Consequences
Page 21
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“Tony, you said you built your house about fifteen years ago?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
She continued to gaze toward the house. “I’m not used to seeing it from the front—it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He looked out the window as Eric stopped the car. It was a beautiful structure, an architectural wonder.
Claire continued, “But it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”
He nodded. “I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.” His thoughts went to Nathaniel. He wasn’t disappointing him; this house was a testament to that.
As they both exited the car, Claire’s eyes widened with wonder. It was as if she were seeing the house for the first time, not as if she’d been living there for months. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a house like this?”
He looked at the combination of rock and stone—memories of an earlier time threatened to come forward. He pushed them away. “It was my grandfather’s, not my parents. My father was weak. However, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.” Tony wasn’t sure what propelled him to share that bit of information. He’d blame it on his recent thoughts of Nathaniel. No matter, it was true, and there was no way Claire would know her connection—but he did. Walking toward his office, Claire followed a few steps behind. Her sudden acknowledgement of the place wherein she’d been living for so long was amusing.
“It truly is amazing,” she said. “Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”
He shrugged. “Mostly. I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.” Tony looked up from his desk to a bewildered expression. Suddenly, her placid veneer was gone. The wheels of understanding were visibly turning in her head. Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”
Her voice quivered, “Y-you mean my suite is under surveillance? L-like there are cameras?”
Revulsion emanated from her pained expression. When their eyes met, his grin widened. “Yes, of course. It’s all video-recorded and saved.” Claire visibly paled as she backed toward the wall and sat on the nearest chair. Basking in her newfound discomfort, Tony added, “Perhaps we could have a premiere viewing and critique? Then we could work on revisions.”
“Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”
He felt his power and control return. It was as if he’d just received a transfusion of domination. Yes, yesterday and last night he’d taken her body, but he’d done that before. This was so much more—her mind and her spirit. This was what she’d successfully kept from him. He stood taller with the revelation: it was now his for the taking, or it soon would be.
“But, my dear Claire,” he cooed with mock adoration, “I am not. Now, the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed—only I have that. They do have a view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without your seeing them.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she asked, “But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”
“Because I can—I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” As Tony started to walk toward the hall doors, Claire sat statuesque. He reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” When she still didn’t move, he casually added, “and in case you’re wondering, yes, this room, too, is under surveillance—except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He gestured toward the place where he’d administered her first lesson in actions and consequences.
While her sudden look of desperation inspired him, he needed to go into Iowa City. The work at his corporate office wouldn’t wait. “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair now.”
Apparently, she was still capable of obeying, as she silently walked past him toward the stairs. Closing the door to his office, he smirked. Who’s manipulating whom? He couldn’t wait for the viewing.
As Tony went about his business at his corporate office, his mind continually looped back to his video library—there were so many. Between phone calls, spreadsheets, and meetings, he debated about which would be best to show Claire. He knew that she didn’t want to see them—or star in them—or acknowledge them. It was obvious by her reaction. Until she responded so vehemently, he had no idea she’d detest the idea that much, but once she did, he knew he’d found that missing piece of the puzzle. That made the viewing all that much more special. Now, as he departed for ten days in Europe, he could leave confident, knowing without a doubt that he was in control.
It was Tony’s idea to eat on the patio. He called Catherine from the car and told her to have dinner served outside. He wanted the distractions of the outdoors. He hadn’t been this excited about his plans for Claire in a while. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy all of the uses he’d invented for her, but this was new. Concentrating on eating dinner in her suite or in the dining room with only the two of them would’ve been too difficult. The outdoor setting worked as a distraction—for him. Claire seemed to be another story. She wasn’t her normal chatty self. She looked the part, dressed appropriately for dinner, nodded and responded at all the right times as Tony talked about New York, her shopping, his meetings, and his impending European trip, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. As much as he wanted to broach the subject of their movie night, he didn’t, partially out of curiosity. He wondered if she would bring it up. There were times when she surprised him by jumping headfirst into conversations he was confident that she’d rather avoid. That candor and resilience amazed him. Tonight was different; Claire emanated an aura of defeat before the battle even began. No, he wouldn’t bring it up; it was too enjoyable watching Claire push her food around her plate and sip her iced tea. Perhaps, he pondered, she hoped that by avoiding the subject it would go away. That would not happen! His anticipation was palpable.
