Behind His Eyes

Chapter 2

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences.

—Robert Green Ingersoll

From the speaker on Anthony’s desk, he listened to his assistant’s voice, “Shelly is on line three.”

Anthony’s thoughts went from the spreadsheet on his screen to his publicist. “Patricia, put her through.”

Immediately, he heard Shelly’s concern. “Mr. Rawlings, Jennifer McAdams is in Italy on a photo shoot, and it’s lasted longer than she planned.”

“And you’re telling me this because—”

“Because, sir, she’s supposed to accompany you this evening to the Quad City Symphony at the Adler Theater.”

Anthony ran his fingers through his hair. Damn—he’d forgotten all about that, and he actually enjoyed Jenny’s company, unlike many of the women he’s been seen with over the years. “Well, then I’ll cancel.”

“With all due respect, you can’t. The theater will remain open because of your donation. They’re planning on your attending, and there’s a long list of guests coming to see you …”

Shelly rambled about the importance of his presence, as Anthony thought more about the outing. Could this be an unplanned opportunity to test Claire outside the estate? His grin emerged—outside. She’d just recently earned her way outside of the house. Truthfully, she’d been doing much better than he imagined, and outside would’ve happened much sooner, if only she’d asked. He shifted slightly in his large leather chair. Even the slightest thought of his complete control over her life had an effect on his body.

Shelly’s voice brought him back to the subject at hand. The idea of a new test intrigued him. This would push her outside of her newly established comfort level. Besides, if she accompanied him and succeeded, she could earn more privileges. If she failed—well, they both knew what that could bring.

Shelly’s voice quieted. Anthony waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “What was that?”

“Do you want me to call Julia?”

“No.” Although, like Jenny, Julia too was a model, she was too high-maintenance for Anthony’s liking.

“Do you plan to attend alone?”

Anthony wrestled with his thoughts. If he took Claire out in public and she failed, wouldn’t Davenport, Iowa, be a better testing ground, than say Chicago or New York? He could manage damage control much better in his own backyard, and taking her out into the world would accomplish another goal. Anthony truly wasn’t convinced Claire contemplated the magnitude of his power. Oh, she saw his wealth regarding the estate, and her behavior had steadily improved over the last two months; however, did she really comprehend his reach? Did she truly understand that any attempts at escape could be quickly thwarted? Taking her to an event where he’s the man of honor would show her firsthand the depth and breadth of his power. Anthony made his decision: it was time. “I won’t be attending alone.”

“You realize if your assistant accompanies you to any more events the papers will start to speculate.”

What? He hadn’t even thought about taking Patricia. Yes, she’d accompanied him to a few events, but it was totally platonic and, at the time, an outing of convenience. “I can assure you that speculating would be all they could do. She’s only accompanied me a few times, and they were all business-related. There’s nothing to speculate about. I’ll be taking someone else.”

“Would you like to ask this lady, or would you like me to call her?”

He had to stifle the chuckle that rumbled in the back of his throat. Ask? He had no intentions of asking this person. This person didn’t have a choice in the matter—or any matter. After the first few glitches, she seemed to have come to terms with this reality. This outing would be another duty she could fulfill. Anthony was growing tired of the parade of women on his arm. He had a lot of deals in the works, and listening to some woman prattle small talk didn’t sound appealing. If he took Claire, he could avoid the whole wine-and-dine thing. They would simply attend the symphony and come home. It was much simpler.

“No, I don’t need you to call.”

“Mr. Rawlings, I’ll need a name.”

Of course she would. “Her name is Claire Nichols. She’s from Atlanta.”

Shelly didn’t speak.

“Did you get that?”

“I did, sir. Is there more?”

“No. That’s all that needs to be released.”

“Perhaps you’d like me to do some research and verify that there isn’t a history that could negatively affect you?”

“No.” He sat taller. “There’s no history. If that’s all, I have work to do.”

“Mr. Rawlings, can you please spell Nichols for me?”

Anthony gripped the receiver. “N-I-C-H-O-L-S.” He tried to soften his tone. After all, Shelly was paid very well to maintain his reputation. He’d never before turned down her help in assuring its untarnished veneer. He explained, “I’ve already had her investigated.” Sighing. “You know me, Shelly. I wouldn’t take that risk; however, she’s not the type of woman I normally see. The whole public thing is new to her. I don’t want her getting unwanted publicity.”

Shelly exhaled. “Yes, I can imagine that would be difficult. Very well, her name and hometown will be all the information that I release. Thank you, Mr. Rawlings. That’s all I have at the moment.”

