It also seemed that realistically, Tony couldn’t hold her prisoner forever. From the beginning, he knew that one day the arrangement would need to end. What better long-term bind than a wedding ring? That’s what he explained to Catherine, when he told her that he’d finally decided to ask Claire to be his wife. Stoically, Catherine reminded him of the problems that his changes to their plan had already created. He reminded her that all the problems were under control, and assured her that they would remain under control when Claire was no longer a Nichols.
To Tony, that was the best part of his plan. Over the last eight months, he’d successfully removed Claire Nichols from the woman who slept beside him. She was, in actuality, the same woman, but anyone could see, she’d become someone new—from her new even blonder hair and leaner build, to the most important quality—her behavior. The woman who walked away from her job as a bartender at the Red Wing no longer existed. Tony wasn’t sure if even Claire realized the transition she’d been through.
The woman he’d created was as close to perfect as he could imagine. He also felt confident that as time passed, if further refinement was necessary, he was more than qualified to facilitate the change. After all, their paradigm was set. He was the teacher and Claire was the student. That wouldn’t change once they were married. The real change would be in the eyes of the world: everyone would know that she was his.
Dr. Leonard had been right to ask Tony to leave the room when she woke. He’d said, “She isn’t related to you, Mr. Rawlings.” That phrase rang over and over in Tony’s mind. The doctor had been right. Tony wanted the whole world to know that Claire did belong to him. No one would ever question his presence or right to be near her again.
As Eric drove Tony toward his New York City apartment building, Tony anticipated the evening he had planned. Everything was set, except her answer.
In most cases of business, Tony was sure of the answers he’d receive before he received them. With Claire, he wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure. He’d debated his proposal. He had a stunning ring from Tiffany and Company, but it was his wording that he couldn’t decide on. Over the course of the last eight months, Claire had been allowed very few choices. He wondered how it would be possible to ask her to choose marriage, without actually allowing her to choose. If he did that, was that what he really wanted? Her silence with Dr. Leonard was definitely a passed test. If presented with marriage or continued indebtedness, would he know that she truly wanted to marry him? Of course not. The only real test of her true feelings would be to offer her an alternate choice—her freedom.
The prospect made him nervous as hell.
What if she chose freedom? What if she said she wanted to leave him and never look back? Where would she go? Surely, she realized that there was nothing remaining of her previous life. Her apartment, car, and job were gone. She still had her sister. Even that was part of his plan. Claire didn’t know that her family was scheduled to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. What would happen if she decided on freedom? Without a doubt, she’d need to maintain his rules—private information could still not be divulged. Could he let her go?
Tony didn’t know.
When he entered the apartment’s bedroom, Tony was momentarily mesmerized by the woman at the mirror. Walking behind her, he nuzzled her neck. As his breath bathed her soft, perfumed skin, he said, “Good evening, Claire. I trust you were successful today with your shopping endeavors?”
Tilting her head to allow him better access, she smiled. “Yes, I was out the better part of the day, and I found a whole new ensemble for tonight’s mysterious activities. You know,” she feigned a pout toward the mirror before continuing, “it’d be easier to shop, if you’d tell me more about our plans.”
“All in due time, my dear, all in due time.” He kissed her cheek, walked toward the dressing room, and called, “I can’t wait to see tonight’s ensemble.”
When Tony reentered the bedroom on the way to his shower, he caught Claire’s fiery gaze in the mirror. He’d learned to read her moods, and the fire he saw in the reflection wasn’t a battle of wills—what he saw was desire. The way her cheeks reddened when their eyes met told him that she knew that she’d been caught. She’d been watching him with the expression of a girl looking through the candy store window. Totally nude, he moved behind her, wrapped her in his arms, and maneuvered his large hands beneath her flimsy robe. As he caressed her soft skin, he brushed his lips against her neck and whispered, “Do you think joining me in the shower would be detrimental to your hair and makeup?”
Goose bumps materialized on her arms and legs, as she breathlessly replied, “I think it would.”
“Then perhaps we should plan it for another time?” His hands contradicted his words as they continued their descent.
“Or,” Claire closed her eyes and tilted her head against his bare chest, “we could postpone your plans?”
Tony’s body was obviously up for that idea, and the way she molded against him had his thoughts jumbled, but his mind prevailed. “Oh, God, I want to, but we have plenty of time for that. Tonight, I have special plans for you.” He slowly stepped back, but before he relinquished his touch, he said, “And, so far, you look amazing. I believe I like your outfit now better than the one you bought.”
With her robe now lying on the floor in a black silk puddle, Claire’s cheeks blushed, and she flashed a modest smile. “It’s November. I believe I’d get cold as we walk the streets of New York.”