Breaking her spirit had been his goal, and in true Anthony Rawlings fashion, he succeeded. He remembered every minute, both in his theater and in her suite. Tony pushed Claire to a place she didn’t want to go. He’d exhibited his power and watched as the fire behind her green eyes dimmed. Then, he purposely dowsed it some more. He remembered the note he’d left on her table:
I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It’s
hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage.
I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is
available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust
last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t
disappoint me.
He left that with the intention of quenching any renegade sparks. At the time, it had been invigorating.
Then he left and—almost immediately—the elation faded.
Tony didn’t doubt his power—it was obvious. He had the ability to make Claire’s world heaven or hell; however, for a reason that Tony didn’t fully comprehend, that control didn’t satisfy him the way it once had. From the beginning of her acquisition, he’d thought of it like a business deal. He made those every day. Companies were bought and sold. They were expanded or the doors were closed. Employees benefited or suffered—it happened.
Tony told himself over and over that Claire’s role was nothing more than that of an employee—maybe less. Therefore, when his procurement was complete, when he’d succeeded and broken her spirit, he should’ve experienced the euphoria that accompanied a hard-fought gain. In the case of this acquisition, taking Claire’s mind and spirit had been more difficult than taking her body. It would seem as though his jubilation should’ve lasted longer than the car ride to the plane. It didn’t.
Without warning, uneasiness settled in.
It wasn’t that Tony missed Claire while he was in Europe; nevertheless, she continually infiltrated his thoughts. After a day or two, he decided to check the feed from her suite, believing it would satisfy his curiosity and allow him to concentrate on the matters at hand. Since there was a seven-hour time difference between Switzerland and Iowa, the morning that he peered into his iPad, he found Claire peacefully asleep in her bed. Obviously, she wasn’t having the same insomnia issues that had plagued him.
The small peek helped. Although he wasn’t able to keep Claire out of his thoughts, now those thoughts were images of her sleeping. He’d be negotiating or discussing something with someone and the satin strap of her nightgown, which had been barely visible on his small screen, would come to mind. He’d close his eyes and see her relaxed expression. If he concentrated long enough, Tony was sure that he could smell her scent, a fragrant mixture of perfume, hairspray, and sex. He’d imagine what it was like sleeping with her and removing the satin and lace from her soft skin. Although he enjoyed the way the negligees hugged her curves, they were merely for show. When he was home, she rarely spent the night actually sleeping in them.
Then, as his day progressed, his newfound peace faded. Each time he checked the feed from her suite, even late into his evening, he found the room empty. With time-lapsed speed, he saw the cleaning staff, but Claire was absent. The last image he found of her was before 9:00 AM in Iowa.
As he was about to retire, around midnight in Geneva, Claire’s suite was still empty. It didn’t make sense. It was almost 5:00 PM in Iowa City, and she should be there—it was her job! Nevertheless, she wasn’t. Tony checked the library, the theater, the pool, and the gardens. He couldn’t locate her on any monitors.
Then he remembered his note. He’d told Claire that Eric was available to her while he was gone. Assuring himself that she was only out shopping and safely with Eric, Tony tried to go to sleep. Behind his closed eyes, images of her sleeping with her sun-lightened hair fanned over her pillow and that damn satin strap fought for contention with his new worries and concerns regarding her whereabouts. Finally, he gave into his curiosity and called Eric.
“Yes, Mr. Rawlings?”
“I was checking to see where you’ve taken Ms. Claire in my absence, and to learn if you’re nearly back to the estate.”
“Sir?”
Uncharacteristically, Tony’s voice reflected his concerns. “Ms. Claire. I told her that you’d be available if she wanted to leave the estate. You have accompanied her, haven’t you? You know not to let her out by herself.”
“Sir, I do know her limitations. However, she’s not requested to leave the estate. I haven’t taken her anywhere.”
“She wasn’t with you today, for most of the day, and currently?”
“No, sir,” Eric replied. “I can go to the main house and locate her for you, if you’d like?”
Tony decided to go another direction. Dismissing Eric, he disconnected the line. His chest felt tight as he fought to inhale. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he walked down the hall to the small liquor cabinet in the sitting room of his suite. The bottle clinked the crystal as his unsteady hand poured two fingers of bourbon into the tumbler. The smooth amber fluid numbed his throat and calmed his nerves as it disappeared in one swallow. He poured another glass and reached for his phone. With steadier fingers, he retrieved Catherine’s personal number and hit CALL.
Catherine informed him that Claire was spending her days hiking.
Hiking? What the hell? To where? To whom?
Catherine only said that Claire took a lunch and returned each day by 6:00 PM.