“Yes, why do you ask?”
She continued to gaze toward the house. “I’m not used to seeing it from the front—it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He looked out the window as Eric stopped the car. It was a beautiful structure, an architectural wonder.
Claire continued, “But it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”
He nodded. “I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.” His thoughts went to Nathaniel. He wasn’t disappointing him; this house was a testament to that.
As they both exited the car, Claire’s eyes widened with wonder. It was as if she were seeing the house for the first time, not as if she’d been living there for months. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a house like this?”
He looked at the combination of rock and stone—memories of an earlier time threatened to come forward. He pushed them away. “It was my grandfather’s, not my parents. My father was weak. However, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.” Tony wasn’t sure what propelled him to share that bit of information. He’d blame it on his recent thoughts of Nathaniel. No matter, it was true, and there was no way Claire would know her connection—but he did. Walking toward his office, Claire followed a few steps behind. Her sudden acknowledgement of the place wherein she’d been living for so long was amusing.
“It truly is amazing,” she said. “Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”
He shrugged. “Mostly. I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.” Tony looked up from his desk to a bewildered expression. Suddenly, her placid veneer was gone. The wheels of understanding were visibly turning in her head. Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”
Her voice quivered, “Y-you mean my suite is under surveillance? L-like there are cameras?”
Revulsion emanated from her pained expression. When their eyes met, his grin widened. “Yes, of course. It’s all video-recorded and saved.” Claire visibly paled as she backed toward the wall and sat on the nearest chair. Basking in her newfound discomfort, Tony added, “Perhaps we could have a premiere viewing and critique? Then we could work on revisions.”
“Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”
He felt his power and control return. It was as if he’d just received a transfusion of domination. Yes, yesterday and last night he’d taken her body, but he’d done that before. This was so much more—her mind and her spirit. This was what she’d successfully kept from him. He stood taller with the revelation: it was now his for the taking, or it soon would be.
“But, my dear Claire,” he cooed with mock adoration, “I am not. Now, the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed—only I have that. They do have a view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without your seeing them.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she asked, “But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”
“Because I can—I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” As Tony started to walk toward the hall doors, Claire sat statuesque. He reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” When she still didn’t move, he casually added, “and in case you’re wondering, yes, this room, too, is under surveillance—except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He gestured toward the place where he’d administered her first lesson in actions and consequences.
While her sudden look of desperation inspired him, he needed to go into Iowa City. The work at his corporate office wouldn’t wait. “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair now.”
Apparently, she was still capable of obeying, as she silently walked past him toward the stairs. Closing the door to his office, he smirked. Who’s manipulating whom? He couldn’t wait for the viewing.
As Tony went about his business at his corporate office, his mind continually looped back to his video library—there were so many. Between phone calls, spreadsheets, and meetings, he debated about which would be best to show Claire. He knew that she didn’t want to see them—or star in them—or acknowledge them. It was obvious by her reaction. Until she responded so vehemently, he had no idea she’d detest the idea that much, but once she did, he knew he’d found that missing piece of the puzzle. That made the viewing all that much more special. Now, as he departed for ten days in Europe, he could leave confident, knowing without a doubt that he was in control.
It was Tony’s idea to eat on the patio. He called Catherine from the car and told her to have dinner served outside. He wanted the distractions of the outdoors. He hadn’t been this excited about his plans for Claire in a while. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy all of the uses he’d invented for her, but this was new. Concentrating on eating dinner in her suite or in the dining room with only the two of them would’ve been too difficult. The outdoor setting worked as a distraction—for him. Claire seemed to be another story. She wasn’t her normal chatty self. She looked the part, dressed appropriately for dinner, nodded and responded at all the right times as Tony talked about New York, her shopping, his meetings, and his impending European trip, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. As much as he wanted to broach the subject of their movie night, he didn’t, partially out of curiosity. He wondered if she would bring it up. There were times when she surprised him by jumping headfirst into conversations he was confident that she’d rather avoid. That candor and resilience amazed him. Tonight was different; Claire emanated an aura of defeat before the battle even began. No, he wouldn’t bring it up; it was too enjoyable watching Claire push her food around her plate and sip her iced tea. Perhaps, he pondered, she hoped that by avoiding the subject it would go away. That would not happen! His anticipation was palpable.
