Consequences

you need to concentrate on showing me that my wife is first and foremost concerned with pleasing her husband.”
    He used his other hand to shut the window between them and Eric. Next he unzipped the slacks of his tuxedo. Shocked and repulsed, Claire started to protest. She soon found speaking impossible. Holding her neck, he silently directed her head, resting his head on the seat, his fingers entwined in her hair. Claire tried to push away with her hand. Tony grabbed her hand and twisted it back. He did not release the pressure and movement on her head until he was finished.
    As they walked through the lobby of the Trump Tower, Claire did her best to appear composed. Tony placed his arm around her waist and tenderly whispered in her ear, “I have more ways you can demonstrate your devotion, Mrs. Rawlings. We will review when we reach our apartment.”
    The last thirteen months dissolved into nothingness. She wasn’t Claire Rawlings, wife. She was Claire Nichols, whatever he wanted her to be.

 
Any idiot can face a crisis, it is day to day living
that wears you out.
—Anton Chekhov
     Chapter 43
    The silence within the limousine intensified with each mile as Tony and Claire rode from Bettendorf toward home. The silent auction had unofficially raised over a half of a million dollars net . The cost of the event had been less than $10,000, due to Claire’s clever procurement of donated services and goods. The noiselessness of the ride was a stark contrast to the convention center.
    Before they left the conference room, Courtney spoke ecstatically about Claire’s ability. “This turned out so well! I just can’t believe the final figures. Honey, together we are going to raise money for every organization west of the Mississippi.”
    Although she felt uneasy regarding her future philanthropic activities, Claire hugged her friend and wore her smile. “Oh goodness, we will have to see.”
    “Well, enjoy this success for a little while because I have plans!” Courtney’s enthusiasm was contagious. Claire smiled and nodded her head.
    Mrs. Rawlings’s more recent hostess duties aided her efforts. She shrewdly mentioned the auction, both for donations and possible attendance, whenever possible. She found it interesting how Tony’s business associates were willing to participate in one or both when personally approached. The fact that they were in her home, eating her food, and receiving her attention didn’t hinder her efforts. The current president of the Red Cross of the Greater Quad Cities thanked Mrs. Rawlings and Mrs. Simmons profusely.
    Many of Tony’s associates from out of town attended the event. Claire hadn’t realized when she invited them that this had an additional impact on the Quad Cities. These important people needed places to stay and food to eat while in Bettendorf. According to Courtney, the media estimated that their event reaped over a quarter of a million dollars windfall to the Quad Cities. Claire hadn’t seen the coverage. She didn’t like television, and any other form of communication was still forbidden.
    As a matter of fact, since the Chicago Symposium Claire lost many of her newfound freedoms. She still saw e-mails, but only after responses had been sent. No longer a freedom, they were merely a blatant illustration of what was now prohibited. During the final preparations of the auction, it was undeniable that Claire and Courtney needed to communicate and see each other. However, contact and endeavors with others had dramatically decreased. Tony decided that Claire needed time to decide what was really important to her.
    The night in Chicago was reminiscent of her first encounters at the estate. Tony was excessively domineering, controlling, and demanding. Even the sadistic, cruel sexual tendencies from before her accident reappeared. Once back at the apartment, Claire tried to reason with him. “Please think about what you are doing.” It was as if his black eyes couldn’t register her voice. She pleaded, “Tony, remember your promise. I am your wife. Think what you are asking me to do.”
    “You are my wife. However, I am not asking.” Unaffected, his demands continued.
    When she awoke the next morning, feeling the too familiar aches from a year before, she dreaded his presence. Lying silently, she listened for his breathing. Relieved, she heard the sound of his shower in the adjoining room. Slowly, she sat up and thought about her options. Up until seeing Simon,