It didn’t take long, considering the traffic, to reach their destination—the Crown Plaza Hotel on Broadway, in the heart of New York’s theater district. Once inside Tony directed Claire to Brasserier 1605, a beautiful restaurant bustling with patrons. The hostess immediately ushered them to a romantic table with a stunning view of Time Square. The waiter seemed to know their timetable better than Claire, he provided exceptionally efficient service. Tony ordered a bottle of wine, approved a taste, and the waiter poured two glasses.
For their appetizer they enjoyed delicious grilled sea diver scallops with seared Atlantic salmon as their main course. Claire thought that everything tasted scrumptious. Along with other sensory organs recently reawakened, she had a newfound appreciation for food. She enjoyed the aroma as the plate appeared in front of her, the taste on her tongue, and the texture as she chewed. Tony watched happily as she delighted in each bite of her seafood.
His mood amused Claire. It seemed different, in a positive way. He talked excessively, yet not about anything in particular. She asked when they were going back to Iowa, and he said he did need to have a few meetings on Friday. So they could leave Friday night or wait until Saturday. Claire felt bad about not being with Catherine on Thanksgiving. She would love to be with John and Emily, but knew better than to ask. Catherine had become her closest family. She hoped that Catherine had someone to visit for the holiday.
He wouldn’t give hints about their next destination. Being in the Theater District, Claire guessed they were on their way to a show. Smiling, he refused to tell her which one.
After dinner Eric appeared to chauffeur them to the Broadhurst Theater. The title on the marquee read “The Merchant of Venice” with Al Pacino. Claire knew it was one of the hottest tickets in town. They, of course, had amazing seats. She’d never been a Shakespeare fan, yet she became completely engrossed in the play. By the time it ended she’d laughed and cried. The entire cast’s performances were riveting, taking her to another world for two hours and completely draining her with the range of sweeping emotions. She was ready to go back to the apartment.
Eric waited for them as they left the theater. Not surprisingly, Tony didn’t ask Claire if she wanted to go back or go out. She assumed they would be heading to the apartment, so when Eric went another direction she was surprised. They headed north to Fifty-ninth Street and Eric stopped at Seventh Avenue. They were at Central Park.
The cold crisp air awakened her as they moved from the warm limousine to the waiting horse-drawn carriage. The horseman was prepared for the brisk weather with blankets, and Eric supplied them mittens and scarves. They snuggled together under the blankets holding mittened hands and observed the beautiful park with lights lining the paths and illuminating some of the trees. The large strong horse pulled the carriage slowly and steadily around the eight hundred plus acres. The methodical trot rhythmically created a cadence for their dialogue. Their noses and cheeks reddened in the cool air as they cuddled, talked, and enjoyed the incredibly romantic setting.
Tony gently held Claire’s mittened hand and spoke honestly with love, “Claire, you know I have dated many women.” She said she had read about some. “There have been women who have wanted to date me solely for my money, and I admit to taking advantage of that in the past.” His honesty had her full attention. “You know that I am a private person. Truly there are few people who have seen the real me. There are all sorts of psychological reasons for why I am the way I am. They probably stem from childhood and traumas early in life. But the past is that, and the reasons don’t matter. What matters is that unlike many of my business associates or acquaintances, you have met the real me.” That thought made her feel slightly uneasy. “There are sides to me that need subduing. Honestly I have never cared to try, but I do now. And I believe it is possible.”
Then while tenderly holding her hand and looking into her eyes, he asked, “Claire, the other night you asked if I cared about you. Honestly, with our initial arrangement I never intended to. But without a doubt, I do. Do you care about me? Do you enjoy being with me?”
Claire considered her answer. Honesty was the best policy, no matter the consequence. “Tony, I do care about you. I want you to be happy, and I would do anything to help that happen. And on a night like tonight, or even a quiet night at home, I enjoy being with you. More than enjoy.” She smiled and her emerald eyes glistened in the cold air. “But honestly, there are times I don’t. There are times I want you away from me, or vice versa.” She maintained eye contact and she watched for his reaction.
He smiled, kissed her long and hard. She kissed back. “You are the most amazing woman. I have vice presidents, presidents, and chairmen of boards who have never experienced me as you have. None of them would have the courage to answer that question as honestly as you just did.” She exhaled. “It is your strength and determination that have infuriated me. That strength and resilience has also made me fall in love with you.”
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock, but it was. He said that he loved her. He had her complete attention and yet her internal monologue almost drowned out his voice: Love, really? He just said he loves me? Do I love him?
“Claire, I experienced life without you while you were ill. I don’t want to do that again. But I want you to make your own decision. Tonight I would like to present you with two options: your freedom, you may leave tonight and your debt is paid; or . . .” he removed a diamond solitaire ring from his jacket pocket, “you could agree to marry me and spend the rest of your life with me, not out of obligation or because of a contractual agreement, but because you want to be with me.”
Her heart beat rapidly and her lungs momentarily forgot to breathe. She stared at Tony and at the ring. With only the illumination of the streetlamps she could see the brilliant solitaire diamond. It was surrounded by a delicate diamond border with additional diamonds on the platinum band. She’d never seen anything so beautiful, and Tony was offering it to her.
Her mind couldn’t stop spinning. She knew she should answer, speak, say something, but words failed her. He continued, “You told me yesterday no more black boxes, so I took it out of its box.” He grinned. “Could we see if it fits?”
Claire nodded yes, and extended her left hand. Tony smiled at her as he removed the fuzzy mitten and placed the ring on her fourth finger. She was suddenly glad she had agreed to a manicure. “It seems to fit.” Tony looked into her emerald eyes. “The question still seems to be unanswered. Do you want to keep it on and stay with me? Will you please be Claire Rawlings?”
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.”