Authors: Aleatha Romig
She ignored his implication and went on with
her request, “I want a promise -- from you.”
“
What promise do you want
from me?”
“
I want a guarantee the
people in my life, the associates, and friends I’ve acquired are
not in harm’s way.”
“
My Claire, you give me
too much credit. I’m a businessman. I don’t have the ability to
cause harm to anyone much less those associated with
you.”
This time Claire straightened, “Simon,
John... do these names mean anything to you? How about my parents,
your parents? Are there more? I can’t seem to process right
now.”
“
I do not take
responsibility for that entire list. And explain exactly what
you’re requesting.”
“
Actually, I don’t believe
I’m
requesting
anything. I’m saying, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if anything
happens to me, my friends or associates, my story and the truth
behind our relationship will be public. I will continue to work on
the articles and stop production before everything is
public.
However
,
if anything happens to me or my friends, everything will be public
knowledge. You’re welcome to do damage control but only be after
the initial public response has been made and broadcast globally.
As you know, once a perception is set, it’s difficult to
change.”
Tony’s grip on the stem of the wine glass
intensified as he changed the subject, “I don’t want you with
anyone else. You’re mine and have been for a very long time.”
Although his words sent a shiver down her
spine, Claire managed to respond incredulously, “That isn’t your
choice. You sent me away!”
“
No. You left,
you
drove out of our
garage.” His words were stifled by his clenched jaws.
Claire stood, “Tony, I’m done with this
conversation. I’m tired; however, I have a few other demands.” She
didn’t wait for him to acknowledge, but continued, “John is out of
jail. I want his law license reinstated. You took it away, don’t
deny it. Now, bring it back. I will consider that proof of you
commitment to this agreement.”
“
I never liked
him.”
“
I’m pretty sure the
feeling is and always has been mutual. Nonetheless, he never
deserved what you did to him. By the way, do you know who sent me
the box?”
Tony stood, walked toward the door, but
stopped and faced her, “Yes,” his voice confident, “my dear, the
information isn’t known by many. My list of candidates was quite
limited. It didn’t take long to confirm my theory.”
She followed him toward the door. Looking up
at his face she asked, “Who?”
“
Good bye Claire, for now.
May I have your hand?”
She spied him suspiciously, “Why?”
He didn’t answer; instead he held out his
hand and waited. Reluctantly, she placed her right hand in his
upturned palm. Tony bowed and touched his lips to her knuckles.
While the warmth radiated up her arm, he turned her hand over.
“Close your eyes.”
Weakened by his strong yet benign command,
she obeyed.
“
Keep them shut,” he
whispered. She nodded as he reached into the pocket of his slacks,
brought out a white gold chain with a pearl upon a white gold cross
and placed it in her upward palm. Next, he closed her fingers
around the delicate necklace and squeezed her hand. “My sign of
commitment -- end this with Meredith.” He kissed her closed fingers
and opened the door.
By the time she saw her grandmother’s
necklace lying innocently in her hand, the scene blurred. Tears
overflowed her lids and cascaded down her cheeks. She turned to
Tony, but he was gone.
Claire’s trembling fingers fumbled with the
small clasp. With intense concentration she managed to put the
delicate chain around her neck and secure the fastening. Hastily,
she ran to the mirror and watched the small white gold cross with
the large pearl, move up and down upon her chest, accelerated by
her now rapid heartbeat.
With time, her eyes moved from the necklace
to her own face. The concentration and determination from before
were gone. Her cheeks were now blotchy and smeared with
mascara.
The stress of her reunion with Meredith --
the unexpected meeting with Tony -- complete with multiple
confrontations -- and now the reality of her grandmother’s necklace
sucked any remaining strength from her core. Claire collapsed onto
the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and fought the urge to cry. She
couldn’t stop the tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. But
the sobs that screamed for release from the confines of her chest
-- those she worked to contain.
