Behind His Eyes - Truth (16 page)

“WE HAVE LEFT THE GALA. ALLOW SOPHIA TO RETURN.”

Claire broke the silence as they exited the elevator to the penthouse. “May I have my phone?”

Tony looked at his watch, 10:17 PM. “My dear, the night is still young.” When she didn’t respond, Tony removed her cell phone from his breast pocket. It never occurred to him that she might take the phone and walk away; he’d always listened to her calls. Once she turned it on, the small device vibrated with an onslaught of messages. No doubt the world outside their bubble had seen the news release. Instead of checking her messages, Claire called for the SiJo car. He faintly heard the driver through her phone.

“Hello, Marcus, yes, this is Claire Nichols—”

Tony changed his mind. He wasn’t ready for the evening to be over. Taking her phone from her hand, he stilled her words and interrupted her conversation. “Hello, Marcus. Ms. Nichols will not need your assistance this evening.”

“Umm, excuse me. Who is this?” Marcus replied.

“This is Anthony Rawlings.”

“Oh, okay? Oh! Mr. Rawlings.”

“That is correct.”

“So, Ms. Nichols is done with the car for tonight?”

“Yes, you are relieved of your assignment.”

“Okay. I’ll head back to Palo Alto.”

“Thank you, good-night.” Glancing at the number of messages on her screen, Tony once again turned off her phone and returned it to his pocket.

He watched as Claire walked to a sofa and sat. Momentarily, defeat hung around her like a cloud. Tears coated her cheeks as her emerald eyes met his. Tony didn’t want this. He didn’t want to see her defeated. It was that the evening had been remarkable. Having her next to him, even the clandestine retorts—all of it was invigorating.

Then it happened, right before his eyes. Claire shifted, sat taller, and asked, “What do I need to do to
leave
?”

Relieved by her forwardness, he sat beside her and softened his voice, “Eric will take you home whenever you want. You may leave at any time.”

“Then I want to leave now.”

Of course she did.
Why would she not?
He was a
heartless bastard
in her eyes. If only he could make her see that she was right—before, but not now. Now, he knew that his heart beat for one reason. It had stopped when she left him—literally. The reason it restarted was sitting beside him. Solemnly, he nodded and removed his phone. He’d call Eric and send her on her way.

Her soft tone stilled his movements. “Tony?” her voice quivered with concern. “Is SiJo secure? Did they get their problem fixed?”

He placed his phone back in his pocket and ignoring her question, asked his own, “Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about all night?” He’d been honest in San Diego. Catherine’s box was about disclosure. Surprisingly, there was a strange sense of relief that came with each admission; Tony yearned to tell Claire more. Never could he remember having the desire to share such intimate thoughts with anyone.

She shook her head. “What you’ve been thinking about? All right, tell me.”

“Many things. The first—how amazing you’ve been.” Excitement infiltrated his words. “I’ve endured many companions since our divorce, but I haven’t enjoyed any of those evenings as much as I have tonight, being with you. Shelly wasn’t happy with my desired press release, but I decided it was the only answer. Now the world knows of our reconciliation. It’s official.”

“You say that as if it’s beyond debate.”

His brows furrowed. “Beyond challenge—it’s public.”

“SiJo?” she asked.

“The breach has been resolved. It
has been
since about 8:00 PM this evening.”

Claire sighed. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her relief. Perhaps he should leave this night here. She was happy. “Actually,” he said, “I’ll have Eric take you to your condominium. It’s probably better if you don’t know what else I’ve been pondering.”

“Thank you again. I’m ready to leave.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. This was better.

Then, without warning, she took his hand and asked, “What else have you been thinking?”

Her pools of emerald concern washed away his doubt. He’d be honest. “Those black lacy panties.”

Claire stood abruptly. “What did you say?”

His cheeks rose. “I’ve been thinking about your black lace underwear; there was a small bow.” His smile turned sensual. “I’ve been wondering what color you’re wearing tonight.”

Her voice resonated an octave higher. “How do you know about black lace panties?”

Tony stood, grasped her shoulders, colliding their chests as his breath quickened. “Why can’t you believe that I still love you?”

