Behind His Eyes - Truth (13 page)

For a moment he stared at the woman who’d been his wife. He was teetering on the edge of sanity, and she was spurring him on, pushing him, when she knew damn well what he was capable of doing. She was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave. He decided to learn which. In a microsecond, he was before her, seizing her shoulders, and invading her space. Their faces nearly touched when he growled, “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re talking to
her
about
me
, and I won’t have it.”

Claire stared, fire burning in her damn green eyes. He’d asked a question. Common sense would tell her to answer, but no. Instead her glare burned his soul, daring him to push her further.

“Damn it, Claire, you infuriate me!” He released her shoulders and stomped toward the windows. With his back towards her, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Exhaustion overpowered his anger as he tried to explain. “I flew across the damn country and have been sitting in a damn car, waiting for your little reunion to conclude.”

“Tony,” her voice was still strong, “you need help. I can’t believe you’re watching me that closely. Get over it!”

Her words made no sense.
How could she even pretend that he could stop?
“Don’t you understand?” he asked with all sincerity. “I can’t. You know from your prison delivery that I’ve been watching you for a very long time.”

“And I think it’s beyond creepy. Why? Tell me why. You didn’t answer my question before.”

The tension in his jaw severed as the corner of his lips inched upward. “Creepy? I’ve been called many things, but I think that’s the first time someone has called me
creepy
.”

“To your face,” she retorted.

His grin felt foreign after the tension of the past few hours; nevertheless, it was real. In a matter of seconds, Claire had taken him from fury to fancy. Her ability both amazed and scared him. “Touché. That may be true.”

“I guarantee it. Now, if you’re going to burst into my hotel room, answer
my
question. I don’t owe you answers if you’re not going to give them to me.”

He looked toward the sofa and back to Claire. “If you’re asking me questions, does that mean you aren’t throwing me out?”

Her arms folded across her chest, and her lips pursed as she contemplated. Finally, she said, “I don’t recall ever having the ability to
throw you out
of anywhere. Maybe times do change?”

“People change, too,” he murmured as he sat. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Are you expecting company?”

“I ordered wine from room service.”

When she peered through the peephole, he smirked, “That must be why you opened the door earlier. You obviously didn’t look the last time.”

“You’re right; it’s a habit I need to work on.”

He exhaled and leaned his head against the plush upholstery. It’d been one long day, and he didn’t see it ending anytime soon. When he looked up, Claire was signing the receipt and handing the waiter a tip. In the past, he’d always been the one to handle everything. Sitting back and watching was odd, yet surprisingly refreshing. Before the waiter left, he opened the bottle. Tony nodded when the waiter looked in his direction.
How did the two of them appear to this man? A husband and wife? A couple dating? A man on the verge of insanity and the woman who put him there?
For once, Tony didn’t care.

Tony started to stand when Claire’s gaze captured his attention. She was giggling—
giggling
? He shook his head and asked, “Did you order two glasses?”

Through muffled laughter, she replied, “No, but since they’re here, would you like some Merlot?”

He stepped toward her. “You know, you’re the only person who can have me pissed off one minute and completely dazzled the next. Why are you laughing?”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t know, shock, absurdity? It seems I never know what’s coming. As much as I plan, I’m continually blown away.”

Tony poured wine and spoke without a filter. He’d spent much of the past five hours recalling their past; the wine returned one particular scene to his mind. Handing her a glass, he asked, “Do you remember when we had wine at the
Red Wing
?”

Claire closed her eyes and nodded. “I do.”

“I’d been watching you for years. I was so nervous that night. I thought I was planning your acquisition.” He looked into his glass.
Was it the wine that was making him confess or his need for Claire to understand?
Either way, it was liberating.

“If you’re using business metaphors, may I suggest
hostile takeover.
It’s more appropriate.”