Cradling the large soft pillow, now damp
with tears, Claire curled into the fetal position, and closed her
eyes. The combination of stress and emotion brought back her once
familiar aching head. In time, slumber surrounded her, isolated
her, and comforted her, creating a safe haven from the storms
continually confronting her life.
The sound of pounding
interrupted her peaceful bliss. She fought the disorientation
associated with waking suddenly in an unfamiliar place. Groggily
she saw the clock: 3:17 and forged toward the door of the suite,
toward the source of the pounding. Nearing the large double doors
she heard a key in the lock and
his
panicked voice, “Claire, Claire, are you in
there?”
O, shit, I didn’t call
Harry
.
Claire ran toward the doors. She’d used the
chain lock; their key couldn’t open the door completely. Just
before her destination, she glanced at the large mirror near the
entry, seeing her clothes from yesterday. The silk blouse, now
untucked, hung wrinkled above her rumpled linen slacks. Dark black
circles of melted mascara graced the underside of her swollen, red
eyes. She mindlessly tried to smooth her messed hair, as if that
would help her sad appearance. Quickly she called to the man on the
other side of the door and fumbled with the chain. “Please wait,
just a minute.” Sliding the chain and pulling the freed door
inward, Claire gasped at Harry, two men dressed in the hotel’s
signature burgundy, and a woman in a San Diego police uniform.
She stood in shock at the crowd before
her.
Any anger she’d heard in Harry’s voice
through the door evaporated as he took in her appearance. “Are you
all right?”
Before she could respond, he hugged her
shoulders, and pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t resist,
melting against his chest. Unconsciously, she inhaled his masculine
scent as her cheek felt the rhythmic beat of his rapidly pumping
heart.
“
Are you alone?” Claire
nodded. “Did he hurt you?” She shook her head.
Harry turned to the others, “You may go.”
Speaking to the woman in uniform he said, “We’ll let you know
tomorrow if there’re any charges.”
Harry’s unwavering embrace impeded her view,
yet Claire struggled to free herself and turn toward the police
officer, “There are no charges.” Looking up Harry’s soft blue eyes,
she continued, “I’m sorry. I just fell asleep.” Looking back to the
woman in blue, she said, “Thank you for your time. I’m sorry for
any misunderstanding, but there are no charges.” Harry pulled her
back into his embrace. She felt his heart slowing to a steady
rhythm. "I'm sorry I worried you.” She mumbled as they walked into
her suite.
The comforting tone of his voice dwindled
and agitation prevailed, “You said you’d call. You promised.”
She stepped back from his touch, suddenly
defensive. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I was upset
when Tony left. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just did.”
Harry reached out to Claire’s cheek and
wiped smeared mascara with his thumb. “You’ve been crying?” She
nodded. “What happened?”
She exhaled and recalled the evening in a
synopsis of the finer points. “We argued. He told me not to speak
to the media about our relationship. I told him to leave the people
I care about alone. Then, when he left, he gave me this.” Claire
pointed to her necklace.
“
He gave you a
necklace?”
“
It was my grandmother’s.
It’s the only thing he saved from my Atlanta apartment, my only
connection to my life before him.” She fought the sobs bubbling in
her chest and whispered, “It means more to me than anyone will ever
know.” Claire tried to compartmentalize the realization that lurked
in the back of her mind;
Tony knows how
much it means to me, he’s the only one who knows all about
me
.
Harry’s voice helped clear her thoughts, “If
it’s something you want, I’m glad he returned it. But, why
now?”
“
He said,
as a sign of commitment
.
In that box of information, there was a picture of it at an auction
of my things. I thought it was gone forever.”
Harry took Claire’s hand and led her toward
the sofa. On the table in the middle of the small grouping sat the
almost empty bottle of wine and two glasses.
When Harry’s grip tightened, Claire felt the
need to explain, “I ordered a bottle of wine before he showed up.
It came with two glasses, and I offered some to him.”
“
Very hospitable of
you.”