“Very well.” He hung up the receiver. Shit! Was that the right call? Rolling his mouse over the mouse pad, Anthony Rawlings’ spreadsheets came back to life. A committee had worked days—perhaps weeks—compiling all the data; yet he wasn’t seeing the numbers. No, he was seeing the woman back at the estate.

In the beginning, Anthony worked to make her a faceless person—perhaps like an employee at a business he was about to close. He told himself that she was nothing to him. Allowing Claire to pay her family’s debt was not Nathaniel’s original plan; however, Anthony reasoned, that some fates were worse than death. Catherine disagreed—at first—but she came around, and although he valued her opinion, Anthony’s money propelled their plan. He’d do whatever he damn well wanted. He saw by the way Catherine pursed her lips and stared, that she wasn’t pleased with his decision, but when it came to this matter Anthony wouldn’t budge—Claire was different.

Truly, it was ironic that he’d made his case—his basis for his decision—based on the fact that she was unique, when he continually told himself she wasn’t special. That was why he wanted to take her to the symphony—because she wasn’t special. He wouldn’t need to listen to her small talk, although he knew for a fact that Claire liked to talk! He wouldn’t need to do anything that was expected on a date. Anthony could do whatever he wanted—this wasn’t a date!

This outing would be a test. He squared his shoulders and dialed Catherine’s cell number on his private cell phone. She answered after only a few rings. “Yes, Anton?” Obviously, she was alone. In the company of others, she maintained a more formal appearance.

“Have Claire ready by 6:00 PM. She’s accompanying me to the symphony in Davenport.”

“Excuse me?”

Anthony slowed his words. “Did I stutter?”

“I just think I misunderstood you. I’m not sure she’s ready for this. Do you realize what could happen if—”

“Then make sure she’s ready and that nothing happens. I’m not in this alone.”

“I was not in favor—”

“But,” he paused, “you’ve supported my decision. I believe the word is accomplice.”

Catherine’s tone hardened. “I’ll have her ready.”

“Six PM, there’s a cocktail reception at 7:00 PM, and the symphony begins at 8:00 PM. Eric will be driving us in the limousine.”

“Anton, I’ll prepare her, but you must be sure she—”

“Do you doubt my control?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Her tone changed. “Mr. Rawlings, she’ll be ready.”

He placed his cell phone back in his pocket and once again concentrated on the report before him.

Anthony looked at his watch—5:52 PM—as he stood near the front door and replied to the text message that had just come across the screen of his iPhone. Eric was in front of the house with the limousine. Just as Anthony was about to hit SEND, he heard a cough from the top of the stairs. Looking up, he saw Catherine whisper something into Claire’s ear, just before Claire began to descend. He scanned her figure from head to toe. Anthony liked her hair style. It was up, with curls hanging down, accentuating her slender neck. The dress she wore looked like it had been made especially for her petite frame. He also saw her heels peeking out from the bottom of her skirt with each step. She definitely looked the part—a far cry from the woman in jeans and tennis shoes at the Red Wing, the one he’d seen a few months ago.

He had a fleeting thought about Claire’s public behavior; however, as he watched his acquisition gracefully approach, his concern evaporated into an aura that had enveloped the foyer. It felt nothing like the women who usually accompanied him. They had a confidence—no, arrogance—that surrounded them like a cloud of perfume. Claire’s semblance was different. She had to know how beautiful she looked, yet he saw the question in her eyes. He’d seen it before. Claire wasn’t contemplating her escape; she was seeking his approval.

A split second before his words of approval left his lips, he saw Catherine. After their discussion earlier, he questioned whether she would do her part to make this happen. Anthony turned from Claire and with a satisfied grin, bowed toward Catherine. “My dear Catherine, you’ve outdone yourself. You’re an artist.”

He saw the smirk in her eyes. Oh, if they were alone, he was sure Catherine would let him know exactly what she’d done to prepare Claire, not to mention what she thought of this outing; instead, she replied, “Mr. Rawlings, an artist is only as good as her canvas. You’re accompanying a beautiful canvas.”

“Or, should we say,” he smirked, “she’s accompanying me?” Turning back to Claire, he said, “We must go; Eric’s waiting.”

Claire didn’t respond other than to nod. When Anthony offered his arm, she dutifully placed her small hand appropriately and walked with him to the limousine. Eric stood ready and opened their door. As they neared, Claire hesitated. What was she thinking? Many times her feelings were transparent; however, when he looked down at her, dressed, styled, and painted to perfection, he found it intriguing that he couldn’t read her thoughts. Anthony motioned toward the open door, and once again, Claire nodded and eased herself inside.

