Consequences (33 page)

Tony decided they should go on a drive. Claire hadn’t left the property or even the immediate house since early September. The idea of getting into the car caused an explosive and unexpected trauma. That morning she obediently dressed in the clothes that were laid out for her, which happened every day since she was well enough to dress. The sun shone and the temperature felt unseasonably warm. She anticipated going outside, but when Tony announced that he had the Lexus out front, Claire panicked. Her reaction was quick and unpredicted. She started to cry and shake. She didn’t want to go.

For the first time since the
accident
Tony pushed. He didn’t ask, he declared they were going for a drive. It was the best thing he could do. She needed to get out, but Claire couldn’t think straight. She sat down on the front steps and refused to get up. Finally, Tony reached for her arm. She reacted more violently than she had since her arrival. Her entire body filled with anguish. Trembling, she started to scream, “I remember everything! I know the truth!
Please
do not touch me!” Her body shook. “I hate you! Leave me alone!” He looked at her with disbelief. She looked at him with vengeance.

Her screaming caused Catherine and Cindy to come running. By the time they arrived, Claire’s words were unintelligible, overlapped by sobs and whimpers. She sat on the steps, shaking and holding her knees. Eventually her sobs subsided into freely flowing tears. She didn’t speak as Catherine gently helped her to her feet and calmly walked her to the car.

They began the drive in silence. Tony didn’t do or say anything. He drove and let Claire cry. It had been two months since her
accident
. She hadn’t cried or said a word, and suddenly it all erupted.

Dr. Leonard had given his clearance. Tony had been patient. Claire knew what he wanted from her and she was petrified to be with him again. He drove them to a meadow. She’d never been there before or even seen it. It was very secluded. Claire’s crying subsided. Tony tenderly helped her out of the car, and while holding her hand he finally offered his apology. “Claire, I am sorry.”

She looked up at his eyes, they glistened light brown. “You are sorry? What are you sorry for?”

His tone was remorseful and sincere. “I am sorry for your accident.” She didn’t respond and looked away from his eyes. He continued, “Yes, I admit that what happened the night of your accident was me. I admit I lost control, something that doesn’t usually happen. I admit I feel terrible, and Catherine has made me feel worse. I admit I was beyond furious with you and the article by Meredith Banks. I wasn’t thinking straight.” His eyes were getting darker. “I trusted you. I believed that you wouldn’t betray my confidence and then . . . and I would do anything to have that night to do over.”

They stood by the car, no longer touching. The breeze gently rustled the tall grass, blew wisps of hair around her face, and filled her lungs with the smell of impending winter. Claire watched his expression as he spoke. It had been so long since she’d felt anything. Suddenly, she fought the rapid mixture of emotions that stirred inside of her.

Tony watched as her eyes, which had been dull and dead, contained a small spark. “Tony, I remember. I remember what you were doing and saying. I remember you saying I would need to be alone for a while to think about who to talk to and who not to talk to.” Tony nodded his head. He’d said that. Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears and her chest swelled with fear, but she had to know. “Is that still coming?”

He reached out to grab her shoulders. He intended to be gentle, but Claire backed away, tripped, and fell onto the ground. His eyes said gentle but she remembered fury. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Not feeling was so much easier. Confusion, apprehension, anger, and dread all showed in her eyes. He followed her to the ground. “Claire, please stop.” He knelt beside her. “No, that isn’t coming. I don’t think you need any more reminders on how to behave, do you?” She said no, she didn’t. “Claire, may I please touch you?”

She started to tremble again. Sobs resonated from her chest. His voice still gentle but firm. “You know I don’t need your permission to touch you. I don’t need your permission to do anything.” Claire’s eyes closed. She tried to swallow her sobs. She nodded her head yes. She knew too well her permission was not necessary. “But I would like to have it. Please, may I have your consent?”

She braced herself and opened her eyes. She looked at him and his brown eyes. She closed her eyes again and said, “Okay.”

He scooted next to her, sitting on the cold hard ground, and softly placed his arm around her back. He could feel her tension. He gently bent down and tenderly kissed her lips, very lightly brushing his lips against hers. She didn’t back away. He could smell her hair blowing in the breeze. It reminded him of flowers. “Have I told you how much I like the highlights in your hair?” She shook her head no. He lightly stroked her hair. “I think you are amazing. You are so strong and resilient. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I did, but you deserve to hear me ask for it.” She didn’t want to look at him. Her emotions were too raw. She wanted to forgive him.

He didn’t touch her, instead he moved himself in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Claire, I am sorry I hurt you.” She felt the tears as she tried to maintain eye contact. He gently took her hands. “I ask that one day you will consider forgiving me.” He kissed her hands.

When she looked into his eyes she saw sadness and remorse. The swirl of emotions that had so violently erupted at the estate now settled into her chest. She wanted the sadness to go away. He’d been so patient. He was being so tender. She didn’t forgive him, but she began to respond to his advances. It started with kissing, he kissed her and she began to kiss him. Then she felt her hands as they caressed his arms and shoulders. Tony bulged with excitement, yet he didn’t rush or push. He stayed compassionate and tender.

“Tony, I’m scared.”

“I promise I will be gentle.” For some reason, she believed him.

“Can we please go home to a nice soft bed?” He quietly stood and helped Claire to her feet. She took his offered hand. They walked back to the car, this time she got in willingly.