Claire wrenched her hand free at the
crispness of his tone and turn toward the bedroom. This time she
didn’t get the chance to dismiss him. He followed, seized her
shoulders, and turned her around. Peering down with the softest
blue eyes, Harry spoke, “I don’t care about the wine. I only care
that you’re safe. I called and called. You didn’t answer. His jet
left the private airstrip about 12:30. I panicked. After what you
told me about last time, I was scared to death you were on that
jet, involuntarily.”
“
I really am sorry. I
don’t know why I didn’t hear my phone.” She picked it up, from the
table near the wine. The screen’s message said eight missed calls,
as well as text messages and emails. She checked the ringer, it was
silenced. “I guess I never turned on the ringer after my meeting
with Meredith.” She looked up into his caring expression. “Thank
you for your concern. What’re you going to do about work
tomorrow?”
Harry smiled his first smile since arriving,
giving Claire the sensation of sunshine breaking through a cloudy
day. “I know the boss. I’d better text her and let her know you’re
all right, but she gave me the day off.”
Claire grinned, enjoying the sensation of
raised cheeks instead of ones dampened with tears, “I’ve always
heard it helps to have connections.”
Harry leaned down and kissed her nose. “I
like your smile much better than the sad face.”
“
Me too.” She tipped her
face up and allowed her lips to linger on his. “I know I look like
hell. I’m gonna go clean-up. Why don’t you text Amber?”
“
I think you’re beautiful,
but go do whatever you want. You need some more sleep and so do I.
I’ll text her.”
Wrestling butterflies and insecurities,
Claire opened the door from the bedroom to the living room as her
hand trembled slightly on the cool door knob. Scanning the suite,
she immediately noticed Harry’s bed. He had a sheet, blanket, and
pillow on the sofa. Continuing to search, she found the man she
sought. Irony struck when she realized he stood exactly where Tony
stood hours before, at the large window, staring out at the dark
San Diego skyline.
Worried that he’d reject what she had to
offer, she tried to push the doubts from her mind and press forward
-- barefooted across the light carpet. As she neared him, she saw
the glass in Harry’s hand; it wasn’t one of the stemmed wine
goblets from the table, but a small tumbler from the bar. He
swallowed the last of the wine.
Quietly she moved next to him and touched
his elbow. Lost in thought and startled by the contact, he turned
his gaze to her. She watched as his blue eyes devoured and his
expression morphed. She was only inches away, her face clean of
makeup and tears, her hair brushed, and wearing a silk, floor
length, light green nightgown.
She remained motionless, nervously awaiting
his response. When he didn’t speak, she tried for levity, “You’re
awfully tall to sleep on that sofa.”
Keeping his eyes fixed to hers, he replied,
“I was thinking the same thing as I put the blanket there.” His
hand gently went to Claire’s shoulder, teasing the delicate
spaghetti strap. She closed her eyes and exhaled, causing her
breasts to move as her lungs deflated.
In unison, they stepped forward. Her nipples
hardened as they brushed the silk nightgown and pushed against his
hard chest. They’d been close to this numerous times, always
stopping before making the ultimate leap.
Claire knew the consequence of her clothing
choice. She had shorts and t-shirts for her morning work-outs. If
she’d chosen that for her sleeping attire, she’d have sent an
entirely different message. But she didn’t. Her decision wasn’t
made hastily; she’d been debating it for weeks.
Harry’s voice resonated deeper than usual,
“You’ve had a long night. Don’t you want some sleep?”
Her body shivered with anticipation, and her
response came breathily, “Eventually.”
He pulled her petite frame to him. Within
his embrace, her body became liquid, molding against his. “Are you
sure? I didn’t come here for this.”
She nodded, smiling a shy tight lipped smile
and wrapping her arms around his muscular torso. “I know. You came
because you were worried about me.” It was Harry’s turn to nod. She
strained her tip toes to kiss his cheek, “And I appreciate your
concern.”
He lifted his brows, “So this is your way of
saying thank you?”