Truth - Romig Aleatha - Страница 41
- Предыдущая
- 41/147
- Следующая
“Thank you, I left specific instructions for a conspicuous table, near the center of the main dining room.”
“Oui, we will do everything we can to accommodate you and your companion. The lounge is to the right.”
“Merci.” Thanking the maitre d’, she followed the piano music and made her way to the posh lounge. Years before, when Claire accompanied Tony to a French restaurant, she was at a complete loss as he spoke to the wait staff. While in France, she began to pick-up a few words. However, it was while in prison, she had time to study both French and Italian. She wouldn’t be considered fluent in either; however, she could understand what was said around her. Undoubtedly, her speech held a very American accent.
The lounge was beautifully contemporary, mostly white with colored lights, creating an awe-inspiring ambience. She noticed a few other couples at nearby tables. Claire checked her watch, as the other couples were escorted from the lounge. At two minutes before seven, she found herself sitting alone, in the great expanse of the lounge. Maintaining her mask of calm she watched as the archway filled with the man from her past.
Memories of their last meeting in the Iowa City jail flooded her consciousness. Tony’s presence filled the otherwise empty room. The earth no longer rotated on its own axis, but on him. She had compartmentalized away his utter dominance. As much as she tried to appear aloof, the mixture of emotions raging through her, threatened to propel her from the soft luxurious seat. Unconsciously, she gripped the arms of the chair, hoping for stability. Claire feared, if not for the anchor, she might possibly become airborne.
Her breathing labored as his gorgeous form advanced closer. With each step, he narrowed the vast fifteen month divide. He hadn’t changed. His perfect appearance was just as she’d remembered, from his dark thick hair masterly styled in place, to his brown eyes sparkling with electricity. His cheeks were raised, revealing a closed lip grin. And of course, his suit was silk, tailored specifically for him, with cuff links shining from the edge of his jacket sleeves. If anyone else had been in the room, they would have disappeared into his all-encompassing aura. But alas, no one else was present, except the piano player. And momentarily, even the music dissipated.
From the archway to Claire’s table could be traveled in a few seconds; however, it seemed as though Tony’s casual stride fought an unseen tide. The seconds lasted minutes, hours, or perhaps days. During the elapsed expanse of time and space, Claire remembered every moment of their time together. Three years of memories compressed into a fraction of time. Finally, accomplishing his journey – because Claire knew Anthony Rawlings rarely failed at any endeavor – he stood before her table. She fought diligently to remain calm and serene, as he politely nodded in her direction.
His voice filled the cavernous room, engulfing the otherwise empty molecules and stirring the cauldron of emotions within her chest. “Good evening, Claire.”
She’d fought this fight before. Admittedly, she’d rarely won, but nonetheless, the battle was familiar. Claire pressed on, “Good evening, Tony. Won’t you please have a seat?”
“Thank you.” He pulled the chair from the table and lowered his tall lean body into cushioned seat. She watched as his dark eyes remained fixed on hers. Perhaps the rest of the world was gone. It was the most plausible answer. Heaven knows she couldn’t see or think of anyone else. That must be the answer, they were the only two people left, as the Earth spun into a timeless abyss.
Claire once read time doesn’t pass at normal speeds within a black hole. If one were to travel into a black hole for only moments and return again, centuries would have passed. That explained the sensation she felt, once again peering into his dark gaze. She wouldn’t look away; she’d trained herself better than that. Then again, she reasoned, it wasn’t an option. She couldn’t divert her gaze if she wanted. The hold upon her stare was stronger than any ropes or chains made by man. Claire knew from experience, submitting to the hold was her best chance at survival. Fighting was a futile waste of energy.
As she felt herself slipping into her old station, she remembered her cause. Claire remembered her friends and their support. She recalled the advice of a good friend. She needed to ask herself, am I in fear of upsetting him? Does he make me smile? She thought about her cellphones in her purse and her car in the parking lot.
No! She could fight and survive. She had! Within the milliseconds that transpired, she clawed her way out of the abyss, time had not elapsed. She continued their dialogue. “It was nice of you to accommodate my change in plans.” Taking a sip of her water, she fought the dryness threatening her mouth and gestured toward a bottle of wine. “I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of wine.”
Tony smiled a devilish grin. Claire’s insides tightened. His eyes lightened as he lifted the bottle and assessed the label. “Excellent choice.”
Before their conversation could continue, the waiter appeared at their side. “Monsieur and Mademoiselle, your table is not yet ready. May I open your wine?”
Claire spoke before Tony could answer, “Oui, grazie.” She noticed Tony’s smile broaden. In the past she learned amusement wasn’t always a good thing. A small voice in the back of her head warned her to proceed with caution.
After the waiter poured the wine, he left them alone, literally. Claire couldn’t help notice the absence of others. She tried diligently to keep her increased unease hidden.
“My, Claire, you continue to amaze me. I see you’re trying to show me the new independent Claire Nichols.” She didn’t speak. He continued, “You don’t need to work so hard. I’ve been observing you from a far and am already impressed.”
“Tony, my goal is not to impress. My goal is to show that I don’t need your observation. I’m doing quite well on my own.”
“I believe you have surpassed my expectations, once again.”
“And for the record, I was independent before our encounter.”
“Yes,” pause, “I can see how you would think that.” He sipped his wine, “Now tell me, what the point was with the change in venue?”
“No point. I’ve eaten here and thought you’d enjoy the cuisine.”
“I see,” he continued to sip the wine. “That’s good. I was afraid you were trying to manipulate our visibility...”
Before he could continue the maitre d’ approached their table. “Excusez-moi, your table, it is ready.”
“Gaize,” Tony replied as he stood. While Claire gathered her handbag, Tony politely helped her with her chair.
As she stood, she continued to fight the old pull. It was as if she were slipping into Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, perhaps not slipping, pulled – by an irresistible force. She needed to remain diligent to be the independent woman she longed to be.
Walking across the empty lounge, Tony placed his hand in the small of her exposed back. She didn’t fight the contact. Actually, she fought the sudden desire to melt toward it. Memories came rushing so fast, she barely had time to blink – the feel of his caress – his ability to elicit emotions and desires – the warmth and security of his embrace. Although her resolve diligently fought, her heartbeat quickened and fantasies interlaced her recollections. Not only did she remember his large strong hands; she also remembered his tender mouth, firm steady chest, and tight abdomen. The slight touch evoked memories of ecstasies they’d shared. Highs, which before him didn’t exist, and elations she feared were forever extinct.
When his tall body inclined, allowing his lips to hover near her ear, her body tingled. Then, without warning he whispered, and her fantasy evaporated. Reality struck with a slap that only real life can elicit. “I’m glad visibility was not your goal for this evening. I would hate to disappoint you.”
- Предыдущая
- 41/147
- Следующая