After the car began moving, Anthony asked, “Have you ever ridden in a limousine before?” He knew the truth; she’d been in a limousine in Atlanta, as well as in Iowa. Anthony doubted she remembered either of those times—just as well.

“No, I haven’t.” She turned back toward him. “Anthony?”

Before she could continue, his phone vibrated. He held up a finger and she pressed her lips together. The call was from Tom, a friend as well as one of his legal staff. Before long, Anthony was in a full-out discussion about a company in Rhode Island. Thankfully, he could access some of the documents from his iPad. It wasn’t until he sensed the car slow and turn, that he even realized how close they were or how much time had passed. If this had been a date, he never would have gotten so much accomplished. Smiling at his productivity, Anthony turned off his iPad, put his phone away, and turned toward Claire. “Has Catherine prepared your behavior for this evening as well as she has your appearance?”

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.

In the limousine, he watched as she fidgeted near the window. The confidence from the theater seemed to dissipate into the cool evening air. Before he could give it much more thought, she turned toward him. Her voice filled the quiet cabin. “That was a magnificent evening. Thank you, again.”

Her sudden surge of straightforwardness caught him by surprise. “Do you really think so?”

“I do. The music was performed beautifully, and you were right about the conductor.” After a pause, she asked, “Did I do all right?”

“What do you think?” he taunted.

After a moment, she replied, “I think I did well. I listened to Catherine, and to you, and d-did well.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the trepidation in her voice; however, if she were to accompany him on future outings, positive reinforcement was in order. He was prepared. Anthony reached into his briefcase and found the black velvet box. He didn’t know that Claire would be accompanying him until this afternoon and didn’t have time to buy anything; then he remembered the old necklace he’d found in her apartment. While he was home, he put it in his briefcase in anticipation of just such an occasion.

Extending the box toward her, he softened his tone. “I believe you did well. I’ve told you that every action has a consequence. That can be negative—as we’ve seen—or positive. I believe that tonight you earned a positive consequence.”

“Anthony, I don’t need a gift. I wanted to make you proud. If I did that, then I’m happy and that’s enough.”

“It’s a gift, or at least I believe it was; however, it’s not new.” He continued to hold the box in her direction. Her tentative response caused his cheeks to rise. She was so unlike the other women he’d dated. Curiously, he asked, “Will it always be this difficult to get you to open gifts?”

She took the box. “You have my curiosity piqued. What are you giving me that’s old?”

Before he could answer, she lifted the lid. When she looked up, tears silently glided down her cheeks. He’d seen her cry before—this was different. He listened as she choked back her emotion. “H-how did you … where did you get this? It was my grandmother’s.”

“It was in your apartment in Atlanta when it was cleaned out. I thought you might want to have it. Do you?” He watched as Claire internalized his words. In essence, he’d just told her that her old life was now cleaned out, disposed of—gone. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t informed her, but now it was confirmed. Anthony waited for her to respond.

“Oh, yes, I do!”

Her concentration on the necklace and acceptance of her apartment’s fate satisfied him more than he’d expected. It confirmed that the old Claire Nichols was ceasing to exist, and with each passing day, the woman before him was new and created solely for his liking. His cheeks rose with the unexpected wave of relief. Eagerly, he asked, “Would you like me to help you put it on?”

Claire nodded and turned away as he draped the delicate chain around her neck. Past experience confirmed that the woman he initially acquired from Atlanta would’ve dwelled on her loss and become emotionally distraught. Claire’s steadily improving behavior filled Anthony with pride. He’d done this! There wasn’t a challenge that Anthony Rawlings couldn’t overcome. Perhaps some of the credit should go to Catherine. Either way, he was enjoying the benefits of their dedication to their project.

As he fastened the clasp and the tips of his fingers touched her warm skin, Anthony remembered why he liked Claire’s hair styled up. He leaned nearer to taste her exposed neck, but before his lips contacted her skin, she bent forward and pulled a small compact from her purse. A reprimand was on the tip of his tongue, when he realized that she hadn’t moved away from him. She was still too wrapped up in the necklace to sense his intentions.

Her gaze flitted from the small mirror to him, as she said, “Anthony, there isn’t a necklace you could’ve bought that would mean more to me than this one.”

