Consequences(58)

“Please!” she pleaded. Her head hurt and stomach twisted in knots. She couldn’t stand this. She tried desperately to make it stop. “Please…you’re leaving tomorrow. Wouldn’t you rather spend tonight making movies instead of watching?”

Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose ran from crying.

Tony smirked at her desperation. His tone dripped with ruthlessness, “Maybe we should watch some more—find out where you need improvement.”

“I’ll do anything you say—anything you want me to do differently—just tell me. Just please don’t make me watch.” Claire was now on the floor in front of Tony, kneeling, crying. She hated that she’d been reduced to begging, but these videos ruined her whole compartmentalization. How could she keep these awful memories hidden if she was forced to watch them?

His dark eyes pierced her soul. His voice was cold as ice, “You will do whatever I say—even if it is to watch—but…”—he hesitated to add emphasis—” I don’t want to spend my last night, for over a week, here with you in this condition.” He stood, causing her to fall back onto the floor. “I’ll be in your suite in a few minutes.”

Claire stood.

Tony continued, “Go up and get ready. Wash your face! You look like hell, and as far as attire…I’m thinking some new lingerie.”

When she started to leave the theater, Tony gripped her arm. She stopped, met his gaze, and listened to his steely tone, “Claire, what do you say?”

She looked at him as they stood silently for a moment, and Claire’s confused mind spun. She couldn’t fathom what he wanted. When it hit her, fire ignited in her moist eyes. She swallowed her protest and managed to articulate, “Thank you, Tony.”

Loosening his grip he responded, “You may demonstrate your gratitude when I get upstairs.”

Claire continued to stand—afraid to move. Her mind was too garbled. She didn’t know what to do or say—all she could do was pray that she would never see another of those videos. As if sensing her bewilderment, Tony remained in control of her motion. “You may go to your suite now.”


It was after sunrise when Claire felt Tony get out of her bed. She listened as he picked up his clothes, and she knew he was dressing. Next, she heard him open a drawer and rifle through it. She opened her eyes and in the dim light saw him writing a note. When he turned to look at her, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Doing her best to keep her breathing steady, she reminded herself, he wouldn’t be back for over a week.

At that moment in time, she detested everything about Anthony Rawlings.





Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.



—Mason Cooley





Chapter Twelve


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Nathaniel didn’t mind the commute between New York and New Jersey, especially when he drove the winding drive toward his home. Each time the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick came into view, he momentarily remembered the two-room apartment he’d shared with his wife. For a young soldier recently home from fighting the Japs, it was ample. Being a soldier and a veteran were the only attributes Sharron’s family saw in him. They were the only reasons they allowed their daughter to marry Nathaniel Rawls.

Today, as he stepped into the marble entry, he wished her high-and-mighty father could see his daughter now. Oh yes, Nathaniel Rawls did make something out of himself, and now, with Clawson’s ideas, there was so much more to be made. If his father-in-law were still alive he would gladly shove this up his—