The cool air of the living room peeled back the layers of the red. Peering about the room, Tony's gaze settled upon the wet bar. By his standards, it wasn't impressive; nonetheless, it was present. He scanned the bottles and poured a small bottle of Maker's Mark into a tumbler. After swallowing the contents in one gulp, he called room service for more.
How much did he drink? Tony wasn't sure. How much time had passed? He didn't know that either. He did know that he'd made himself a bed on the sofa, and sooner or later he'd willingly lie down or unwillingly pass out. Either way, he was prepared. Food would've been a good idea, but somewhere between thoughts of Chester and those of Baldwin, Tony's appetite disappeared.
At one point he went back into the bedroom and found Claire sound asleep. She looked so peaceful. Her swollen cheek didn't detract from her beauty. He couldn't-no, wouldn't-wake her. What would he say if he did? Tony was pretty sure he'd used all his forgiveness credits. He didn't want to risk saying or doing anything that would push her away forever.
With sleep creeping closer, the sound of footsteps shattered the stillness of the suite. Closing his eyes, Tony clenched his jaw and exhaled. Why did she have to wake? Didn't Claire know the precarious situation she was about to enter? Didn't she understand how dangerous he could be?
Her voice echoed through the quiet suite, momentarily stilling his internal monologue. "Tony? Are you all right?"
Praying that she was a figment of his imagination, maybe one of his daydreams, he stared toward the voice. Perhaps if he tried, he could make her image disappear. After all, she always disappeared in his dreams just before he reached her. If she weren't real, Claire could sleep contently and never know the depths of his anguish. He scanned her frame. In their rush to leave her condominium, they hadn't brought any of her packed things; she was wearing one of his t-shirts. It swallowed her petite body and hung to her knees, yet he could still see her curves and her nipples as they reacted to the cool air. Damn, he'd never again look at one of his shirts the same.
"No," he finally answered.
"What's this?" She motioned toward the sofa. "Why aren't you in bed with me?"
All sense of inhibition disappeared with the last few fingers of bourbon. Claire was the one who started this conversation; she'd better be prepared to finish it. Throwing caution to the wind, Tony answered honestly, "I don't trust myself."
"I trust you-"
Interrupting, he explained, "I went in there and kissed you. You were sound asleep." Her warm smile melted the ice that over the past few hours had begun to build within his chest. He went on, "I watched you, saw your expression and your bruises." Her smile disappeared. With his impaired thinking he tried to remember what he'd just said. Oh, the bruises. Grasping her dangling hand, Tony scolded, "Stop that."
"What?"
"You're beautiful!"
She pulled her hand away. "I've seen me. Beautiful isn't a word I'd use."
Closing his eyes, Tony leaned back and rubbed his face. This wasn't going the way he wanted. Blinking his eyes, he focused on Claire. She wasn't a figment of his imagination; he'd just touched her hand. She was real and the bruises were real. Seeing them was like that damn knife again. It was being plunged deep into his heart. If only he'd made her stay in Iowa. This was entirely his fault. Like the ripping of a Band-Aid from his skin, Tony decided he needed to see the extent of her injuries. It would be better to just twist the damn knife and get it over with. "Take off my t-shirt."
"Excuse me?"
Although indignation rippled from her tone, Tony's focus was on her injuries. He stood and repeated, "Take off my shirt."
"Tony, I didn't bring any night clothes... I didn't think you'd-"
He should've heard her impending concern, but he didn't. "I don't give a damn about the shirt. I want to see you."
"See me?"
"I can see your face and your legs. I want to see what that bastard did to you."
The touch of her hands blurred his objective. She sounded so strong. "I'm fine, but I want you to come to bed-with me."
Tony tried to make her understand. "I planned to call for dinner; instead, I found the bar. It's been a rather stressful few days." When she moved toward him, he grasped her shoulders. "I should never have let you return to California." Shaking his head, he released her, and stepped backward. No, he needed to do this, needed to see. Straightening his stance, he commanded, "I believe I've said this more than once. Take off the damn t-shirt."
Claire reached for the hem and lifted the white shirt over her head. It was worse than he'd imagined. Her side was a purplish blue, and it extended from below her breast to her pelvic bone. She was wearing the panties he'd found with her clothes. Of course, she didn't carry an extra pair in her purse. As his eyes scanned her form, it finally registered. This wasn't about him. It wasn't about seeing what Chester had done. It was about Claire. At this moment she was trembling. Was it the air conditioning or was it-?
