Inferno Anthology (199 page)

By the grace of God, she felt everything in a removed yet present fashion. She saw his actions and heard his demands. She was present, saw his expression, felt his body, smelled his skin, and tasted her shame, yet she was somehow detached—not there. By the time he finished, her body exhibited various rug burns, and her hair was tangled and matted from the same lush carpet.

Anthony Rawlings then callously stood and dressed. Pausing for a moment, he loomed six feet above her and then silently walked to the attached bathroom. There, he combed his hair and replaced the tie he’d removed. Meanwhile, Claire sat in the middle of the room involuntarily shivering, holding her clothes, and silently weeping, unsure of her next move.

When he returned to his office, his expression was of disdain and his tone was flat and cold. “You may go to your suite, clean yourself up, and get ready to demonstrate to me again your ability to follow instructions.”

Claire began to gather her clothes and dress, when he added, “Do not leave your suite until I decide. Your pass to roam has been revoked.” Her mind was beyond comprehension; thinking outside the box was more than she could handle. She remembered an agreement with herself for self-preservation: conceding to demands. Yet at this moment in time, Claire didn’t know or understand what she was doing, agreeing to, or being forced to do. She was lost and most likely suffering from shock. She only remembered his directives: go back to her suite and clean up.

Leaving his office, she turned toward the grand staircase. Beyond the stairs through the magnificent foyer with the high ceiling, Claire saw the double doors leading to outside. They were tall and ornate. Without thinking she walked toward them. Perhaps she should have run, but no one was around. The house was empty, like a museum or perhaps a tomb.

She heard her heart pound in her ears as she approached the handle wondering if it would open. She wouldn’t learn. Suddenly, the sound of shoes on the marble floor of the corridor muffled her heartbeat. The footsteps didn’t sound rushed—but determined—and were getting closer. Claire quickly turned and began the ascent to the second floor. She didn’t look back down. She didn’t want to see the person producing the footsteps, especially if that person would meet her gaze with a black-eyed stare. Instead, she walked toward her suite.

By the time she closed the door her internal monologue was in full gear. He actually hit me with his belt! My God! The man is mad. I have to find a way out of here!

At that moment, she didn’t search for an escape. Instead, she showered, redid her hair, her make-up, and put on another outfit. While she cleaned herself up she contemplated fleeing. Questions arose: Where would she go? How would she get there? How far to civilization? And what were her chances of success? And most importantly, if she failed, what would he do?

Her lunch arrived. Even though she missed breakfast, she barely ate. She sat quietly on the sofa, read a book, stared into space, and waited for instructions. A feeling of helplessness settled into her chest like nothing she’d ever known.

About 4:30 PM, the
beep
sounded. The door opened, and she dutifully obeyed. His demeanor, less malicious than before, seemed merely callous. The forbearance of the early morning and the tour were gone. Anthony had a goal for his actions: Claire needed to understand who was in control. She had done this to herself. He told her. She needed to do what she was told. But did she? No.

He made her say: “No, I didn’t do what I was told.” And behaviors have consequences. Could she remember that? “Yes, I understand behaviors have consequences.”

That evening they didn’t dress appropriately as they prepared for dinner in Claire’s suite. Anthony decided Claire would model some of the lingerie. Dinner was eaten while wearing a flowing black silk negligee.

Every time she thought he was done and would leave, he regrouped. Maybe a drink of water or check the messages on his iPhone, then he resumed. The violence ended, but the domination continued. Although Claire wanted to scream, she didn’t. The more she obeyed, the less ruthless his instructions. After midnight, Anthony left her suite. He didn’t say whether her door would be unlocked in the morning, and she couldn’t remember if she heard the familiar
beep
. She wanted to check, but her body barely moved. Instead, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their life.

—William James

HER EYES DIDN’T
open until she heard the door and her breakfast arrived. It usually came after she awoke. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 10:30 AM, the latest she’d slept since her initial arrival. The young lady with the food apologized. “I’m sorry, Ms. Claire. I know you were still asleep, but Mr. Rawlings would like you dressed and in his office by noon. Catherine said you need to eat.” She handed Claire her robe as she got out of the bed.

“Is Mr. Rawlings working from home again today?” Claire’s head pounded and body ached. This was way too late for coffee, and perhaps the activities of yesterday were affecting her.

“Miss, today is Sunday. Mr. Rawlings is usually home on Sundays.” The young lady left the suite. Claire made a mental note: Watch out for Sundays
.

Timidly, Claire approached the mirrors in the bathroom. Lowering the soft robe, she saw long red stripes on her back and new bruises. She didn’t cry; instead, she steamed with anger. Of course, it was directed toward
him
but also at herself. She wanted this nightmare to end, but she couldn’t figure out the solution. Claire wasn’t accustomed to the feeling of helplessness, and she didn’t like it. Her only solution was to remain resolute until an opportunity for escape arose.

