Tony's eyes opened wide before he narrowed them questioningly. "You did tell her that she could stay in any of the rooms, didn't you?"
"I did. She was the one who asked about her old suite."
He exhaled, as some of the pent-up tension eased from his taut shoulders. That was a good sign, he hoped. He'd left her a note in her suite, as well as in two other rooms, but he was happy with her choice. Catherine went on. "She was upset when she arrived, not about anything in particular. I believe that returning was emotionally overwhelming."
"And you?" he prompted.
"Did what I do." Catherine's gray eyes dulled. "You know me-the kind housekeeper."
Tony shook his head. "Stop it. She doesn't think of you that way. I believe she came here as much for you as she did me." Suddenly, that truth bothered Tony. He didn't want to share.
Catherine shrugged. "We spoke for a little while, she ate, and now she's resting. It was a long trip."
Tony inhaled deeply. "Ate? We're eating at the Bronsons."
"It was just a snack and she seemed... shaky."
"Shaky? Is that why she's resting? I want to see her."
"I can get her, but I suggest that you let her rest. Traveling can be tiring. You don't need to be to your dinner for almost two hours." Catherine's head cocked to the side. "You know, if you hadn't turned off the cameras, we'd know for sure if she were sleeping."
"I know. I also know that she hated those cameras. This is better." He turned on his computer and began to search the end of day stock-market analysis.
"She asked about the delivery." Catherine's statement caused the business at hand to disappear.
"Did you tell her?"
"No," she answered indignantly. "You said you didn't want her to know."
"I said that if you tell her, you're opening yourself up to her questions and suspicions. If you tell her, you might as well be willing to lay it all out. If you're not willing to do that-don't tell her." He lowered his tone. "At least I'm giving you the option."
Catherine looked away.
When she didn't look back, Tony asked, "What else happened? Is she all right?"
"Yes, of course. Why?"
"I get the feeling you're holding something back."
Her lips smiled. "I think you're looking for any excuse to get you upstairs to do what you want to do."
"I want her to be comfortable. If that means resting, then she can rest."
Catherine stood. "Very well, however, since you're not eating here this evening, I'll be leaving the estate in a short time. If she's not awake, you'll need to wake her."
"Where are you going?"
"Some things are none of your business."
He shrugged. "Where's Cindy?"
"An-thon-y," she said, each syllable enunciated. "Go to her suite. You'll do the right thing."
Catherine slipped from the office leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. All day long he'd anticipated this evening-coming home, not to an empty house, but to the place where Claire belonged. He reached into the drawer and found his new reminder below his old key ring; Tony pulled out the envelope. It wasn't special in any way; to the casual onlooker, or even the curious snoop, it was only an envelope, but it was so much more. When Tony's thoughts would begin to blur and red would slip inconspicuously into his vision, he'd remember this envelope.
Turning it in his hands, Tony heard Nathaniel's words from his dream. Although he'd only had the dream once, every second of it had replayed in his mind so many times that he'd sometimes forget that it hadn't really happened. Peering into the depths of the envelope, for the millionth time, Tony vowed to fill it. He wouldn't allow it to stay empty, not because Nathaniel had said he failed, but because he'd succeeded. Tony had fulfilled his obligation: the Nichols family had suffered. Now, he wanted to exceed Nathaniel's wishes just as he'd done financially. His grandfather had told him that he would survive. Tony had done more than survive: for a short time, he'd had everything.
A memory resurfaced, not of a nightmare, but a memory of one of Tony's last visits to Camp Gabriels, the prison where Nathaniel died. There were times when his grandfather would repeat the same thought over and over; however, on occasion he'd share a nugget of truth. That happened on the day in Tony's memory, yet Tony didn't realize the treasure until almost twenty-five years later: Tony stood as Nathaniel ranted on and on, lost in a tirade about Tony's father, Sherman Nichols, and Jonathon Burke. Then without warning, Nathaniel turned his dark gaze on his grandson, and in his deep, menacing voice asked, "You know what?"
"No, sir," Anton replied.
"You can't lose everything until you have everything to lose. I had everything, and now look at me!"