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Tony suddenly felt ill. It was him! She was trembling because of him. He fell to his knees and gently clutched Claire's hips. Beyond the bruises was the woman he'd hurt too many times. Beyond the bruises was his child. Wanting to make the trembling stop, he kissed her stomach and inhaled her clean warm scent. Tenderly, he brushed his lips over her wounds as his hands tightly held to her firm behind. While he continued to caress her skin, she reached for his head and wove her fingers through his hair. Beyond the sounds of their breathing, he heard her pleading voice, "Please, Tony, please, can we go to bed?"
He didn't stop-he couldn't. He couldn't take away her pain, but he could try to make it better. Her grip of his hair tightened just before her knees buckled and she knelt before him. As he fought to focus, the vision before him filled with emerald green. The knife no longer twisted. Hell, the world no longer turned. Tony could die as long as the last thing he saw was her eyes.
"You're mine." He hadn't planned on staking his claim, but once the words were out, he didn't try to retract them.
"Tony, bed... please?"
"I'm trying so hard. You have no idea of the restraint I'm enlisting." His thoughts went back to Baldwin. Had the two of them ever been like this? He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and fought to keep the red at bay. "Yet all I can think about are his hands on you."
"Tony, I'm fine. I'm all right. I'm with you."
"But you weren't. You were with him."
"He just wanted your money-"
Pulling her closer, his voice hardened, and he bathed her cheeks in warm, whiskey-scented breath. "I'm not talking about Chester!"
There, he'd said it. The truth was out. Without doubt, he was a selfish bastard, and the idea of Claire being with anyone else filled him with palpable anguish. Before Tony could look away, Claire's hands framed his face.
Her voice was a melody, contrasting the tirade in his head. "I wasn't with you. We weren't together."
The sound that came from his throat was unintentional. Truthfully, he'd tried to remain silent, yet Claire's words didn't make sense. They'd always been together.
She continued, "But now..." Her lips touched his. "Now, I want to be. Please, Tony."
Thoughts weren't forming with any kind of reasoning. The only thing Tony knew, with one hundred percent certainty, was that he wanted her. He wanted her more than he wanted air. If she wanted that too, all walls were down. Could she handle it? Could she handle him-the real him? It was now or never. No more pretenses, no holding back. This would be the real him, raw and uncensored. Claire would either run for her life or be his for eternity. It was too late to turn back.
As Tony's fingers seized her loose, damp hair, his mind told him to be gentle; however, gentle fell off of Tony's radar many shots ago. He couldn't turn down his desire if he wanted, and at this moment, he didn't want to. Pulling her head back, he exposed her slender neck. With little concern for his ferocity, his lips attacked the soft skin as a shocked moan escaped her lips. She'd asked for this, but was she ready? He needed to know. "Are you sure?"
He didn't pause or wait for her answer; instead, with one hand still entangled in her long, dark hair and the other pulling her closer, he continued to claim the woman before him.
Finally, her words rose above the internal mayhem. "I am."
All indecision was gone. The world was no longer red, yet it wasn't clear. Tony wasn't thinking anything through... everything was visceral and primal. Claire belonged to him.
Yes, she could be her own woman. It was true: Tony liked her independent spirit. However, in the grand scheme, that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that she was his-wholly and completely. As Tony gave in to his desires, he knew one of two things would occur. When the night was done, Claire would either be his like never before, or she'd leave him behind and life would cease to exist. Stopping now wasn't an option. Continuing his unrelenting claim, he held her tighter pulling her against his chest. Their hearts beat together as he wildly repossessed everything before him. His words come out like a growl, "You are mine."
When he released her hair, Claire's lips touched his neck and her hands caressed his shoulders. He couldn't contain the rumble from the back of his throat as he tried to think, tried to reason. Claire wasn't fighting-she was responding. Hell, she wasn't just responding. She was seducing him. Did she truly know what he was offering?
It was love and it was forever.