When they pulled up to the house, Claire leaned over. “I really want this. But please be gentle.” He parked the car, walked around to her door, and helped her out of the car. They walked up the front steps hand in hand, where hours before she’d been hysterical. When he opened the door he scooped Claire into his arms, and instead of going up to her suite, carried her to his room. While he held her, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck. The aroma of his skin and cologne intoxicated her.

She had never, in all the time she’d been there, been in his bedroom. It was grand, almost royal. The walls were covered with cherry paneling and ornate carpentry. One wall was covered with a large screen framed like a picture, like the one in his office. His bed was massive, tall and larger than a normal king-sized. There were steps to reach the height of the mattress.

He gently placed her on his bed. She watched as he slowly removed her shoes. Then he unbuttoned and tenderly removed her jacket, her blouse, and her jeans. He removed his own clothes while she observed his every move. He was gorgeous, and his moves were slow and sensual. He softly kissed her, causing her to lie back. She looked up at the beautiful ornate ceiling. She felt his lips move down her body. They lingered at her neck, at her breast, stopping to lick and suckle her nipple. Claire’s back arched, and she pressed her breasts toward Tony. He continued to touch her warm body, taste her skin, and inhale her scent.

She hadn’t realized it before that moment, but after experiencing orgasms routinely the void of the past two months had left her wanting. Her body was now alive, on full alert, and every nerve was electrified. He fondled her breasts and gently twisted her nipples. She moaned in ecstasy. He stopped. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”

She pleaded, “No, god no. Please don’t stop.”

He allowed his lips to move from her breasts to her flat stomach and over her protruding hipbones. He tenderly spread her legs and kissed her inner thighs. She feared she would explode before he ever reached his destination. Next his tongue affectionately awakened her desires. He satisfied every need she’d ever had and ones she’d forgotten. He moved slowly and deliberately, sensual and romantic, compassionate and loving.

He had been patient and remorseful. Now it was his turn to experience a favorable consequence. His pleasure came by pleasing her. His actions took everything away. And now his actions brought everything back and more.

Nothing
is
more
common
on
earth
than
to
deceive
and
be
deceived.

—Johann G. Seume

 Chapter 22

The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts. Samuel Rawls and Jared Clawson sat, while Nathaniel Rawls paced. The large polished conference table was barely visible beneath the magnitude of papers. The players no longer worked from the New Jersey office above the textile factory as they did five years ago. Instead, the view from the conference table or large mahogany desk is now that of Cedar Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district.

“Rawls stock is up another five-eighths after heavy trading. The rumors that circulated today about the quarterly report helped with that increase,” Clawson said as he leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, adjusting his suit jacket.

Nathaniel’s track around the large office included peering out toward the NYSE and circling the desk to see the large computer screens that relayed the most up-to-date stock information. Exhaling a large gray cloud, he asked the question that sat heavily on his and Samuel’s minds, “But what happens when it is discovered that the rumors and reality are different?”

“Shit hits the fan.” Clawson smiled. “So we don’t tell anyone.”

Samuel rubbed his throbbing head. “What do you mean we don’t tell anyone? The quarterly earnings report will be released tomorrow. The investors will find out that our capital is down. That last string of investments wiped out millions.”

“Numbers are funny things. I have a copy here of an alternative report. The numbers are all legitimate, but the information is written with a more positive slant.” Clawson distributed the report. The room filled with uncomfortable silence as the two Rawls men read the new report.

“Where is the original report?” Nathaniel bellowed. Immediately, Clawson pulled the requested pages from the cluttered table. The elder Rawls took the two reports and sat heavily at his desk. Page by page he compared the figures. Samuel and Clawson watched as the tips of Nathaniel’s lips moved from south to north. The telephone rang, breaking the silence. Instead of answering, Nathaniel hit the button on the intercom. “Connie, I said
no
calls!”

The voice from the box spoke apologetically, “I’m sorry, Mr. Rawls. It’s your personal line. I’ll take care of it.” Immediately, the ringing stopped.

The sight of Nathaniel’s smile had differing effects. Clawson resumed his leaned back position and lit another cigarette. Samuel leaned forward and held his head in his hands. Confronting his father in front of Clawson wasn’t a good idea, but it had to be done. This whole damn thing was getting out of hand.

It
is
difficult
to
know
at
what
moment
love
begins;
it
is
less
difficult
to
know
it
has
begun.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 Chapter 23

His head rested on his arm as he listened to her breathing and watched her sleep. The discussion in his head had raged for hours. Sensing her warmth, inhaling her scent, and wanting to taste her lips . . . the voice of love was prevailing.

Claire floated in that place before consciousness, having difficulty distinguishing reality from fantasy, unsure what she was feeling. The epiphany came in the realization she was . . . feeling. It had been so long since she felt anything. She was feeling warm, good, safe. Her mind tried to convince her it was a dream, but she remembered feeling that way before she fell asleep. She questioned herself,
Is
this
real?
Her soft skin rolled on the silky sheets, felt radiating warmth. Hesitantly, she slowly opened her eyes. Right in front of her, close enough to touch, was Tony’s firm broad chest. Again, the questions.
Is
he
really
here?
He usually left her bed before she woke.
Why
is
he
still
here?
Now as Claire rolled onto her back and saw the beautiful ornate ceiling she wondered,
Where
is
here?
This
isn’t
my
room.