He took a sip of wine and exhaled. “Yes, Claire.” Standing close, he looked solemnly down into her emerald eyes. “And I have apologized for that.” He paused for a moment, silently encouraging himself to go further, to tell her exactly what he was thinking. “What I didn’t know, as we sat talking, despite all my research, was
you
. I mean, I knew everything about you.” He shook his head reflectively, walked back to the sofa, and sat down. “Yet, I didn’t know
you
. Truthfully, at first, I had no desire to.”

“Oh,
really
? Because I recall some pretty up-close-and-personal contact.”

Tony smirked. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Yes, I wanted
that
. I didn’t want to
know
you—the real you. I fought it for months, but you were this light that kept sucking me in. It wasn’t supposed to be that way.
We
weren’t supposed to happen.”

“What was supposed to happen?”

He shuddered at the fleeting thought of Claire being another name crossed off of their list. Even before he knew the depth of his feelings, Tony knew he never wanted that. “Well, the
takeover
was supposed to stop you. I never expected anyone to flourish under such circumstances.” She eyed him suspiciously, yet all he saw was the strongest, most beautiful woman he’d ever known. “You didn’t just flourish, you conquered.” He took another drink of his liquid courage, though he’d rather it have been bourbon. “I’ve continually underestimated you, or perhaps I should say, you’ve continually exceeded my expectations. You still do. You’re the only person who has ever derailed me, and more than anyone, you know me, not
Anthony Rawlings
—me.”

“The real you. Would that be
Anton
?”

Something in his chest clenched. It wasn’t the anger he’d been feeling earlier; this was painful and solemn. He detested hearing that name from her lips. He exhaled. “I suppose, yes, but not anymore. I had it legally changed. So, you see, I didn’t lie. My legal name is Anthony Rawlings, and it has been for a long time.”

Claire stood as she responded, each phrase hitting him with painfully accurate aim. “You share this with me now, but not when we were married. That tells me that you never trusted me,
the only person to really know you
. Plus, you threw me away and left me to rot in prison.” Her hands slapped her sides with exaggerated movements as her volume increased. “You say you love or loved me, past or present. You don’t know what
love
is. You have an obsession, and it really needs to stop. Stop watching me. Stop having me watched. Your fun is done. It’s over.”

He couldn’t continue meeting her stare. If he did, he’d surely confess more than he was ready to admit. Instead, Tony concentrated on the swirling red liquid in his glass and weighed his response. His tone held none of the anger she’d directed at him. “I don’t know how to explain it. It was a loophole. Don’t you understand?”

Her eyes widened, filling his vision with green.

When she didn’t respond, he elaborated, “I tried to help you. Anyone else would have jumped at the insanity plea. I had a hospital all set; your commitment time would’ve been negotiable. But no.” Energy returned with each word. He stood and walked back toward the windows. “No! You refused! By doing that, you took your sentence away from
me
and gave it to the state of Iowa. I no longer had influence over your release.” He turned to face her, and his volume increased, “Why did you have to be so damn obstinate?”

“Me? You’re accusing
me
of being obstinate? I didn’t want you in control of my life any longer. I was willing to let the state of Iowa decide, rather than you.”

He tilted his head. “It was the only way to save you.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Save me from what?”

“Me.”

Claire resumed her seat as his one-word confession silently loomed larger than life, saturating the suite like a gas, filling the room, seeping into every crevice, and stealing the very air from their lungs. Tony had just admitted that the man he’d once been was someone he no longer wanted to be.
What would Claire do with this revelation?
His entire world hung by a string as he awaited her reply. Suddenly, their bubble shattered; her phone vibrated and flashed on the table before them. Without thinking, Tony read the screen:
HARRY CELL
.

His heart twisted. “Are the news stories accurate?”

“You should know the accuracy of news reports.”

The phone continued to vibrate. “Perhaps I should answer it?” he offered, the earlier sentiment in his tone now replaced with clipped sarcasm.

“No, thank you. I’ll be just a minute.” Claire reached for the cell phone and stepped into the bedroom. Before the door closed completely, he heard her say, “Hi.”

