Behind His Eyes: Truth

“I have tried to explain—not at first, but they did.”

“Tony, I’m tired, too. I don’t have the energy to figure out your puzzles. I don’t plan on disclosing anything about your true identity to the media, if that’s part of your concern. I have, however, learned of many misconceptions regarding me during our relationship. I do plan on correcting those errors.”

“Why?” he asked.

She sat straight. “Because I can.”

Hearing his own words spewed back at him turned the metaphorical knife. Shit. How many times had he said the same thing to her?

Claire continued, “The world wants to know, and I’m willing to disclose.”

“It won’t happen.” He sat his glass on the table and leaned forward. “I came here to emphasize this is a waste of your time. Currently, my legal team is working diligently to stop any information regarding our marriage or relationship from public media. If anything appears on the Internet or anywhere else, a civil suit will immediately follow, against you, Meredith, and the offending sites.” He watched and waited. Red seeped and flowed, yet the woman before him appeared amused.

Finally, she retorted, “Well, at least this time you have the nerve to deliver the ultimatum in person, instead of sending Brent.”

His shoulders pulled back—damn. The knife had done a three-sixty. “I was angry about the plea.”

“You’ve made your point, but now it’s my turn.”

“Yes,” Tony quipped. “I recall, you did like your turn.”

Instead of taking his bait, she went on. “I want a promise from you.”

“What promise do you want from me?”

“I want a guarantee that the people in my life, my associates and friends, the people whom I’ve acquired aren’t in harm’s way.”

“My, Claire, you give me too much credit. I’m a businessman. I don’t have the ability to cause harm to anyone, much less those associated with you.”

“Simon, John… do these names mean anything to you? How about my parents, your parents? Are there more? I can’t seem to process right now.”

He bristled. How much did she know? “I don’t take responsibility for that entire list, and explain exactly what you’re requesting.”

“Actually, I don’t believe I’m requesting anything. I’m saying, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if anything happens to me, or my friends, or associates, my story and the truth behind our relationship will be made public. I will continue to work on the articles and stop production before everything is public; however, if anything happens to me, or my friends, everything will become public knowledge. You’re welcome to do damage control, but that’ll only be after the initial public response has been made and broadcast globally. As you know, once a perception is set, it’s difficult to change.”

He squeezed the stem of his glass. Through clenched teeth he confessed, “I don’t want you with anyone else. You’re mine and have been for a very long time.”

“That isn’t your choice. You sent me away!”

“No. You left; you drove out of our garage.”

Claire stood. “Tony, I’m done with this conversation. I’m tired; however, I have a few other demands.” Before he could respond to her candor, she continued, “John’s out of jail. I want his law license reinstated. You took it away—don’t deny it. Now, bring it back. I will consider that proof of your commitment to this agreement.”

“I never liked him.”

“I’m pretty sure the feeling is, and always has been, mutual. Nonetheless, he never deserved what you did to him.”

Tony walked toward the door. He was done, too—drained from an exhausting day and their exchange. He’d flown to San Diego to make his point; the ridiculous behavior with Meredith would stop. He hadn’t traveled to accept her petitions. Anthony Rawlings made demands; he didn’t receive them. That was how it had always been—not just with Claire, with everyone.

Claire’s question stilled his steps. “By the way, do you know who sent me the box?”

“Yes, my dear.” He gazed down into her questioning eyes, trying to block the green from registering. “That information wasn’t known by many. My list of candidates was quite limited. It didn’t take long to confirm my theory.”

She followed him to the door. The confidence she displayed only seconds earlier vaporized into the trusting woman he’d married—the one who knew that only he held the answers and only he made mandates. “Who?” she asked.

“Good-bye Claire—for now. May I have your hand?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

He didn’t answer; instead, he held out his hand and waited. Reluctantly, she placed her right hand in his upturned palm. Tony bowed, touched his lips to her knuckles, and turned her hand over. “Close your eyes.” She obeyed. “Keep them shut,” he whispered. She nodded as he reached into the pocket of his slacks, brought out her grandmother’s necklace, and placed it into her hand. Closing her fingers, he squeezed. “My sign of commitment. End this stupidity with Meredith.” Kissing her closed fingers, Tony opened the door and stepped from her suite.

Exhaustion consumed him as he strode toward the elevators. It was nearly midnight in San Diego, and Tony had a three-and-a-half hour flight back to Iowa. He closed his eyes. This flying back and forth to the West Coast was already getting old, and he needed to be back to this part of the country for a keynote address in two weeks. Thank God, he had a private plane. Perhaps if his concerns over Claire’s depth of knowledge didn’t plague his thoughts, he’d be able to get some sleep.