“So you’re here to turn me in?”
His hazel eyes closed, jaws clenched, and head shook. “No, Claire, I’m here to make sure you completed your little endeavor at the financial institution today and to set up a meeting to move you to your permanent residence. Where will that be?”
Claire’s neck straightened. She walked onto the balcony and peered over the wrought iron rail. Phil followed closely behind. His words were a mere whisper against the sounds of the blossoming nightlife below. “You know, the last time I followed you on to a balcony, you played me for a fool. Is that your intent tonight?”
Claire turned toward him. “You know it isn’t. Things have changed.”
“Some things.”
“In San Antonio I was protecting someone.”
“In San Antonio you out smarted me. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me.” He stepped closer. “Until that trip,” his breath bathed her cheeks, “I had preconceived ideas about you.”
Claire stood her ground and looked up into his eyes, “Preconceived?”
His gaze searched her contact covered eyes, “I researched you, you know?” She didn’t answer. “From the beginning of my assignment with Mr. Rawlings, I read all about Claire Rawlings Nichols and made assessments based on that research. I predetermined you to be this woman who tried to kill her multibillion dollar husband -- a gold-digger. I assumed he hired me to keep an eye on you, to let him know if you were getting close. I assumed he was afraid you might try it again. Then I saw you for the first time; you were walking down that street in Palo Alto. The wind was blowing your hair.” He reached out, removed the dark wig, and loosened strands of her once again chestnut hair from the confines of the hair pins. She shook her head allowing the trusses to fall free. “I knew Mr. Rawlings wanted you, not because he was afraid. He wanted you. His insistence at knowing your every move proved he wasn’t willing to give you up. Then, you tricked me in San Antonio.”
He stepped away. Slowly Phil settled at the wrought iron table, leaving Claire against the rail as the glow of the setting sun framed her beautiful face. She smiled at his reference as he went on, “I learned that week, you were so much more than a beautiful woman. You’re smart, strong, sneaky, and conniving.”
“If I recall, you called me a bitch.”
A grin filled his face. “I assure you, it was meant as a compliment. I find those qualities very endearing.” He leaned forward, “I immediately became enthralled. From that moment, I’ve fought an intense desire to have you for myself.”
Claire lowered her eyes. Although she didn’t want to encourage him; she needed his help, “Thank you,” she said demurely.
“For what?”
“For all you’ve done.”
His head tilted sideways, questioning her.
She went on, “Thank you -- for your kind note in San Diego, for saving my life in Palo Alto, and for wasting your talents babysitting me for months on end.”
“Clair... Isabelle,” he corrected, “I wish I could’ve been there sooner, in Palo Alto.”
Her smile turned bashful; she walked back into the suite. Phil rose and followed her within. “You, Harry, Tony, and the security guy all saved me.” She turned her intense gaze on him, “Right now, I’m nervous. Phil, I have so many questions – things aren’t adding up.” His gaze stopped her. She needed to collect her thoughts. Exhaling she said, “I’m going to go get these damn contacts out. Help yourself to the bar.”
Phil smiled, “Good, I like your eyes much better green.” He turned and walked toward the highboy containing bottles of fine liquors. Phil poured himself two fingers of Cognac as Claire disappeared into the bedroom.
When she returned, wearing a casual pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, and no contacts, she saw Phil’s intense glower. As their eyes met he said, “I’ve watched both of you.” He finished the Cognac and added more to his glass. “I realize this whole thing is to hurt your ex-husband,” he shrugged his shoulders, “which could work out well for me. But... I have to say, I’ve watched a lot of people. Love and hate are both strong emotions. You’ve sacrificed everyone you hold dear to hurt Anthony Rawlings. You could’ve gone on living in California. The governor of Iowa wiped your record clean. Yet, your anger, your crusade was continually met by him. You told me it was a game to him. I think it was a game to both of you, a real life chess game. Every move you made he countered. In order to get his king, you sacrificed your queen, a bold move. One I believe will work. But at what cost?”
Claire stood dumbfounded. She didn’t understand Phil’s words. “What are you saying? You think I’m here to hurt Tony?”
Phil swallowed the remaining contents of his tumbler, “That’s what Ms. London said. She said you wanted away from him. You were afraid to leave him, of what he’d do... so this was the plan.” Claire tried to follow. “Pretty creative; you exploited Mr. Rawlings’ obsession with you, his Achilles heel, to penetrate his invincibility.”
Claire didn’t speak, she couldn’t. Her mind swirled as the cyclone of thoughts became a category five hurricane. Phil took her silence as an invitation to continue his notion. “I read your theories of retaliation, for sins of past generations. I’m not saying they aren’t true. Nonetheless, don’t you find it odd? The only person who continues to survive is you.”
Claire stuttered, “You... you read my theories? Where?”
“On your laptop -- of course.”
Claire involuntarily took two steps backward. Her legs hit the sofa and she crumbled into the soft cushions. “You found my laptop?”
“Yes, the night you were attacked. It was in Patrick Chester’s hotel room.”
Her eyes flashed, “And you gave it to Tony?”
He shrugged as he poured another two fingers, “I tried. He was preoccupied -- with you. Actually, he was in the air when I found it. I reached Ms. London instead. She’s the one who told me your plan, very ingenious.” He tipped his glass in Claire’s direction.
Claire realized the liquor was helping his honesty. “What exactly did she say?”
“She told me to bring it to Iowa; I did. You were still in the hospital.”
“So Tony never got the laptop?”
“She told me she’d give it to him. He contacted me after you woke. He told me you were going to Iowa, and my job was done. He wasn’t happy with me. I think he blamed me for Patrick Chester getting to you. Honestly, I don’t think we ever discussed the laptop.” Phil cocked his head to one side, “Your ex can be difficult.”
She lowered her head near her knees; the fullness of her midsection restricted her motion. She straightened. “Yes, a very ingenious plan; however, I can’t take credit.” Claire leaned toward Phil, “You told me before, you work for money. Who’s paying you – now?”
“You -- Ms. London gave me the starter money, but you’re paying me for everything else. Did your transaction work?”
“Are you still reporting to her?”
“No, not since I told her you were out of the U.S. She didn’t want to know more – plausible deniability.”