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.
Chapter Nine
Paving the way—May 2013
(Truth—Chapter 41 & Behind the Scenes)
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.