Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

In all reality, he could have paid for Claire Nichols’ disappearance—only to have her reappear in his home—but that would’ve increased the number of people privy to his plan. With her ultimate future unsure, Anthony felt the fewer number of people on that list, the better. Most importantly, if he’d paid someone to bring her to Iowa, he would’ve missed out on the euphoria that came with finalizing the big deal . Anthony had experienced that feeling over and over in business, but that was nothing like the sensation of slipping the GHB into Claire’s wine glass. At that moment, he knew that there was no turning back—he didn’t want to.

Being a professional businessman with an image to maintain, Anthony worked out every possible scenario and created believable contingency plans. The time and energy he’d put into Claire Nichols’ acquisition could have been billed in millions—literally. Anthony Rawlings’ time was incredibly valuable. Suddenly, his lips twitched upward. Perhaps he should add his billable hours in planning and executing Claire’s acquisition to Claire’s bill? But, wouldn’t that be like a jail sentence of ‘life’ plus 1000 years? Her first debt was practically insurmountable; adding more to it was truly adding insult to injury.

Movement on the screen caused him to refocus. He watched as Claire unsuccessfully tried to open a bottle of water. After a few attempts she wiped her hands on the arms of the chair and finally removed the cap. If he’d have zoomed closer, he would’ve seen her complexion pale as she forced herself to swallow the refreshing liquid. Satisfaction filled his chest; his delay was working—Claire knew he was coming to her, and her anxiety was obviously growing with each passing minute.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d been wrong to think the fun was over. Perhaps there’d be more opportunities to enjoy the woman in the black dress and heels he was watching. He reminded himself, it wasn’t all about enjoyment, well at least not hers. No, Claire Nichols had a bill to pay and lessons to learn.

Anthony was in a place he’d never been. Metaphorically, he was entering virgin territory. After all, he’d never before held a woman captive. There’d never been a need—or a desire. Women were a nice accessory and a necessary complement for many occasions, and through the years, more women than he could remember were willing to fulfill that role, as well as be attentive to his physical needs. Of course, he treated each one with respect. Anthony Rawlings couldn’t have disgruntled women running around talking about him in a negative way. Each separation was his fault— his plate was too full, he had too many responsibilities. The fact that he usually dated high-profile women helped. They, too, had lives, responsibilities, and reputations that required discretion. If he tried to remember half of the gorgeous women he’d dated, Anthony believed that all of his separations had ended amicably.

Thankfully, he had people like Shelly, his publicist, and Patricia, his private assistant, to remind him when he’d be encountering an old flame. It even seemed that at times, Patricia found his lack of sincerity regarding these women amusing. After all, many of them, at one time or another, considered him a boyfriend. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth. Never in forty-five years had Anthony Rawlings considered himself someone’s boyfriend . The concept was laughable.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the company of women; it was that, in the game of life, women were a liability, a risk that he wasn’t willing to take. He was a master at appearances. Accepting a woman as anything more than an accessory for an evening or as an outlet for physical needs would be to allow that woman to be part of his persona—part of his life. That had never happened, nor did Anthony Rawlings foresee it happening in the future. He had too much at stake.

Bringing his thoughts back to Claire, he felt a renewed sense of anticipation. New experiences were rare for him. Viewing the monitors as Claire pretended to read—since she hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes, he knew she wasn’t concentrating—he conceded that undoubtedly this would be a brand-new experience. He just had to figure out exactly what he would do with it—and with her. His grin reemerged.

Oh, he knew what he would do with her—whatever he wanted. The question that loomed in his mind was how she would respond. Although she’d willingly engaged in vanilla sex in Atlanta, since coming to Iowa, she’d been considerably less compliant; however, Anthony reminded himself, that was before—before her nearly two week time-out . After watching the short interaction between Catherine and Claire on the video recording, when Catherine informed her of his impending arrival, Anthony believed Claire had experienced an attitude adjustment.

Truly, he didn’t know how he wanted her to react when he entered the suite. The fact she was dressed appropriately held potential. Perhaps she could be trained to work off not only her bill, but the un-payable invoice that included the life of his grandfather— and perhaps some of his own billable time.

Briefly, Anthony changed a section of the screen to the Atlanta news. He’d been watching and scanning it daily during his travels in Europe. After over two weeks in his possession, he was happy to see that there hadn’t been any news reports or voiced concerns about the disappearance of Claire Nichols. It appeared as though Anthony’s efforts had paid off—emails, text messages, and Facebook messages all accomplished their goal. Claire’s friends and family believed she’d left town to pursue a new job opportunity—Anthony grinned as he switched the screen back to the S.E. suite—and their beliefs were in essence true. This was and would be her new job. Momentarily, he closed his eyes, as mental images of Claire’s growing list of job responsibilities filled his thoughts. Perhaps he should compile a written list?

A knock at his office door pulled Anthony from his sinister thoughts.

With a click of his mouse, the screens turned from the monitors in the S.E. suite to the closing stock market results for Rawlings Industries and its plethora of subsidiaries. Without inquiring, Anthony hit the button to allow access to his domain. It was after 9:00 PM and this was his home. He didn’t need to inquire as to who was about to enter his inner sanctuary; there were few possibilities.

“Mr. Rawlings, did you want to see me?” Catherine’s voice echoed as she stepped into Anthony’s office. Once the door was shut, she lifted a brow. “I would’ve thought you’d have investigated yourself, Anton.”

“I plan to. First, I want to know a few things.”

Catherine perched herself on the edge of a chair near his desk. “You weren’t watching from your trip?”

“I was, but there are some things you can’t decipher from a video feed—such as attitude. Tell me about the last two weeks; how have they been?”

Catherine smiled. “Educational. I happened to look inside the suite a few minutes ago. Did you see what she’s wearing?”

“I did. Did you tell her what to wear?”

“No, I told her that it was up to her.”

Anthony nodded as he sat back against his leather chair. “So, she seems to understand the importance of appearance—that’s good. What about interaction?”

“Until today, since you left, she’s only had access to Carlos. He delivered all her meals and returned for the dishes. The rest of the staff entered only when she was occupied with her showers.”

Anthony grinned. “Carlos—Carlos doesn’t speak English, at least not well.”

“I know.”

“Very good, Catherine, I applaud your resourcefulness.”