That night, he tossed and turned until he had visual confirmation of her return. It was nearly 2:00 AM in Geneva, and Tony wasn’t sure who deserved to be reprimanded for this breach, Claire or Catherine. The next evening, Tony cut a dinner engagement short, claiming an exorbitant amount of work with a deadline quickly approaching, to sit in his suite and review days of video. Upon further investigation, he found what he wanted. Starting on the Monday after he left, and each morning following, at approximately 9:00 AM, Claire would walk along the garden path and quietly step through the perimeter of trees. Something in his chest clutched each time he watched her disappear into the shaded darkness.

On the fifth day he called Catherine again. It was after 11:00 PM in Switzerland, and he may have had more than a few fingers of bourbon. “Is she back?”

“Isn’t your Internet working?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. I’m concerned that you’re becoming lax in your judgment.”

“May I remind you that you were the one to approve the hikes in the first place? She reminded me of that.”

“Walks into the woods—not day-long excursions!”

Catherine’s response was more of a sound than a word.

Tony’s liquored tongue enunciated perfectly, and his words dripped with sarcasm. “I watched the exchange between the two of you on the day I left. Weren’t you just the sweetest?”

“I can be,” Catherine responded. “Would you have rather I did nothing and she went mad?”

This time Tony made the noise. “It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed.

“It was. She was on the edge of a very dark place. I know the signs. I just helped her see that she could survive.”

“I didn’t think that was your goal.”

Catherine allowed the line to go silent. Finally she replied, “I’ve grown used to her.”

“Used to her? Like a pet?” He knew better than to bring up the motherly comment again.

Catherine murmured under her breath. Apparently, she didn’t see his obvious restraint. He changed his tone. “What if she decides to leave the property?”

“She’s returned every day, with minutes to spare.”

“Hmm.” He assessed. “At least she’s a well-trained pet, but why? Why is she doing this, and where is she going?”

“I can only assume to gain some sense of personal freedom. She knows that her suite is monitored, and she feels she can have some time to herself beyond the perimeter of the grounds.”

Tony thought about Catherine’s response. It made sense, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to have that freedom. He wanted all of her. Perhaps it was the liquor, but his tone softened. “Do you think it’s helped her?”

“I do. She seems different, resigned to her fate, yet I don’t know—stronger.”

“And do you know where she goes? My property goes on for miles.”

“I don’t know. The laundry staff has informed me of bathing suits. Perhaps she’s sunbathing?”

“She can do that at the pool,” Tony answered, as images of Claire, wearing one of her many bathing suits, lying near the pool, paraded through his consciousness.

“Do you want me to tell her that she’s no longer allowed to go on her hikes?”

He contemplated. “You said she’s home every night by 6:00 PM. Why not 5:00 PM?”

“I told her 6:00 PM. You aren’t here. She dines alone.”

He nodded. “All right, no. Don’t stop her as long as she follows your rules. Catherine?”

“Yes?”

“On the day of my arrival, do not tell her when I’ll be in. Don’t even remind her of my day of arrival. I want to see if she’ll be ready. I want to know that she’ll be following my rules. She knows that if I’m to be home, she’s to be available. Let’s see what she’ll do with this new personal freedom and how far she’ll take it.”

“All right, Anton. If that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

He hit DISCONNECT.

As Tony’s hand touched the lever of Claire’s door, he took a deep breath. Perhaps, just perhaps, what Anthony Rawlings feared was that ten days ago he had succeeded. There was something about Claire’s resilience, something about her strength in the face of his tyranny, that intrigued him. It was a game and he enjoyed the invigorating play.

Ten days ago, Claire seemed defeated even before he showed her the videos. If he had totally broken her spirit, would the game be done? Then what would he do? If she were emotionally as accommodating as she was physically, would the challenge be over?

Tony couldn’t remember another time in his life when he wanted so desperately to have failed. Opening the door, he panned the suite and found Claire seated on the sofa with a book. Exhaling, he stepped forward, knowing that he’d have to face the consequences of his actions. Their eyes met and his back straightened. Tony knew. He could see it in those damn green eyes—her fire was back!

“Good afternoon, Claire.”

Her movements were deliberate and slow. She placed her bookmark in her book, laid the book on the end table, and stood. “Good afternoon, Anthony. It’s nice to have you home. How was your trip?”

He stepped forward, wanting—no needing—to gauge her reaction. The scent of her perfume intensified with each step. When he was mere inches away, he stopped. This proximity required her to look up to maintain eye contact. Without direction, her chin rose defiantly, her lips held the perfect smile, and her eyes screamed with the intensity he sought. As much as he wanted to pull her into his arms, he heard himself bait her. It was his game and he couldn’t stop. “My trip was long. I’m pleased with your greeting. Does this mean your temper tantrum from before my trip has reached its conclusion?”