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these memories. The ones of her smiling and happy, those he wanted. Not this. His stomach churned. Had that really been him? Had he truly done those awful things? Closing his eyes, he saw beyond the words. He remembered what Claire’s account never would—he recalled the hours the drugs took away from her:
     
    Claire dozed peacefully on the king-sized bed, in the Presidential suite of the Ritz Carlton as Tony eased himself out of bed. Watching her closely, he emptied one vial of GHB liquid into her wine glass. He’d been told combining it with alcohol would accelerate his desired response. He poured more wine and sniffed. It didn’t smell different than normal wine.
    Easing himself back into bed, he moved toward her radiating warmth. This was really it! He’d wanted this for so long and it was finally here. When Claire accepted this dinner invitation, she’d secured her fate. Truthfully, that future had been secured years ago, her acceptance of dinner only made it easier. Watching her sleep, he thought about the sex. Yes, that would be a great bonus. She could pay the Nichols’ debt and he could keep her busy. Running the tips of his fingers over her collarbone he sighed. This was so much better than he’d imagined.
    Now, he needed to get her to Iowa.
    She turned toward him and smiled a sleepy smile. “I really need to get back to my place. I don’t want to disrupt your schedule.” Claire started to move away as she added, “I’m sure you’re busy.”
    Tony reached for her arm. Her soft skin and toned bicep flexed slightly at his touch. She was everything a twenty-six year old woman should be and more. He wanted to explore every inch of her, but first he had a mission to accomplish.
    Despite his efforts to the contrary, his sexual desires were making themselves known.
    Trying for his most sensual tone, he said, “I promise this isn’t a disruption, and maybe after some more dessert, we could have another glass of wine? There’s still some in the bottle from room service.” The dessert he had in mind wasn’t the remnants of Crème Brulée on the nearby table.
    He waited for an answer. Though it wasn’t verbal, Claire laid her head back on the pillow and looked into his eyes. Tony didn’t want to see the trust in those eyes. They were too innocent and pure. In all his research, he’d never gazed into the depth of her emerald soul, and he didn’t want to do it now. He lowered his lips to her collarbone and tasted her skin, moist from earlier “dessert”. Her body arched as he tantalized the tips of her firm breasts. The knowledge that she’d soon be his for the taking—whenever and wherever he desired—threatened to push him to the brink too soon.
    Would she always be this accommodating? How would she handle her new reality? As he nibbled at the now hard nubs, he didn’t care—it didn’t matter. What mattered was how he’d handle it. She would be as accommodating as he wanted... her penance for the sins of her forefathers.
    Supporting himself above her petite frame, he lingered in the aftershocks of their merger, contemplating his acquisition. Each time his hips moved, her body responded in sync. He could stay like this for hours, but that would need to wait, for another day. Smiling, he considered all the “another days” they had in their future. Not wanting to move away, Tony peered down to see her eyes part in that not quite open, not quite shut, satisfied gaze. He offered, “Can I get you a drink or something to eat?”
    “I really don’t think I want you to move.”
    “Oh?” he cooed, as he teased her with each gyration. “Are you sure? Maybe some more wine.”
    “Now, Anthony, I think it’s pretty obvious, you don’t need to get me drunk.”
    “Who said anything about drunk? I just don’t want you to dehydrate.”
    Claire smiled as he slowly eased himself from the bed. Reaching for the glass, he added, “I mean—if you’re willing to stay, I’d like to make a