It all made sense: after all of these years, Tony knew the truth. With Claire gone, his envelope was empty. In his dream, Nathaniel said that Tony received what he gave-and Tony finally conceded that his grandfather was right. Tony had given Claire a life with everything and then had taken it away-for the sake of the vendetta. In that process, he'd lost everything-everything he never realized he wanted. After she was gone, he still had the money, the estate, and the prestige, yet his life was as empty as the envelope in his hand. The vengeance had not only punished the people on their list, but it had punished him, taken away his everything.
It wasn't until Claire was out of prison that Tony began to see. He'd been blinded by her actions and hadn't realized how much he'd lost. Perhaps it was true and he was a selfish bastard, but seeing her beginning a new life, one without him, one with another man, cleared away the fog of Nathaniel's vendetta.
Tony couldn't make the past go away-if he could he would-however, he could spend forever showing Claire that he wanted her in his life, that without her, his world was empty. By allowing the vendetta to take away the only true happiness Tony had ever known, he'd failed his grandfather's legacy. The Rawls name may be gone, but never had Nathaniel wished for an empty envelope-that was how Tony had failed.
Tony wasn't sure how he would do it, or if it could be done, but he knew the woman asleep upstairs was his life, happiness, and future. In order to fill his void and honor his grandfather, he needed to make her see that, too. He needed to do more than that; he needed to control the one thing that could control him. Tony needed to control the red.
He had done it before, while Claire was in prison, and from high school until his acquisition of Claire. When Tony was at Blair Academy, before he turned off the red, he remembered life as highs and lows. After Nathaniel told him that fighting was unacceptable, he turned it off and everything was even. If a bump occurred, Tony eliminated it. If a company didn't perform, he sold it. If the bottom line was red, Tony cut the overhead. Everything was black and white-no red.
That all changed when he brought Claire into his life. Tony tried to believe she was nothing more than an acquisition, someone who could be eliminated, but that wasn't true. She filled his world with color. Oh, there was red-too much red-but there was also blue, yellow, and most vividly, green. She made him see the sky, trees, and lakes. With her, he saw the snow on the mountains and surf at the shore. Life was no longer a series of numbers and ledgers.
He didn't recognize any of that when they were together. He'd been too consumed with controlling her. It wasn't until after she was gone that he comprehended the truth.
To win her back, Tony knew he had to narrow his color spectrum. He wanted the highs, and after a year and a half of black and white, Tony even welcomed the lows. It was the red he needed to eliminate. The way he saw it, he'd built a billion-dollar industry from nothing; removing red from his world couldn't be that difficult. One factor that he needed to depend upon was Claire. Could he ever truly trust her again? After all, she'd been the one to leave him. Would she once again follow his rules? Perhaps together, they could remove the red.
Placing the envelope back in the drawer, Tony checked the time-almost 6:00 PM. They needed to be at Tim's in an hour and a half. Refocusing on his computer, Tony reviewed the end-of-day numbers. When he was done, he planned to shower, and if Claire weren't awake, he'd go to her suite-her suite-and wake her. His lips turned upward, liking the sound of calling it her suite. It didn't matter if the walls were painted a different color. It would always be her suite.
Tony reached for the knob of Claire's door. As he grasped it, he remembered her requirements: she wanted a door with a lock from the inside. Straightening his shoulders, he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. As his knuckles rapped the hard wood and he waited for a response, Tony recalled the only other time he'd ever knocked upon her door was the night of their wedding. After a moment, he knocked again. When she didn't answer, he slowly moved the lever, opened the door, and peered around the barrier. His breath caught in his lungs as he saw Claire; she was asleep in the king-sized bed. With all his might, Tony wanted to reconnect the electronic lock and keep Claire there forever.
Memories of them in that bed swirled through his consciousness as he moved closer. With each step, he said her name, "Claire." He didn't want to give her the wrong impression, although that impression was paramount in his mind. She was a vision of peacefulness. "Claire-Claire, you need to wake. We're supposed to be at Tim and Sue's in an hour." Approaching the bed, her serene expression transfixed him. Hoping not to startle her, he spoke louder, "Claire? Claire?" Partially out of necessity, but more out of desire, Tony touched her exposed shoulder. "Claire?"
She began to stir. His fingers purposely grazed the light blue satin bra strap. The allure of moving the covers and discovering the remainder of her attire was almost irresistible. Tony wondered if she could possibly be wearing matching light blue panties.
Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she sat up and pulled the blankets around her body. "Tony! What are you doing in here? You promised!"
He chuckled at her modesty. "I promised a lock, but the door wasn't locked. I knocked multiple times. You must have been very tired."
The alarm that was evident only moments ago dissipated into her beautiful pools of emerald. Even her tone eased. "I think I was. I have that jittery, just-awakened feeling." Her long brown hair fell in waves around her beautiful face as she sighed and laid her head back upon the pillow. "What time is it?"
"Six-thirty, and we need to be at Tim and Sue's in an hour." As if his feet were blocks of concrete, he stood statuesque, transfixed by her presence.
"Well," she quipped, "if you're going to stand there, then go find me a robe so that I can get ready."
Slowly, willing his feet to move, Tony walked to her dressing room. Since she'd refused his credit card, he asked his personal shopper to supply a wardrobe for her to access in Iowa. Turning on the light, he saw a long pink robe. No doubt, that was what she had in mind; however, Tony knew there were other items of lingerie. If he found the right one, he might learn the answer to his burning blue-panties question.
When he emerged, he held up a transparent, black-silk negligee robe. It was a robe, he mused. When his eyes met hers, her eyebrows rose, lips pursed tight, and head shook from side to side. With a feigned pout, he re-entered the dressing room and returned again with the long pink robe.
"That's better," she bantered. "Now, if you don't mind?"
Tony gallantly turned away, though every muscle in his body wanted to do a full three-sixty. "Don't you think this is a bit ridiculous?" he asked. "We were married."
"No, I don't." After a moment, she added, "You may turn around now."
When he did, she was the only thing he could see. Her hair was slightly tousled, her cheeks blushed, and her eyes sparkled with a glow that could mesmerize him for hours. It was all he could do to remember his mission. Blinking twice, he forced himself to remain on task. "I thought we could talk about tonight."
"Not now. I need to get ready. We can talk in the car. If you leave me alone, then I'll be ready in thirty minutes."
Tony silently laughed at her sense of empowerment. Mockingly, he bowed, blew her a kiss, and left the room. Once the door closed completely, he allowed the small rumble of his amusement to come to life.
Leaning against one of the grand doors, Tony waited. It had been almost thirty minutes since he'd left Claire's suite before he looked up to see her descending the main staircase. He remained still as he scanned her from head to toe. As much as he appreciated appearance and perfection, there was something about the recently-awakened Claire that he longed to see again. Once she reached the marble floor, he straightened and said, "You look amazing-as usual. Is that an outfit you brought or one from the closet?"
"One I brought. The closet seems silly. I'm leaving in three days."
"You refused to take a credit card, so I hired someone to shop for you." He shrugged. "You may decide to wear some of those clothes to our other public functions."
Claire came to a stop and looked up defiantly. "Tony, I'm not falling into that same trap. I don't want the media accusing me of reconciling with you for your money."
He hadn't thought of that. It wasn't what he was trying to do; nevertheless, he understood her trepidation. Attempting to reassure her, he said, "Tonight there won't be media, just friends."
Claire exhaled and her shoulders slumped.
"What's the matter?"
"Are you sure they want me there? I would rather face the media than your friends, considering what they think I did."
Tony grasped her hand. "I promise. I've spoken to everyone, most in person. I spoke to Mary Ann and Eli on the phone."
"And...?"
"And they understand. I was distraught, but we're reconciling."
Tony placed his arm around her waist as she closed her eyes and exhaled.
"It will be all right. This is supposed to make tomorrow and the wedding easier." As he led her outside, he asked, "You do want to be at the wedding, don't you?"
"I do," she said, as her eyes widened. Tony followed her gaze. He couldn't blame her reaction: she was seeing his newest car for the first time. It was a Lexus LFA. There was no question, that other than Claire, cars were his passion. This little two-seat super car with a V-40 valve V-10 was no exception. He opened the door and she lowered herself into the bucket seat. When he got in and grinned, Claire said, "This is a very nice car. Would you mind not going too fast?"
"It can do zero to sixty in three point six seconds."
"I believe you, but do you remember my reaction to the bacon the other day?"
He did and Catherine had said she was shaky. "Yes." He frowned. "Are you still not well?"
