Consequences(23)

Claire had five hours to prove she was in control of her life—if not to him, then at least to herself. She walked into her closet and, like a general selecting soldiers, perused the racks and shelves selecting an outfit that would bolster her self-confidence. She found it—a black dress with a long flowing skirt. The idea of being near him in a dress made her queasy, but she liked the boldness.

With each flash of the mascara, or zip of the flowing black satin dress, she reviewed her decision. Escape from this room was not possible. The only way to get out of here was to concede to whatever he demanded and find another path. Looking at herself in the mirror, Claire straightened her neck, righted her shoulders, and confirmed her mission. She had tried physically fighting. It had been counterproductive and only seemed to intensify Anthony’s resolve. She needed to yield—temporarily—to his demands in order to access a means of exodus. Completing her hairstyle, she dissected her plan. It may have seemed like surrender, but her gut told her that resigning to him, with a straight face and experiencing the effects of her verbalization, took more control than the pleas, accusations, and fighting of two weeks earlier.

At 8:45 PM Claire buckled the Jimmy Choo sandals and stood before the mirror. She looked the part; she just needed to perform it. With each tick of the clock her nerves wreaked havoc with her stomach. The meal she’d consumed hours ago threatened to revolt.

Damn him! She knew this was his plan, and she refused to give him the gratification. Reaching for her current novel by the bed, she went to the overstuffed chair and sat. Although she read the words, the text made no sense. She couldn’t concentrate as her chest thumped with a too rapid heartbeat and her mouth tasted like cotton. Getting up, Claire retrieved a bottle of water. While her sweaty palms made opening the cap difficult, the water helped her dry mouth—until it hit her stomach. Fearing she would need to run for the bathroom, she remembered to breathe—deep cleansing breaths. Miraculously, her nerves began to calm as the flames of the fire warmed and she attempted to concentrate on the words of her book.

At 9:58 PM, preceded by the beep, her suite door opened. Anthony walked in like he’d been there earlier that day—not two weeks ago. Dressed in a dark gray double-breasted silk suit, he appeared heavier than she remembered; maybe not heavy—massive, broad-chested. She wasn’t sure of his height, but guessed about six four which would make him an entire twelve inches taller than she. His age showed in fine lines around his dark eyes. Claire estimated him to be in his late thirties.

“Good evening, Claire.” His voice rumbled through the suite.

The heat from the fireplace helped to ward off trembling. Claire stood and nodded. “Good evening, Anthony.” Taking command, she suggested, “Shall we sit?”

Anthony sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. Claire sat on the edge of the chair and looked directly into his eyes. She wouldn’t show fear, although his dark eyes were the scariest things she’d ever seen.

“Do you think you are ready to continue with our agreement? Or do you need some more time alone to consider the situation?”

“After consulting my attorney, I feel I have no choice but to continue with our agreement.”

Anthony’s eyes darkened at the mention of a consultation. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”

Keeping her smile intact, she said, “I’ve had a lot of time to think, joviality has sustained me.”

“I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”