Consequences
Page 13
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Her eyes widened as she turned from the window to face him. “She’s given me her advice,” Claire answered. “But I’d feel better if I heard yours.”
He liked her respectful tone. “Very well, when we arrive there’ll probably be photographers. Don’t act surprised or shocked by the attention. Just flash a beautiful smile and radiate confidence. Stay next to me at all times. There’ll be reporters who’ll try to learn your identity. I have a publicist who’ll know the time to release any necessary information. That is not you. I’ll do most of the talking; however, common sense will need to be with you. If spoken to, you will respond, but do not share information that is privileged. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“I’ve been asked to attend this event because of a donation I made to the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Have you ever been to a symphony before?”
“No.”
“The symphony is a delightful evening. I believe you’ll enjoy the music. This conductor is incredibly talented.”
“Thank you, Anthony, for allowing me to join you this evening.”
“I admit you’ve learned your lessons well. Now it’s time to see if you can continue to follow the rules outside the boundaries of my estate.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Anthony reached for Claire’s chin, turned it toward him, and slowed his words. “You will succeed. Failure in a public setting is not an option.”
He locked his eyes on hers and waited for an appropriate response. It didn’t take long. “Yes, Anthony. I will continue to follow your rules.”
“I assume you’re currently following all of my rules?” He lifted a brow.
Claire nodded as her cheeks flushed.
“We can investigate that later,” Anthony taunted as he placed his hand on her thigh.
When he moved his hand upward, she whispered, “I am.”
He already knew the answer. First, she didn’t own any panties, and as he helped her into the car, he’d allowed his hand to graze her firm behind. If there’d been anything under the beaded fabric, he would’ve known. He only mentioned his rule as a reminder of his authority. Anthony knew from Catherine that his forbiddance of undergarments continued to make Claire uncomfortable. He wanted Claire to remember as she interacted with strangers that he controlled everything. There was nothing he couldn’t do to her, or make her do. Exposing her in public with absolutely nothing under her expensive dress reinforced his stance.
When the car slowed and stopped, Anthony whispered, “Wait for Eric. He’ll open the door and assist you in getting out. I’ll be right behind you, and we’ll enter the theater together.”
As he glanced out the limousine’s window, Anthony realized that he’d underestimated the importance of this event. It may be only Davenport, Iowa, but the sidewalk was roped off and cluttered with reporters. If Claire chose to stand before them and make a public announcement about kidnapping, even he might not be able to manage damage control.
Although he was glad that he’d just reminded Claire of his rules, he worried if it had been enough. He didn’t have time to discuss the consequences of failure. As soon as they were out of the car, Anthony put his hand in the small of her back and directed her away from the reporters. The contact served as her reminder—her warning. By the time they reached the second level and cocktails, people were coming from every direction.
It was as he handed Claire a glass of champagne that his anxiety began to wane. He saw in her eyes—those green eyes—her unfulfilled need for his approval. This time, he smiled and whispered in her ear, “You are truly lovely tonight.” Instantaneously, he knew that Claire wouldn’t disappoint him. She wouldn’t escape or make a public announcement. It wasn’t her words; she hadn’t spoken. It was her countenance—he just knew. Each time he introduced her or she spoke, she impressed him with her performance. When the lights flashed, he guided her to their private box. It was a place where he’d sat many times—just a box; nonetheless, Claire scanned the auditorium like a child surveying the tree on Christmas morning.
He reminded himself that she hadn’t seen anything, other than his estate, in over two months.
Before he could process her behavior and allow the relief of her compliance to truly settle in, the auditorium darkened, and the curator began to speak—it was about him. Suddenly, the spotlight hit their box, and Anthony did what he’d always done—appeared the perfect gentleman. The entire time he smiled and waved, he imagined the possibility of Claire jumping up and running for the hills. As he sat back down, her expression was unexpectedly pleasant. He leaned over and gently took her hand. Quite honestly, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t or hadn’t taken from her. She belonged to him—all of her. They had a contract. He reached for her hand for one reason. It was an unspoken warning, just as when he touched the small of her back. The contact was his silent reminder to follow his rules.
When the last song ended and the conductor faced the crowd, Anthony looked toward his acquisition. The evening had gone even better than he imagined. His mind swirled with the possibilities of future events. It would be a relief to not have to deal with other women and their baggage. With this arrangement, he could do anything he wanted and, apparently, still be accompanied by the perfect companion. When Claire whispered her gratitude in his ear, Anthony knew she deserved something for her behavior—a positive consequence.