Tony loved Claire more than he could articulate; however, they both knew, his love wasn't all wine and roses. He was damaged. Chalk it up to a screwed-up childhood, blame it on tragedies-the cause was irrelevant. Tony was a sick son-of-a-bitch who had certain requirements. Claire needed to decide if she was willing to submit to his requirements and follow his rules. This was her last out, the last chance. If she didn't run now, he would never let her go.
Tugging once again on her hair, she gasped as he tipped her head until their eyes met. The gaze before him was stunning. In those eyes, he'd seen fear and love. Tonight, he saw passion, a heat that threatened any remnants of restraint he might still possess.
Laying it all on the table, he demanded, "Say it!"
Behind the passion and fire, her confusion surfaced. Tony explained, "Say you're mine and nobody else's."
Claire's confusion melted into green pools of desire. Her voice resonated above the sound of their breathing and the frantic beating of their hearts. "Yes, Tony, you are mine and nobody else's."
He stared. What did she just say? You are mine and nobody else's.
Tony tried to focus. It wasn't what he wanted; it wasn't what he expected, yet it was perfect. Claire was more than he deserved and a hell of a lot stronger than he'd ever known. No other woman could or would accept him. No one ever had. Not that he'd tried. The realization struck him with a tremendous force. Claire Nichols not only knew what she was getting herself into, but she wanted it. She wanted him.
Claire's acceptance fueled Tony's new strength and sobered his thoughts. His words began as a whisper and rose in volume. "Yes... mighty fine and sexy as hell." Claiming her lips, he added, "And mine!"
He stood, seized Claire's wrist, and pulled her up toward the bedroom. If they were taking this re-acquisition to the next level, they weren't doing it on a hotel room floor. They were doing it right. He laid her upon the bed, pausing only for a moment to take in her nearly naked form. The bruises no longer registered. Within seconds, his shirt was gone and his body covered hers. The weight of his chest flattened her breasts, as he relished the warmth of her soft skin. She wasn't protesting and he was beyond the ability to stop. Securing her hands above her head, he forcibly seized her mouth as their tongues united.
Once her breathing became labored, he moved to the end of the bed, began at her ankles and worked his way toward her injuries. As his lips inched upward, her scent beckoned his approach. Maybe he wasn't the only one to be here, but he sure as hell would do his best to make her forget anyone else. The lace panties didn't stand a chance as the delicate fabric ripped under his determined grip. Looking up, he suddenly worried that she'd be upset; instead of anger, Tony saw yearning and desire. Instantaneously, his cheeks rose and he flashed a devilish grin. They both seemed to understand that he had a mission and there would be casualties-the panties were the first to go.
Tony was exactly where he wanted to be. It was familiar territory and he knew all the secret passages. He knew what Claire liked and what made her feel good. He knew that when his teeth nipped her hard nipples, she would arch her back and pull him tightly to her breast. He knew when her nails clenched his shoulders and words became difficult for her to articulate, she was only moments away from the throes of ecstasy. He also knew that as the night progressed, she'd be willing to take this renewal beyond the confines of the king-sized bed. Against the wall, across the desk or in the shower were all acceptable alternatives.
Although Tony would've liked to accept full credit for the heights they achieved, Claire was not an innocent bystander. Her confidence and independence were not limited to verbal retorts. Her boldness both surprised and satiated him. At one point, Tony questioned who was claiming whom. Remembering her words, Tony, you are mine and nobody else's, he acquiesced; he'd met his match.
Perhaps he'd helped to create the woman before him. At one time he'd wanted nothing more than to subdue, control, and dominate her. How could he have been so wrong? While she was gone, his life was empty. Yes, there were things and money-none of that mattered. None of it held a candle to the way her words touched him, or the sensation of her tongue on his neck, her lips upon his skin, or her hands caressing...
She wasn't only an amazing lover, but an amazingly strong woman who'd found a voice and was willing to speak to him like no other. Yet she would also allow him reticent and genteel in the presence of others. It was more than he'd ever imagined, more than he deserved.
When they finally submitted to sleep, no need was left unfulfilled. As his head settled against the soft pillow and Claire nestled against his chest, Tony wrapped his arm around her shoulder and allowed his body to relax. For now, she was safe and they were together. When her breathing slowed and her warm, sexy body melted into the crook of his arm, Tony inhaled her amazing aroma and closed his eyes.
For the first time in nearly a week, Anthony Rawlings fell into a deep sleep.
Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about.