"I'm not back to myself."
"Maybe you should see a doctor."
"I have an appointment in a few weeks."
After they began the drive, Tony looked to his right. Claire had her head laid back and eyes closed. Sick or not, they had things they needed to sort through before they arrived at the Bronsons'. Turning down the radio, he said, "We need to discuss your behavior for tonight."
Claire opened her eyes and looked in his direction. "Tony, I wouldn't be here-of my own free will-if I didn't completely comprehend my behavior. Don't patronize me. I've done this dance before."
"Are you implying that when you were with my friends in the past, it was a performance?"
"No. I'm saying that there were times I wasn't happy with you, but no one knew."
Looking her way, he asked, "You aren't happy with me?"
Her petite hand reached over and covered his. "Tony, we're doing what you want; it's a performance. I can't say I don't want it to be real, but for now, it isn't. Let's not add unnecessary layers to this charade."
As he listened to her words, something gave him hope. "So there's a part of you-I'll settle for a small part-that wants what we're about to do to be real?"
She exhaled. "Yes, Tony, a small part of me wants us to be real."
Tony relaxed against the leather interior and enjoyed the bends and curves of the country roads. He would've loved to have pushed the gas pedal harder and watched the speedometer climb. It gave him an undeniable rush; however, for now, he'd take the adrenaline that came from the woman in the seat beside him. As they conversed about nothing, he contemplated his friends. Tony wanted the night to go well, for Claire. Of course, he'd laid himself on the line for this, too. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure how Sue would react when they arrived. Looking to his right, he wondered if Sue was as good at hiding her true emotions as Claire. When they neared Tim and Sue's home, he slowed the car and said, "Perhaps we should review the rules."
Once again, Claire closed her eyes, laid her head back, and exhaled. Her next sentence came with no emotion. "Maybe I could save us some time and summarize? Do as you say, no public failure, and don't divulge private information."
"Are you summarizing or mocking?"
"For the sake of argument, I'll call it summarizing." He didn't dare look her way; he could hear the sparks of fire crackling below the surface. Claire continued, "As I said earlier, I've done this before. Perhaps you've forgotten, but I'm perfectly capable of doing as you wish."
"No, Claire, I haven't forgotten your abilities. I just need confirmation that we're on the same page as we enter the Bronsons' home."
"Tell me the number, and I'll turn right to it."
With the car now stopped along the shoulder of the country road, Tony reached for Claire's chin and turned her glaring green eyes toward him. In the split second before he spoke, he remembered the envelope. Clenching his jaw, he searched desperately for his calmest tone. The end result slowed his words. "I believe I'm tiring of the sexy, bold, and cheeky."
"Then stop this charade."
He maintained his hold and reminded himself again. Exhaling, he asked, "May I please have reticent and genteel while in the presence of others?"
The green fire ebbed. With a faux Georgia accent, she responded, "Why, Mr. Rawlings, your wish is my command."
As she mocked him with her fluttering lashes, his heart raced, and the temperature inside the car rose exponentially, gluing Tony's hand to her chin. He couldn't let go and release that green stare if he tried. Unconsciously, he leaned toward her and commanded, "Kiss me."
He hadn't meant to say it with such need, but it was true. He needed a release, and lashing out wouldn't get him the results he desired. Thankfully, she didn't protest. Obediently, her eyes closed, lips parted, and their mouths united. Fire ignited as their hands sought what only the other possessed. If it weren't for the damn seatbelts, Tony would have forgotten that they were on the side of the road, only a mile from his vice president's home. When reality struck, he leaned back and confessed, "If we weren't expected at the Bronsons' any minute, I'd like to put more effort into exploring the wish-and-command possibilities."
To his surprise, Claire leaned her head against the seat and laughed. Seeing her genuine smile, the threat of red, the tension, and the nervous energy slipped away. It wasn't until she said, "I'm nervous to see all of them again," that he realized how truly difficult this was on her. He'd tried to pave the way, but he'd also been the one to set up the roadblocks.
One more time, he reached for her chin, but without the earlier tension. Tony wanted nothing more than to help. "There may be questions-personal questions. This isn't the press. They're people who know me-know us-and they're going to want to know what happened."
Claire nodded.