He liked her respectful tone. “Very well, when we arrive there’ll probably be photographers. Don’t act surprised or shocked by the attention. Just flash a beautiful smile and radiate confidence. Stay next to me at all times. There’ll be reporters who’ll try to learn your identity. I have a publicist who’ll know the time to release any necessary information. That is not you. I’ll do most of the talking; however, common sense will need to be with you. If spoken to, you will respond, but do not share information that is privileged. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“I’ve been asked to attend this event because of a donation I made to the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Have you ever been to a symphony before?”
“No.”
“The symphony is a delightful evening. I believe you’ll enjoy the music. This conductor is incredibly talented.”
“Thank you, Anthony, for allowing me to join you this evening.”
“I admit you’ve learned your lessons well. Now it’s time to see if you can continue to follow the rules outside the boundaries of my estate.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Anthony reached for Claire’s chin, turned it toward him, and slowed his words. “You will succeed. Failure in a public setting is not an option.”
He locked his eyes on hers and waited for an appropriate response. It didn’t take long. “Yes, Anthony. I will continue to follow your rules.”
“I assume you’re currently following all of my rules?” He lifted a brow.
Claire nodded as her cheeks flushed.
“We can investigate that later,” Anthony taunted as he placed his hand on her thigh.
When he moved his hand upward, she whispered, “I am.”
He already knew the answer. First, she didn’t own any panties, and as he helped her into the car, he’d allowed his hand to graze her firm behind. If there’d been anything under the beaded fabric, he would’ve known. He only mentioned his rule as a reminder of his authority. Anthony knew from Catherine that his forbiddance of undergarments continued to make Claire uncomfortable. He wanted Claire to remember as she interacted with strangers that he controlled everything. There was nothing he couldn’t do to her, or make her do. Exposing her in public with absolutely nothing under her expensive dress reinforced his stance.
When the car slowed and stopped, Anthony whispered, “Wait for Eric. He’ll open the door and assist you in getting out. I’ll be right behind you, and we’ll enter the theater together.”
As he glanced out the limousine’s window, Anthony realized that he’d underestimated the importance of this event. It may be only Davenport, Iowa, but the sidewalk was roped off and cluttered with reporters. If Claire chose to stand before them and make a public announcement about kidnapping, even he might not be able to manage damage control.
Although he was glad that he’d just reminded Claire of his rules, he worried if it had been enough. He didn’t have time to discuss the consequences of failure. As soon as they were out of the car, Anthony put his hand in the small of her back and directed her away from the reporters. The contact served as her reminder—her warning. By the time they reached the second level and cocktails, people were coming from every direction.
It was as he handed Claire a glass of champagne that his anxiety began to wane. He saw in her eyes—those green eyes—her unfulfilled need for his approval. This time, he smiled and whispered in her ear, “You are truly lovely tonight.” Instantaneously, he knew that Claire wouldn’t disappoint him. She wouldn’t escape or make a public announcement. It wasn’t her words; she hadn’t spoken. It was her countenance—he just knew. Each time he introduced her or she spoke, she impressed him with her performance. When the lights flashed, he guided her to their private box. It was a place where he’d sat many times—just a box; nonetheless, Claire scanned the auditorium like a child surveying the tree on Christmas morning.
He reminded himself that she hadn’t seen anything, other than his estate, in over two months.
Before he could process her behavior and allow the relief of her compliance to truly settle in, the auditorium darkened, and the curator began to speak—it was about him. Suddenly, the spotlight hit their box, and Anthony did what he’d always done—appeared the perfect gentleman. The entire time he smiled and waved, he imagined the possibility of Claire jumping up and running for the hills. As he sat back down, her expression was unexpectedly pleasant. He leaned over and gently took her hand. Quite honestly, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t or hadn’t taken from her. She belonged to him—all of her. They had a contract. He reached for her hand for one reason. It was an unspoken warning, just as when he touched the small of her back. The contact was his silent reminder to follow his rules.
When the last song ended and the conductor faced the crowd, Anthony looked toward his acquisition. The evening had gone even better than he imagined. His mind swirled with the possibilities of future events. It would be a relief to not have to deal with other women and their baggage. With this arrangement, he could do anything he wanted and, apparently, still be accompanied by the perfect companion. When Claire whispered her gratitude in his ear, Anthony knew she deserved something for her behavior—a positive consequence.