-Unknown Author The first mailing to arrive at the estate addressed to Claire Nichols Rawls was a card, congratulating them on their impending parenthood. The card wasn't signed, the address was typed, and the return address was Cedar Rapids-too close for comfort. Tony's security team intercepted the card based on the unfamiliar name. Other than the name, there was no obvious threat; nevertheless, Tony met with his security team and household staff. Everyone was to be on the lookout for anything suspicious, and any such item was to be brought directly to him. Claire was not to be burdened.
It wasn't a matter of hiding the truth from Claire; the way Tony saw it, he was protecting her-just as he'd promised to do. After the deliveries in California, Tony wanted Claire to feel safe. Though her laptop had not been found, he and Catherine had done everything possible to facilitate her sense of security, including maintaining Clay as Claire's full-time bodyguard.
Though Claire tried to act strong, the attack bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She'd even fooled Tony, until one night in late June when he realized she wasn't in bed. He scanned the large room and noticed the drapes amiss. Slipping quietly onto the private patio, Tony found Claire wrapped in the pink robe. Despite the warm summer night, she was hugging her midsection, shivering uncontrollably, and staring out into the sky. When he silently approached from behind, she jumped at his touch.
"O-oh, Tony, I didn't hear you." Her dampened cheeks revealed her hidden tears.
"What is it? Are you all right? Is the baby-"
She leaned into his embrace and nodded. "We're fine." The shuddering of her shoulders told another story. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'll be better soon."
Cupping her chin, he pulled her gaze upward. "What do you mean you'll be better soon? What's happening?" When she didn't answer, he asked, "Has this happened before?"
Nodding, she replied, "I-I see him... it's like he's right here... I feel like I can't breathe... sometimes it's like..." Her words faded behind her sobs muffled by the cotton of his shirt.
For the longest time, Tony held her tightly under the starry Iowa sky, as she trembled against his chest. Eventually, her cries lessened and the quaking subsided. "Can we go back to bed?" he asked.
Claire nodded.
Once they were settled, she confessed to recurring nightmares. Tony couldn't imagine. He'd only had his dream that seemed too real once, and she'd been battling these almost nightly. Hugging her, Tony asked, "Do you feel safe right now, here with me?"
Claire nodded against his chest. "I do. Now I do."
He pleaded, "Then let me help you, please. Don't try to fight him alone. I told you before that I wanted to kill the bastard myself. Please, Claire, let me help you do that. We'll kill that memory together. He took too much from you and could have taken much more, from both of us. Together, we won't let him take any more-not even your sleep. Please let me protect you."
Her tears once again dampened his t-shirt. "I love you," she whispered.
He kissed her hair. "I love you, too." They fell asleep.
Though the nightmares continued, with time their frequency and intensity began to wane, and Claire's sense of comfort around the estate continued to grow. She began acclimating herself in ways she'd never done when she lived there before. One of her favorite pastimes seemed to be gardening. They had multiple gardens, and Tony often found her outside in the sun, tending to the small plants. It wasn't that he wanted her to work, yet the pleasure she derived from the activity was obvious. He wondered why she hadn't done that when they were married. With her hands and knees covered in dirt, and a glow of perspiration, her smile brightened his world. Tony loved how when he'd get home from work, she'd drag him from flowerbed to flowerbed, explaining the different plants and telling him about their sun and moisture requirements. Although the flowers had always been present, without Claire he hadn't noticed them.
One Saturday afternoon while he was working from home, through his office window Tony saw Claire at the pool. Suddenly, his work paled in importance. He slipped to their room, donned his bathing suit, and joined her in the cool, clear water. Each act, whether gardening or swimming, reinforced Claire's increased level of comfort. With her hand in his, he noticed the dark evidence of her recent activity under her fingernails and teased, "I think you need a manicure after all of this manual labor."
Giggling, Claire pulled her hand away. "I wasn't planning on having anyone look that closely. Besides, I haven't had a chance to shower yet."
"Now that sounds intriguing!" He watched as his innuendo turned her expression sultry.
Since Claire's rejection of his initial proposal, Tony avoided asking directly if she'd marry him. She'd said that if he did, he wouldn't like her answer; therefore, he'd ease the subject into conversation. Though she'd continued to deflect his persistence-and he fully expected her to do it again-Tony wanted Claire to know that he wouldn't give up. The warm Saturday afternoon and relaxed setting seemed as good of a time as any. With a mischievous grin, he said, "In the meantime, I know a way to divert people's attention from your nails."