The difference in her tone was painfully obvious. With only one word, she’d thrust a knife deep into his chest. It was his fault, all of it. He’d done terrible things.
How could he ever expect her to understand?

Tony poured another glass of wine and walked back to the dark windows. He’d come to San Diego for one reason. Neither reminiscing about the
Red Wing
nor making monumental confessions had been on his agenda. Besides, Roach had confirmed that Baldwin was still in Palo Alto; therefore, if Claire told
him
that Tony was there, their private time would more than likely be cut short. A part of Tony relished the idea of confronting the mighty
president of security at a two-bit gaming company
. It wouldn’t even be a contest; nevertheless, that confrontation was also
not
why he’d come to California. Tony heard the bedroom door open and watched Claire’s reflection in the window as she walked toward him.

“I apologize for the interruption,” she said as she neared him.

“Do you now,
Ms. Nichols
?”

Her fiery gaze penetrated his composure. “I do. You’re correct; I
am
Ms. Nichols, not Mrs. Rawlings.”

Tony faced his ex-wife. The knife in his chest twisted. Her name was his doing and he knew it. Although she was merely inches away, the expanse suddenly seemed massive. At this late hour, he didn’t have the energy to attempt to lessen it. He replied, “I’m sure you’re busy. If I were
he
, I’d be getting on a jet right now. According to my calculations, that gives us about ninety minutes to discuss what I came to discuss.”

Claire walked toward the sitting area, refilled her glass, and sat. “What do you want to discuss?”

“You
will
discontinue your discussions with Meredith Banks and any further plans you’ve entertained regarding speaking with the media.”

She leaned back and smiled. “Will I now?”

“Don’t push me. I’m tired and suddenly not in the mood.”

“Well, I’d like to discuss something else.”

His neck tensed. “I would like to stay on topic.”

“Then it seems we’re at an impasse. Perhaps you should go. We can continue this another day—or not.”

“You’re not changing the subject.” Tony’s volume increased. “The nondisclosure of our relationship is non-negotiable.”

“I don’t recall signing anything—well, other than a blank napkin. We didn’t even have a prenuptial agreement, so I have no legal restraints on what I can and cannot disclose.”

Tony stepped closer. “Legal, no, but what about ethical or moral?”

“Did those concerns come into play during your
acquisition
or our
relationship
?”

“I have tried to explain—not at first, but they did.”

“Tony, I’m tired, too. I don’t have the energy to figure out your puzzles. I don’t plan on disclosing anything about your true identity to the media, if that’s part of your concern. I have, however, learned of many misconceptions regarding
me
during our relationship. I do plan on correcting those errors.”

“Why?” he asked.

She sat straight. “Because I can.”

Hearing his own words spewed back at him turned the metaphorical knife. Shit.
How many times had he said the same thing to her?

Claire continued, “The world wants to know, and I’m willing to disclose.”

“It won’t happen.” He sat his glass on the table and leaned forward. “I came here to emphasize
this
is a waste of your time. Currently, my legal team is working diligently to stop any information regarding our marriage or relationship from public media. If anything appears on the Internet or anywhere else, a civil suit will immediately follow, against you, Meredith, and the offending sites.” He watched and waited. Red seeped and flowed, yet the woman before him appeared amused.

Finally, she retorted, “Well, at least this time you have the nerve to deliver the ultimatum in person, instead of sending Brent.”

His shoulders pulled back—damn. The knife had done a three-sixty. “I was angry about the plea.”

“You’ve made your point, but now it’s my turn.”

“Yes,” Tony quipped. “I recall, you did like your turn.”

Instead of taking his bait, she went on. “I want a promise from you.”

“What promise do you want from me?”

“I want a guarantee that the people in my life, my associates and friends, the people whom I’ve
acquired
aren’t in harm’s way.”

“My, Claire, you give me too much credit. I’m a businessman. I don’t have the ability to cause harm to anyone, much less those associated with you.”

“Simon, John… do these names mean anything to you? How about my parents, your parents? Are there more? I can’t seem to process right now.”