eyes toward his. “Simple instructions, which are what I gave you—perhaps you’re not ready to leave your suite quite yet.”

He heard her plea—telling him that she
could
follow instructions. Her words didn’t match her actions, and he didn’t have the time or the patience for coddling.

“Follow me to my office—now.” Not waiting for her to respond, he took off through the library and down the corridor. With each step he contemplated his next move, reminding himself that this was a critical time in Claire’s training.
If he didn’t demonstrate his dominance now, he couldn’t guarantee her compliance later. Didn’t she understand that this was for her own good? This arrangement would never last if she didn’t cooperate, and then what would his options be? She needed to recognize his authority!

By the time they reached the grand doors to his office, red infiltrated his vision. It wasn’t intense, but the world had a crimson hue. Catherine had told him that he was wrong to take Claire. Nathaniel’s plan had been clear, yet there was something about Claire that fascinated him. He wouldn’t fail and prove Catherine right. He
would
make Claire behave appropriately—this
would
work.

Shoving her inside his office, Anthony reeled in the red and spoke in his most even tone. “So, you say you
can
follow instructions. We’ll see.” He watched as she stood before him trembling. He wondered how she could be trembling—his anger warmed him to an uncomfortable heat. Then he realized, it wasn’t cold: it was fear. That was good. Fear was an excellent motivator. He continued, “Let’s start with you taking off your clothes.”

Though her hands shook as she unfastened the clasps, she didn’t argue. Whenever she looked away, he reached for her chin and redirected her eyes. There was so much he could see in her eyes; he refused to allow her to hide that emotion. After he redirected her the second time, she maintained eye contact. Once she was nude, he assessed. There was nothing wrong with her body. She’d even seemed to have lost some weight since she first arrived. Her earlier markings were gone, and her skin tone was lighter—probably due to staying inside. After all, she wasn’t in the warm Georgia sun any longer.

“Lie down on the floor,” he directed.

She didn’t speak, yet he saw her indecision. Anthony Rawlings wouldn’t make the same request twice. Just as he was about to assist, Claire knelt on the carpet.

“Lie on your stomach and keep your face and eyes down.”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or if time was indeed moving slowly; nevertheless, each of her movements seemed to occur painfully slow.
At least they were occurring
. Despite the fact that she was still trembling, she eventually lay down, totally nude, and prone on the carpet.

Anthony had had his fair share of experiences in life; however, this was once again entering the world of new and untested territory. He’d accepted the responsibility to train this woman, to make her into a compliant soul. Catherine said it couldn’t be done. She said that women today were too independent. Watching Claire lie as still as possible, Anthony almost laughed—
independent indeed
. Claire Nichols would learn to behave.