While holding his shoulders with her legs wrapped around his torso, Claire glanced toward her left hand. His heart clenched and time stood still at the realization that she hadn't immediately refuted his comment. Tony watched as her gaze lingered and her lips turned sweetly upward. With the reflection of the sun and water, her emerald eyes sparkled as Claire kissed him and replied, "Well, that shower I'm about to take... perhaps, if you can figure out a way to bring the ring in there, I'd slip it on. I mean-" she mused, "I wouldn't want it to go down the drain."
Grasping her growing waist, Tony gently pushed her away. He wanted-no needed-to see her clearly. "Are you finally saying yes, that you'll be Mrs. Rawlings again?"
If it were possible, her smile grew. Nodding, she lowered her lips to his neck, instigated a growl he couldn't control, and finally replied, "I'm willing to go from dating to engaged. Can we not rush the married part?"
As Tony took in his fiancee, Catherine's words of warning tugged at his potential happiness. He didn't want to be disappointed-he also didn't want to disappoint. Tony needed to make sure his rules were clear. "There is one condition."
"Yes?" she asked tentatively.
"I don't want to have to track this ring down again. Do not sell it, give it away, or leave it any place but on your beautiful finger." It was one of those undebatable statements.
Through a veil of thick lashes, she smiled and whispered, "I promise." They sealed the deal with a lingering kiss that took them from the pool to their suite.
Before entering the shower, Tony slipped the diamond on Claire's finger. "I thought it might be better if you weren't all slippery," he said.
Claire stared at the ring for the longest time. When she looked up, she replied, "I loved this ring once, but I need to be honest. I think I love it more today."
He pulled her close. "I know that I love you more today. You, my dear, have taught me what love truly is-and what it is not."
Claire snickered, "Whoever would've thought that Anthony Rawlings would be open to new lessons?"
"Oh, I'm open, but," his tone turned stern, "I meant what I said. I don't want that ring to ever be anywhere but on your finger. Are we clear?"
Claire lifted herself on her tipped toes and kissed his cheek. "Yes, we're crystal clear." As she stepped into the shower and steam filled the bathroom, Claire tilted her head toward the spraying water and teased, "Now, Mr. Rawlings, come here. Let's learn a few new things together."
By the time the first package arrived, Tony and Claire were officially engaged, and she hadn't experienced a nightmare in over a week. Tony refused to let the mailing threaten her newfound security. He wouldn't allow anyone or anything to risk renewing that terror. Without fully explaining the threat, Tony reassured her that he didn't care where she went or what she did as long as she wasn't alone. It didn't matter if it was an outing to the store, lunch with a friend, or a weekend to visit her sister, Tony's one requirement, one undebatable rule, was that either he or Clay be by her side.
For obvious reasons, Clay accompanied Claire during the weekend trip to Emily and John's. Claire wanted to inform them in person of their engagement. When Claire returned, she didn't say much about their visit; however, when Tony asked if she was planning another, she told him that for the time being she was restricting her travels to trips with him. Though he didn't like seeing her disappointed, Tony was glad that she didn't want to travel without him. He wanted to do everything within his power to create a stress-free environment where Claire felt not only safe but loved. Over the course of time he, Catherine, and the security team succeeded. Until the rattle.
Other packages had been intercepted prior to reaching the estate, but the rattle made it inside their home. Luckily, Clay saw it and called Tony before Claire noticed it. Tony immediately rushed home and called Catherine, Clay, and Eric to his office. Before berating the security detail, Tony needed to know exactly what had happened. As he listened to their information and voiced his opinion, Claire silently slipped into the room.
Tony didn't want her to know about any of the mailings-especially this one. The engraved message of: Baby Nichols-Rawls / R.I.P. could definitely be considered a threat. Therefore, when his eyes met hers, he silently pleaded, then demanded that she leave his office. Following his gaze, everyone turned to her, yet instead of leaving, she asked, "You're all very loud. Is this about me?"
"Claire," Tony said, summoning a calmer tone than the one he'd been using. "Please don't worry about this. I'm taking care of it."