“Really? You want me to believe you still
love
me? After an entire night of blackmailing me into being your companion, threatening my friend’s company with disaster, and now learning that you… that you…” Her body trembled, tears once again flowed, and her voice broke, becoming a mere whisper. “…raped me.”

The floor was once again falling. “No, Claire.” Pleading laced his command. “Don’t even suggest that.” Lifting her chin, he searched her eyes. She’d talked about a dream, but she knew it was real as well as he did. “You agreed to everything. You more than consented: you wanted it as much as I did.” When he released her chin, she didn’t pull away; instead, her cheek settled against his chest as she wobbled in his arms. Tony kissed the top of her head and scooped her up into his arms.

“No, Tony, not tonight.”

“I’m putting you on the sofa. You’re about to fall.”

She nodded against the silk of his shirt. Together, they sat on a large white sofa, facing the tall windows. Claire removed her high heels and curled her legs onto the plush cushions. With his arm around her shoulder she fit perfectly against his side. The scent of her perfume wafted through the silent air. The scene of the Golden Gate Bridge through the windows was stunning. Tony’s mind replayed vistas they’d shared: the beaches of Fiji, the mountains of Tahoe, and even the view from her suite in Iowa.
How many hours had they spent silently enjoying the beauty that he never noticed without her?

Tony wanted this to go on forever, to forget their past and the vendetta. He wanted to keep her exactly like this.
Didn’t Anthony Rawlings usually get what he wanted?
But he knew that it would never be right if it were forced. With a deep sigh, Tony broke the spell. “Are you ready for me to call Eric?”

Her response surprised him. “What I really want are answers.”

“What kind of answers?”

“Truthful ones.” Again, she used his words and repeated demands he’d made of her. When he didn’t respond, Claire pushed on, “You say you still love me. You’re a very intelligent man. Surely, you understand actions speak louder than words.”

He turned to her with surprise. “You said no.”

“I don’t mean sex. I mean actions, like tricking me tonight, and setting me up for your attempted murder.”

He exhaled. The past wouldn’t go away.

Claire continued, “Tell me why.”

“I told you. It was a loophole.”

Her head shook against his shoulder. “I don’t understand your puzzles.”

“You, too, are very intelligent. I don’t believe you’ve spent the past year and a half without suspicions.”

“I truly didn’t understand,” Claire replied. “Until I received that box of information.”

“And what did you conclude from that?”

As she contemplated her answer, her fingers mindlessly played with the small buttons down the center of his silk shirt. The familiarity filled him with a new sense of hope. Finally, she spoke, “Well, it’s hard to answer. You see, I thought
you’d
sent it, so I thought you were adding insult to injury, you know, rubbing salt in my wounds.”

Damn Catherine! That was the exact opposite of what she’d said. Tony pushed aside his anger and concentrated on Claire. Seeing the delivery from her perspective caused his chest to ache. “You thought I’d do that?”

“What else could I think? You set me up and left me.”

The hope that moments earlier filled the penthouse evaporated; nevertheless, he tried again to help her understand. “There are few people in this world whom I’ve cared about. Few people whose opinion of me I value.” He cupped her chin and looked into her glistening emerald eyes. “I know you have reason to doubt me—hell,
reasons—
but, Claire, you are one of those people.” She closed her eyes, and he continued speaking, “I need you to understand that I made promises, and I keep my word.”

“You made
me
a promise, on December eighteenth—”

He interrupted, each word coming slower than the one before, “Two thousand and ten, in our estate, to love you forever—I kept my word.”

His lips found hers. She responded with the same unspoken need, primal and raw. It wasn’t his imagination or a dream; they had the same desires. Then, it ended too soon. Without warning, Claire stood and swayed. Tony reached out to steady her. “Are you all right? What happened?”

Claire picked up her shoes and smoothed her dress. “I’m fine. I want to go now.”

He didn’t argue. In another minute they’d have been where they were in her condominium. Tony didn’t want Claire to associate tonight’s manipulation with sex. The next time they made love—and there would be a next time—she needed to admit her desires. There would be no more dreaming.

