Aleatha Romig: Behind His Eyes

“Thank you, Anton. I may not agree with your plan; however, I told you I’d do my part. Now, what do you expect when you enter the suite?”

“What do I expect? I expect respect for the authority I obviously hold over every aspect of her life. At this moment, I expect her to have the good sense to recognize the magnitude of her current situation.”

Catherine leaned forward, her voice held the tone of a warning. “Caged animals fight. I saw the scratches on your arms when she first arrived.”

“That won’t happen again.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

Anthony nodded confidently. “I am.” He wondered if Catherine would ask for more clarification. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d share his plans. After all, those plans were why his excitement at their reunion was once again growing. Anthony glanced at his watch. “Did you tell her I’d be there at 10:00 PM?”

“I told her between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM. She seemed desperate for me to stay and talk. I believe she’s lonely.”

“I saw that on the video.” The woman he’d observed in Atlanta was both social in her work and her private life. Perhaps this time away from others was beneficial. He planned to emphasize how he controlled her interactions. His grin broke through his facade with the realization— there wouldn’t be anything he didn’t control.

“Thank you, Catherine. I think I can handle this from here.”

She stood. “This was very risky for a man of your—”

“Thank you, Catherine,” he interrupted. “It’s a roll of the dice. High risks yield the best results. It’s about time I learn if your manipulation has added to my yields.”

Before stepping from the room, Catherine smiled. “I’m sure you’ll capitalize on your investment … Mr. Rawlings.”

Anthony looked at his watch again, 9:51 PM. One last click of his mouse and he saw Claire, up on the screen, pacing near the fireplace in her suite. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about her, from her family to her medical history. He knew that she and her sister were all that remained of the Sherman Nichols line. He also knew that she liked her coffee with cream, and that about six months ago, Claire had had the birth control device inserted. During his observations, he didn’t find her to be promiscuous; the doctor’s notations stated something about convenience . Grinning toward the screen, Anthony agreed: the insert was convenient.

Standing, Anthony put on and buttoned his double-breasted suit jacket. No, he’d been wrong when he thought the actual acquisition had been the climax—there would definitely be many more to come !

Anthony depressed the button on the side of the doorframe while simultaneously hearing the beep and opening the door. Claire’s eyes opened wide while she remained seated in the chair near the fireplace. The last time he’d seen her—in person—she’d looked like hell, wearing a robe, her hair a mess, and her face discolored. Tonight was definitely an improvement. It wasn’t just her appearance, although Anthony approved; it was her demeanor. That morning, nearly two weeks ago, Claire had been out of control—demanding, yelling, and crying. It wasn’t that she was in control now; Anthony saw the fear in her eyes. It was that she was … composed.

“Good evening, Claire.”

She stood and replied, “Good evening, Anthony. Shall we sit?”

When he stepped toward her, he noticed her quick intake of air. Confidently, he sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. He watched intently as she sat on the edge of the chair with her back straight. The hum of the fireplace fan filled the room as he considered the woman before him. Without a doubt, she was an improvement over the one he’d left on the floor of the same suite.

He waited to see if she would ramble. When only the fireplace blower prevailed, Anthony spoke, “Do you think you’re 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 felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. What the hell? He glared toward the woman who had the audacity to sound trite. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think; joviality has sustained me.”

He tilted his head. The woman had nerve—he’d give her that. “I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”

He sat silently and contemplated this petite woman who had the fortitude to maintain eye contact, and answer his questions with a hint of bravado, all while knowing she was at his mercy. Or did she know? Did she think this was some kind of sick reality TV show and any minute it would be over? He stared. “Tell me what you’ve learned during your reflection time.”

She rambled about clothes and food, truly inconsequential things. Anthony interrupted, “That’s all very nice, but what have you discovered about your situation?” He couldn’t contain his condescending tone, perhaps he didn’t want to. After all, she needed to know who held the answers. “Do you even know where you are?”

After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I’m in Iowa, or at least somewhere near Iowa City.”

How the hell? He’d scanned hours of video—did someone pass her a note of some kind? Anthony couldn’t imagine that they’d disrespect him like that. “And … you learned this … from whom?”

“I learned it from the Weather Channel — Local on the Eights . The local weather for this area comes from Iowa City, Iowa.”

Anthony exhaled. Damn, he was on edge. Her flippant attitude needed readjustment . “Very well, that will spare me telling you. For the sake of clarity, since that seemed to be a problem in the past, you’re aware that your indebtedness to me can only be determined paid by me ?”

Her smile appeared pained, yet she managed to keep it in place as she nodded. Anthony waited for an answer. When she didn’t speak, he proclaimed, “I prefer verbal confirmation.”

“I am aware that you are the only one who can decide when my debt is paid in full.” Though her words sounded too calm, her hands remained clenched. She’d never know how that unconscious act helped to calm her captor. He wanted—no needed—to know that she understood his authority.

He continued, “You are also aware that your duties require you to be available to me whenever, wherever, and however I demand?” His eyes never left hers.

“I am aware.”

He reiterated for clarification. “You’re aware that you must at all times obey my rules?”

“I’m aware that I must do as I’m told.”

She was good. He didn’t believe a damn word she said, but he had to admit, she was good. Oh, he considered demonstrating more of his authority, but perhaps Catherine had been right. Claire Nichols was lonely, and she was grasping at the straws of any interaction. Perhaps no interaction would prove to be the most educational tool. Besides, he had plenty of time—as much as he wanted—for interaction. Finally, he spoke, “Very well.” He stood and walked toward the door.

Before he reached his destination, Claire’s determined tone rang throughout the suite. “Wait.”

Anthony turned, unable to hide the shock at her demand, his eyes locked onto hers.

Apparently, she had the good sense to realize her breach of station. Immediately, her tone softened, “I’m sorry … but may I leave this suite?”