He’d seen many emotions in her emerald eyes, but what he saw at that moment gave him an unexplained sense of contentment. Anthony’s thumb gently brushed her cheek, confirming that her tears from earlier were dry, unexpectedly her lids fluttered, and she moved toward his touch. Anthony knew that many times her words were false. He didn’t consider it deception, but rather obedience. She said what she was expected to say and did what she was expected to do. There were also times when her expression failed to hide her trepidation, and he saw her true exposed reaction. This moment was different—real, not contrived—but honestly pleasant. He’d planned to give her the necklace as a reward, if she performed well; however, what he said next hadn’t been planned. “People who know me well, and they’re numbered, call me Tony. You may call me Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” she replied. “This has been an amazing night. How can I ever thank you?”

He pulled her close, feeling the pressure of her breasts against his chest. Turning off the riding lights, he smiled a devilish grin. “I have a few ideas.”

Claire’s glance darted toward the dark glass partition separating the back from the front of the car.

Tony laughed. “I promise we’re alone; Eric can’t see or hear us.” He leaned toward her. She instinctively reached for his neck and settled onto the long leather seat. As he hovered mere inches above, he watched her cheeks flush, and his erection came to life. Over the past few months, Claire had learned to respond to Tony’s commands—both verbal and otherwise. There‘d been times when she’d hesitated. It was on those occasions that she earned the punishment she deserved. Turning his tone more serious, he raised a brow and demanded, “Now, show me that you’ve followed my rules. I want to see.”

Claire’s immediate response fortified the pride of his accomplishment. She maintained their gaze as her small hand fumbled for the hem of her dress. “I can’t reach—”

Tony wouldn’t let her finish—he couldn’t. He needed to taste her. Entwining his fingers in her loose ringlets of hair, he tilted her lips upward and heard a small moan before his mouth seized hers. Unable to soften his approach, he took what was his. It wasn’t enough—he wanted more. When his tongue probed, her lips parted, allowing him to enter her warmth. Tony savored her sweetness as her arms once again encircled his neck. With his other hand, he reached for the hem of her dress and the cabin filled with her whimpers of anticipation.

He slowly lifted the beaded material and teasingly brushed her inner thigh. “Open your legs for me,” he commanded.

She obeyed and he continued to caress her soft skin. When her breathing labored and he neared his destination, Tony stopped. Releasing her hair, he sat up and gazed down at her blushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, and nearly exposed body. Grinning, he murmured, “You were amazing tonight.”

Softly, she replied, “Thank you.”

Taking her in, he reminded her. “But the night isn’t over.” His playful tone vanished. “Now, lift your dress and let me see if you have truly behaved.”

Slowly reaching for the length of material, Claire kept her eyes fixed on his. As the material rose, she replied, “I promise, Tony. I’ve followed your rules.”

He couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked—offering herself to him. That, combined with the sound of her calling him by his personal name, was enough to release the painful tightness in his slacks. It seemed unreal that he could be on the verge of exploding, and she’d yet to touch him. Surprisingly, at that moment, that wasn’t what he wanted. He yearned for something else, and they both knew his desires came first.

Taking off his jacket and then his tie, Tony continued to devour Claire with his intensifying gaze. He couldn’t look away as she silently watched his every move. When he slowly and deliberately moved to his knees and grinned, he sensed her relief. It intoxicated him that something as insignificant as a change in his facial expression could influence her world. Beckoned by her scent, his sultry tone returned. “Yes, I would say you have been a very good girl.”

He lifted each one of her soft, smooth calves, savoring their shape while in the high heels, and rested them on his broad shoulders. With his intentions clear, Claire tipped her head back against the leather seat. Soon, her moans from earlier returned and grew louder. When her fingers gripped the leather seat, and he knew that she was about there, he stopped. It was his private game, but she was learning the rules.

“Tell me,” he commanded.

“Anth—Tony, please.”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, I belong to you.” She fidgeted against the leather.

“Because,” he prompted.

“You own me.”

“Until?” He taunted her, teasing, kissing, and suckling her inner thigh.

“Please!” She took in a deep breath. “Until you decide.”

“Say it.”

“You own me until you decide.”

“Good girl. Perhaps—” he reached for her skirt, bunched around her waist.

“Please,” she begged, holding tightly to the material. “Please, don’t stop.”

Grinning and satisfied, Tony resumed his quest. Oh, there were times he’d leave her like this—unsatisfied—and make her switch places. It would be then that she would fulfill her duty. Of course, she didn’t have the option to stop or taunt. Other times, he’d take the conversation further, making her tell him the amount of money he’d spent to secure her financial freedom.

Not tonight. Tonight Tony wanted to experience the benefits of her positive consequence. It didn’t take long before he did.