Truth
Page 66
“Please give Catherine my love.” As she reached for the door handle she continued, “If you have truly changed, as you claim, you will respect my decisions. If that is the case, you are wasting your time.”
“I have invested much more.” He paused, “One last thing,” his words slowed, “do not share your unsupported theories -- with anyone.”
Claire straightened her neck, once again facing off with her ex. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that.”
He reached for her hand. Her thoughts were forming too slowly to react with enough speed, to save it from his clutches. He lowered his lips to soft skin as his fingertips brushed her palm beneath. Waves of warmth radiated throughout her body. Before releasing her captured appendage, he warned, “Be careful. You don’t want to disappoint me.” He dropped her hand as his dark brown eyes peered into the depths of her soul.
She maintained eye contact, “That – is no longer my concern. Good-bye, Tony.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the elevator. She watched his tall, elegant body disappear down the hallway.
It took her a minute; finally, she shut the door and collapsed with her back against the hard wooden surface. Her Emily phone fell from her camisole. The sound of shattering, refocused her thoughts. The small black devise lay helpless on the shiny marble floor. Dropping to her knees, she retrieved the phone. Opening its cover, the screen was black. Not registering the implication, she remembered Tony’s eyes. When he left, were they black, or had he kept them under control? Could he really change? Could she ever forgive him?
She tried to focus. The phone would not turn on.
Closing her eyes and absorbing the coolness of the marble floor, she fought to think. Each thought was epic and yet minuscule. She needed to get another phone. She also needed to call Harry. It was too late for lunch; she was too drained. Maybe she should nap, and later she’d face life’s decisions.
Dragging herself to the living room, she found her iPhone, so heavy. She managed to complete her unfinished text to Harry. Focusing, she read what she’d started an hour before: it talked about missing him at breakfast and being sorry for her behavior the night before. She just hadn’t pushed send before Tony arrived. She added: WOULD YOU JOIN ME FOR DINNER? And hit send.
Her bed seemed too far away. Yawning, Claire noticed the soft inviting sofa. Nestling onto the indulgent, cool leather she reached for a throw pillow and inhaled his scent. The brief exhilaration morphed to disappointment, questioning her future. Would Tony ever let her go? What exactly did he mean by his comment not giving up his quest?
Waking at two in the morning was not a good idea. Sudden exhaustion engulfed her. Claire was so tired. The large glass windows filled the room with sunshine. She glanced toward the mountains in the distance, appreciating their beauty, as their purple haze filled her vision with color. Dreamily, she observed the sky above. The amazing clarity reminded her of a Midwestern sky, crystal blue with light fluffy wisps of clouds. She wondered when the high pressure system had settled in, very unusual for Palo Alto this time of year. She knew that from meteorology, not experience. After all, she’d only lived on the west coast over a month. So much had changed in such a short time.
Normally, on a beautiful day like this, she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise, and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there. Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with any perpetrator -- except his employer.
That was apparent with Phil’s departure from the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could wait; she needed a little nap.
Claire tried to wake, but was that possible from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back. Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let her sleep?
It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”
The directive was not demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of persuasion, a kiss -- his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams, can’t it? There’s even a line in a song: in dreams our feet never touch the ground. Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.
She’d watched him walk away and locked the door. Didn’t she?
Convincing herself this was only fantasy, Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium. Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.
“I have invested much more.” He paused, “One last thing,” his words slowed, “do not share your unsupported theories -- with anyone.”
Claire straightened her neck, once again facing off with her ex. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that.”
He reached for her hand. Her thoughts were forming too slowly to react with enough speed, to save it from his clutches. He lowered his lips to soft skin as his fingertips brushed her palm beneath. Waves of warmth radiated throughout her body. Before releasing her captured appendage, he warned, “Be careful. You don’t want to disappoint me.” He dropped her hand as his dark brown eyes peered into the depths of her soul.
She maintained eye contact, “That – is no longer my concern. Good-bye, Tony.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the elevator. She watched his tall, elegant body disappear down the hallway.
It took her a minute; finally, she shut the door and collapsed with her back against the hard wooden surface. Her Emily phone fell from her camisole. The sound of shattering, refocused her thoughts. The small black devise lay helpless on the shiny marble floor. Dropping to her knees, she retrieved the phone. Opening its cover, the screen was black. Not registering the implication, she remembered Tony’s eyes. When he left, were they black, or had he kept them under control? Could he really change? Could she ever forgive him?
She tried to focus. The phone would not turn on.
Closing her eyes and absorbing the coolness of the marble floor, she fought to think. Each thought was epic and yet minuscule. She needed to get another phone. She also needed to call Harry. It was too late for lunch; she was too drained. Maybe she should nap, and later she’d face life’s decisions.
Dragging herself to the living room, she found her iPhone, so heavy. She managed to complete her unfinished text to Harry. Focusing, she read what she’d started an hour before: it talked about missing him at breakfast and being sorry for her behavior the night before. She just hadn’t pushed send before Tony arrived. She added: WOULD YOU JOIN ME FOR DINNER? And hit send.
Her bed seemed too far away. Yawning, Claire noticed the soft inviting sofa. Nestling onto the indulgent, cool leather she reached for a throw pillow and inhaled his scent. The brief exhilaration morphed to disappointment, questioning her future. Would Tony ever let her go? What exactly did he mean by his comment not giving up his quest?
Waking at two in the morning was not a good idea. Sudden exhaustion engulfed her. Claire was so tired. The large glass windows filled the room with sunshine. She glanced toward the mountains in the distance, appreciating their beauty, as their purple haze filled her vision with color. Dreamily, she observed the sky above. The amazing clarity reminded her of a Midwestern sky, crystal blue with light fluffy wisps of clouds. She wondered when the high pressure system had settled in, very unusual for Palo Alto this time of year. She knew that from meteorology, not experience. After all, she’d only lived on the west coast over a month. So much had changed in such a short time.
Normally, on a beautiful day like this, she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise, and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there. Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with any perpetrator -- except his employer.
That was apparent with Phil’s departure from the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could wait; she needed a little nap.
Claire tried to wake, but was that possible from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back. Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let her sleep?
It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”
The directive was not demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of persuasion, a kiss -- his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams, can’t it? There’s even a line in a song: in dreams our feet never touch the ground. Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.
She’d watched him walk away and locked the door. Didn’t she?
Convincing herself this was only fantasy, Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium. Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.