At 11:57 AM Claire knocked on Anthony’s office door. The door opened, and he looked up from his desk. “Good afternoon, Claire.”

Smiling respectfully, she replied, “Good
morning
, Anthony. I believe it’s still morning.” Claire walked into his office and stood before his desk: the same place where twenty-four hours earlier had been the terrifying scene of his rage and domination. With her back straight, chin high, and smile plastered on her lips, she looked at his eyes and wondered who he would be today.

The blouse she chose and her make-up covered the visible signs of the prior day’s happenings. Anthony sat quietly and studied her. The silence made her uncomfortable. She prayed he couldn’t hear her heart beating too fast or notice her wet palms. Long ago, she learned that awkward silences were an interview technique. She wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.

Finally, he said, “I believe you are correct, for another two minutes.” Anthony’s eyes seemed lighter. So Claire breathed easier and smiled. She was on time. He continued, “Lunch will arrive here in a few minutes. I thought we would discuss some of the glitches that our business deal has encountered.” He stood and moved toward Claire.

She kept her ground, neck straight, and watched as he circled the grand desk. He stopped only inches away. She inhaled his fragrant cologne and tilted her neck upward to see his face. He didn’t speak but indicated with a gesture that they move to the conference table where he pulled out a chair for her to sit; she did. He sat at the head of the table with Claire to his right. The room was silent as Claire thought to herself how his gentlemanly behaviors were such a farce.

With her smile still intact, Claire asked, “Glitches? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

BEFORE RESPONDING, HE
sat back and contemplated Claire Nichols. Her eyes contained an intense fire. She had more daring than half of the presidents of his many companies. After what he put her through, he couldn’t help but be astounded.

“I wasn’t sure you would come here today.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. I believe my job duties include doing as I’m told.”

“That’s correct.” He chose his words carefully. “Perhaps you can be trained.”

CLAIRE’S MOUTH TWITCHED,
but she stayed steady. Getting upset would only accomplish losing control. By losing control she would be giving it to him. He may take it, but by God, she wasn’t giving it. “I’m trying my best. Now glitches?”

A knock came as the door opened and their lunch arrived. They sat in silence as the young lady placed their food in front of them and asked Mr. Rawlings if they needed anything else. He informed her they were currently fine. She retreated from the office and closed the door behind her.

“Glitches, yes—I spent 215 thousand dollars for a business deal. I make deals that will be lucrative to me. I expected a better return for my money than I’ve experienced in the last three weeks.”

If this was supposed to shock Claire, it didn’t. She casually picked up her fork, ate a piece of broccoli, and responded. “I would believe that yesterday you successfully increased your return.” Stabbing another piece of broccoli, she added, “Besides, wasn’t it you that decided your business holding would be locked away for almost two weeks?” She ate more broccoli. Part of her feared retaliation, but the other part believed he appreciated the bravado.

“That is true, and after what I’m currently witnessing, I’m considering the possibility that it was worth it.” He watched her expression as he spoke. “And we have no deadline for completion of our contractual agreement.”

Claire didn’t know if she should be happy that he seemed impressed. She did think an estimated timeline would be nice, but she didn’t mention that either. Instead, she said, “Then apparently, the
glitches
have been resolved.” She felt she appeared respectful enough to avoid confrontation, but impertinent enough to demonstrate resilience. The light brown gleam around his irises, somehow told her he wouldn’t explode. She would learn to read him. They continued to eat.

Claire let Anthony do most of the talking. He discussed more of the
house rules
. She could roam the house; however, in anticipation of more glitches, she was not permitted to go outside or consider leaving the property. His office and the corridor of his suite were off-limits. Her schedule would be hers for most of the day—unless told otherwise by him or Catherine. He didn’t work from home that often, but when he did she would be required to be nearby and available at all times. On days he went to the office, his only requirement would be that Claire be back in her suite by 5:00 PM to receive evening instructions. He was a very busy man and wouldn’t be home every evening to dine with her; however, on the nights he intended to be home, she would receive instructions for time of dinner, apparel, and other plans he may have. If he were in town, she would receive instructions as to his intentions regarding visiting her suite and the estimated time of his arrival. Claire verbally responded to all of his rules.

The young lady with the food came back to clear the dishes and brought a carafe of coffee with two cups. Claire’s headache was improving with food, but more coffee would be helpful. Anthony told the young lady that he and Ms. Claire would be having coffee on the sun porch. She thanked him and left with the coffee. Claire didn’t remember a sun porch from the tour.