Consequences

acknowledgment of Claire’s statement, not an affirmation of its accuracy. Then she left the bathroom. Claire heard a faint beep as she left the suite. It reminded her of the noise made by a car fob.
    While still in the bathroom, her heart rate increased as she heard the faint beep again. He didn’t knock. He just opened the door and entered. Claire imagined him surveying the empty suite. If she stayed in the bathroom, would he eventually come for her? Or perhaps he would leave. He waited silently in the bedroom. It took a minute or two. But slowly, Claire opened the bathroom door and entered the suite.
    Determined to meet him head-on at his mind game, she used all her strength to suppress the fears that screamed to get out. The first things she saw as she entered the suite were his eyes, his dark black eyes. They resembled voids or black holes. His lips were moving. He was talking, yet Claire could only hear the memories of the previous night. She walked to the bookcase at the far end of the suite, feigning strength.
    The fake resolve melted as she turned to see the eyes staring at her. Then almost instantaneously, he was there, right in front of her. His proximity caused her stomach to wrench, tasting the nasty bile from earlier.
    He grabbed her chin, pulling her eyes and face toward the dark void. His strong voice was deep, slow, and authoritative. “Shall we try this once more.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “It is customary for one person to respond to the greeting of another. I said good evening.”
    Claire’s knees went weak at his touch. She wanted to yell, to run, but she wouldn’t let herself. If she couldn’t be strong, she could at least avoid fainting. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I am feeling well.” Still holding her chin, he had to feel her body tremble.
    He repeated, “Good evening, Claire.” This time, it was more drawn-out. His eyes were so cold. Claire couldn’t distinguish what they said, only that the depth of their darkness seemed infinite.
    “Good evening, Anthony.” She would tell herself she sounded strong, but she didn’t. At that moment, the door opened again, and a young man pushing a cart brought them their meal. Claire started to walk toward the table, but Anthony’s hand seized her arm, stopping her. She looked back up at him, into those eyes. He reached with his other hand to lift her dress and place a hand on her buttocks. The shock of his touch quickly turned to anger. Her green eyes flashed fire, and her neck stiffened. “What the hell . . . ?” Her impulse was to lash out, but the hand that held her arm tightened its grip, making her forget her words.
    “I see you can manage to follow at least one rule. Shall we eat?” His grip loosened as his voice attempted a reasonable tone. Anthony pulled back Claire’s chair at the intimate table. She eyed the display, and her thoughts summed up the scene. It all looks so nice and is such a masquerade.
    The food smelled wonderful, but Claire’s stomach wouldn’t allow her to eat. She managed a few bites. However, swallowing was difficult. Her anxiety made her mouth dry as cotton. All of her pep talks about standing up to him proved worthless. Instead, she sat politely, playing with her food and nodding attentively.
    There was an attempt at conversation. Looking at the dinner, Claire felt that something was missing besides common sense. The young man poured water into the glasses, yet to make the masquerade complete, there should be wine or champagne. It was almost as if he read her mind when Anthony commented, “I do not like to drink alcohol. It inhibits the senses.” She thought immediately how nice it would be to have a fifth of Jack Daniels about now.
    Anthony relished her discomfort. “Don’t you like your food?”
    “I do. I guess I’m not hungry tonight.”
    “I heard you have only eaten breakfast today. I suggest you eat. You will need your strength.” He grinned as he took a bite. His eyes didn’t grin. She used every ounce of energy to remain seated and not run, although the door was shut, and she heard the faint beep when the waiter left.
    If she had run, she could have avoided the next horrific hours of her life. Apparently, the night before was only a prelude. Once Anthony finished eating, he stood and took Claire’s hand. Her trembling increased as she stood. He smiled and held her at arm’s length. “Did you choose this dress for the evening?”
    “No, it was