His eyes never left her as he called Eric. She looked beautiful, even with her smeared makeup and tousled hair; however, that wasn’t why he couldn’t look away. From her earlier paleness to the bouts with dizziness, Tony was worried. Perhaps he’d pushed her too far. Whatever the issue, he didn’t want her to fall. Once his call was done, he said, “Eric will have the car ready in the private garage in a few minutes.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he added, “If we enter the car in the garage, then we can avoid paparazzi.”

“Oh, good idea, I need to use the restroom, and I’ll be ready to leave.” Claire turned to walk away and then turned back. “We? Tony, I don’t need you to ride with me,” she paused. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Then I’ll escort you to the car, if that’s acceptable?”

Claire nodded and walked toward the bathroom. With her shoes dangling from her fingertips, her dress swept the floor. No one else needed to see her in this condition, though he could. To him, it was a gift, a very private view that he didn’t want to share. Soon enough the media would intrude upon their world. According to the text messages he’d received, he and Claire were the talk of the town—hell, the country.

When the elevator opened to the private parking area, Eric immediately opened the door to the backseat. As Claire nodded and entered the car, Tony spoke to Eric, “Ms. Claire would prefer to ride back to Palo Alto alone. Please call me when she’s safely to her door.”

“Yes, Mr. Rawlings,” Eric said as he began to shut Claire’s door.

“I can get this,” Tony said, as he leaned into the backseat and handed Claire her phone.

“Thank you, Tony. Good-bye.”

“Don’t forget the news release.”

“How could I?”

“We’ll need to discuss it further.”

“I’m discussed out.”

“I can tell you’re tired,” he admitted. “Go get some sleep. We can continue our discussion tomorrow, before I leave for Iowa.”

“I have plans tomorrow. Call me after you’re back in Iowa.”

He wasn’t in the mood to debate. “This would be better discussed in person.”

She relented. “Let me meet you somewhere.”

“Ten tomorrow morning. Text me the location; Palo Alto is fine.”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed with a nod.

“Tomorrow, Claire.” He closed the door, tapped the top of the car, and Eric drove away. Tony watched the taillights of the Mercedes C-Class grow smaller as it left the underground garage. Wearily, he made his way back to the empty penthouse.

As the bourbon burned his throat, his mind cleared. The evening had gone well. Despite Claire’s fire, she could still follow his rules. Tomorrow they would talk again and iron out the specifics of their reunion.

What you perceive, your observations, feelings, interpretations, are all your truth. Your truth is important. Yet it is not THE TRUTH.

—Linda Ellinor

Common sense would say that Tony’s best friends had too much going on with their son’s wedding less than a week away to take time for a visit from him; nevertheless, common sense had never been Tony’s calling card—especially when it came to his personal life. Fortunately, Brent and Courtney had been his friends for long enough that they were used to his ways. That was what Tony reminded himself as he neared their home on Sunday morning following the gala. They were his first stop. After them, his day would include a visit with Tim and Sue, as well as Tom and Bev.

During their discussions the day before, Tony and Claire agreed that in two weeks they’d meet in Chicago for a weekend of business activities, and reinforce the reunification perception to the world. He hated that she wanted her own accommodations. Yes, he’d offered that, but he’d hoped she wouldn’t think it was necessary. After all, they
had been
married, and his apartment held more than one bedroom. Shaking his head, he recalled how adamant she’d been about other issues as well. Claire refused his credit card for clothes, saying that if he didn’t like the way she dressed, he could find another companion. She also refused private planes and insisted on flying commercial. On more than one issue, Tony debated his response. He wanted to demand, command, and insist. He was Anthony Rawlings; his gut instinct and intuition had created a billion-dollar industry—he knew best. However, there was something about her perceived strength, the way she demanded and insisted, yet never commanded. It intrigued him. As he listened he found himself laughing. Not because her desires were funny, no. It was the way she did it. She listened and then politely refused many of his proposals.
Had there ever been anyone who had so blatantly and repeatedly told him no?
Definitely no one who knew him as well as Claire.