She weighed her possibilities. He could be the most romantic man in the world. He was incredibly generous with his money, both to her for whatever she needed and others; thus: much philanthropic recognition. He was the most amazing lover. She’d never in her life experienced sensual highs like she had with him. He was the only person she could talk with freely. He knew all about her because he knew her private information. But that was the word that haunted her. But he could be dark, mean, cruel, controlling, and sadistic. He was the reason for that private information. “I . . . I am so surprised. Are you seriously asking me to marry you?”
He smiled. “Yes, this entire night has been leading to this proposal. I have watched you with me, in private and public, with my closest friends, and I want you there always. I love you.”
Again, internal debate: Love? He keeps using that word. Love, do I love him? I think I do. When did that happen? Oh my, Claire needed to think about this. The napkin thing happened too quickly, this needed contemplation. “Please let me think. I promise you an answer soon.”
He waited patiently. The carriage steadily moved through the cold crisp air. She saw her breath as she looked at her hand and at Tony. She thought about his patience as she healed from her injuries, about him risking public exposure with Dr. Leonard, about how he made her feel when she saw him walk into a room. Her contemplation took a while. They sat back in the carriage. She rested her head on his shoulder and thought. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t push. He held her hand.
She could decide to leave and do what? Go back to Atlanta. Did she still have an apartment? He waited. There was a side of him that frightened her, but the idea of living without him frightened her more. She needed him. He told her that. Most importantly, she loved him, she really did. Sometime during the last eight months he’d become her everything. She couldn’t imagine life without him. Finally, she answered, “God help me, yes. Tony, I will marry you. I love you too.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. She laid her head back on his shoulder as the carriage continued through the park. Claire looked again at her left hand.
“If you don’t like the ring we can look at others. It is from Tiffany’s. We can go Friday and exchange it.”
“Oh no! I love the ring. Besides, you chose it. It is exquisite. I am just so surprised.” She thought of something. “Does Catherine know you were planning this?”
Tony said she suspected, but he hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t know her response. “I never go into a meeting that I don’t know the outcome of. I am always prepared for every situation. Tonight I wasn’t sure. You asked about your debt being paid a few months ago. I thought that perhaps you would take that option.” He leaned down to kiss her hair. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you didn’t. I know Catherine will be too.”
When the carriage arrived back at Seventh Avenue, Eric had the limousine warm and waiting. As Tony helped Claire down from the carriage and led her to the car, he told Eric, “My fiancée and I are ready to go back to the apartment.”
“Yes, sir. Congratulations, Mr. Rawlings, and to you too, Ms. Claire.”
That night after some of the most wonderful lovemaking Claire ever experienced, she began to consider the fact that she was getting married and that meant a wedding. “I don’t know how to plan a wedding to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“You know what I mean. This isn’t your everyday Indiana or Iowa wedding. You are Anthony Rawlings. We can’t go to dinner without photographers. A wedding will be a national spectator event.”
He chuckled. “My dear, that is what wedding coordinators and planners are for. We will hire the best. They will assist in everything.” That made her feel better. She wondered if the wedding was a catastrophe, wouldn’t that be a public failure? “By the way, how do you feel about a Christmas wedding?”
Her mind went into overdrive. “Christmas? As in four weeks from Friday?”
“I can’t wait any longer than that to have you be my wife, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.”
She knew from experience his mind was made up. With queasiness