Tony stood as Nathaniel ranted on and on, lost in a tirade about Tony’s father, Sherman Nichols, and Jonathon Burke. Then without warning, Nathaniel turned his dark gaze on his grandson, and in his deep, menacing voice asked, “You know what?”
“No, sir,” Anton replied.
“You can’t lose everything until you have everything to lose. I had everything, and now look at me!”
It all made sense: after all of these years, Tony knew the truth. With Claire gone, his envelope was empty. In his dream, Nathaniel said that Tony received what he gave—and Tony finally conceded that his grandfather was right. Tony had given Claire a life with everything and then had taken it away—for the sake of the vendetta. In that process, he’d lost everything—everything he never realized he wanted. After she was gone, he still had the money, the estate, and the prestige, yet his life was as empty as the envelope in his hand. The vengeance had not only punished the people on their list, but it had punished him, taken away his everything.
It wasn’t until Claire was out of prison that Tony began to see. He’d been blinded by her actions and hadn’t realized how much he’d lost. Perhaps it was true and he was a selfish bastard, but seeing her beginning a new life, one without him, one with another man, cleared away the fog of Nathaniel’s vendetta.
Tony couldn’t make the past go away—if he could he would—however, he could spend forever showing Claire that he wanted her in his life, that without her, his world was empty. By allowing the vendetta to take away the only true happiness Tony had ever known, he’d failed his grandfather’s legacy. The Rawls name may be gone, but never had Nathaniel wished for an empty envelope—that was how Tony had failed.
Tony wasn’t sure how he would do it, or if it could be done, but he knew the woman asleep upstairs was his life, happiness, and future. In order to fill his void and honor his grandfather, he needed to make her see that, too. He needed to do more than that; he needed to control the one thing that could control him. Tony needed to control the red.
He had done it before, while Claire was in prison, and from high school until his acquisition of Claire. When Tony was at Blair Academy, before he turned off the red, he remembered life as highs and lows. After Nathaniel told him that fighting was unacceptable, he turned it off and everything was even. If a bump occurred, Tony eliminated it. If a company didn’t perform, he sold it. If the bottom line was red, Tony cut the overhead. Everything was black and white—no red.
That all changed when he brought Claire into his life. Tony tried to believe she was nothing more than an acquisition, someone who could be eliminated, but that wasn’t true. She filled his world with color. Oh, there was red—too much red—but there was also blue, yellow, and most vividly, green. She made him see the sky, trees, and lakes. With her, he saw the snow on the mountains and surf at the shore. Life was no longer a series of numbers and ledgers.
He didn’t recognize any of that when they were together. He’d been too consumed with controlling her. It wasn’t until after she was gone that he comprehended the truth.
To win her back, Tony knew he had to narrow his color spectrum. He wanted the highs, and after a year and a half of black and white, Tony even welcomed the lows. It was the red he needed to eliminate. The way he saw it, he’d built a billion-dollar industry from nothing; removing red from his world couldn’t be that difficult. One factor that he needed to depend upon was Claire. Could he ever truly trust her again? After all, she’d been the one to leave him. Would she once again follow his rules? Perhaps together, they could remove the red.
Placing the envelope back in the drawer, Tony checked the time—almost 6:00 PM. They needed to be at Tim’s in an hour and a half. Refocusing on his computer, Tony reviewed the end-of-day numbers. When he was done, he planned to shower, and if Claire weren’t awake, he’d go to her suite—her suite—and wake her. His lips turned upward, liking the sound of calling it her suite. It didn’t matter if the walls were painted a different color. It would always be her suite.
Tony reached for the knob of Claire’s door. As he grasped it, he remembered her requirements: she wanted a door with a lock from the inside. Straightening his shoulders, he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. As his knuckles rapped the hard wood and he waited for a response, Tony recalled the only other time he’d ever knocked upon her door was the night of their wedding. After a moment, he knocked again. When she didn’t answer, he slowly moved the lever, opened the door, and peered around the barrier. His breath caught in his lungs as he saw Claire; she was asleep in the king-sized bed. With all his might, Tony wanted to reconnect the electronic lock and keep Claire there forever.
Memories of them in that bed swirled through his consciousness as he moved closer. With each step, he said her name, “Claire.” He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, although that impression was paramount in his mind. She was a vision of peacefulness. “Claire—Claire, you need to wake. We’re supposed to be at Tim and Sue’s in an hour.” Approaching the bed, her serene expression transfixed him. Hoping not to startle her, he spoke louder, “Claire? Claire?” Partially out of necessity, but more out of desire, Tony touched her exposed shoulder. “Claire?”
She began to stir. His fingers purposely grazed the light blue satin bra strap. The allure of moving the covers and discovering the remainder of her attire was almost irresistible. Tony wondered if she could possibly be wearing matching light blue panties.
Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she sat up and pulled the blankets around her body. “Tony! What are you doing in here? You promised!”
He chuckled at her modesty. “I promised a lock, but the door wasn’t locked. I knocked multiple times. You must have been very tired.”
The alarm that was evident only moments ago dissipated into her beautiful pools of emerald. Even her tone eased. “I think I was. I have that jittery, just-awakened feeling.” Her long brown hair fell in waves around her beautiful face as she sighed and laid her head back upon the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty, and we need to be at Tim and Sue’s in an hour.” As if his feet were blocks of concrete, he stood statuesque, transfixed by her presence.
“Well,” she quipped, “if you’re going to stand there, then go find me a robe so that I can get ready.”
Slowly, willing his feet to move, Tony walked to her dressing room. Since she’d refused his credit card, he asked his personal shopper to supply a wardrobe for her to access in Iowa. Turning on the light, he saw a long pink robe. No doubt, that was what she had in mind; however, Tony knew there were other items of lingerie. If he found the right one, he might learn the answer to his burning blue-panties question.
When he emerged, he held up a transparent, black-silk negligee robe. It was a robe, he mused. When his eyes met hers, her eyebrows rose, lips pursed tight, and head shook from side to side. With a feigned pout, he re-entered the dressing room and returned again with the long pink robe.
“That’s better,” she bantered. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
Tony gallantly turned away, though every muscle in his body wanted to do a full three-sixty. “Don’t you think this is a bit ridiculous?” he asked. “We were married.”