In the grand scheme of things, I tell myself, breathing deeply, three days isn’t even that long. Especially compared to the amount of time I’ve already spent in Stonehart’s manor. But still… it’s frustrating. More so because it began on the first day I earned the freedom to roam the house.
I exit the shower and get dressed. My movements are jerky and sharp, fitting my mood. I keep my head high for the cameras. I will not let Stonehart see me self-conscious.
I apply a light brushing of makeup, do my hair as best as I can, and settle on a beautiful red dress that hugs my body in all the right places. Together with the four-inch black stilettos, I’m dressed to kill.
It’s funny what the illusion of freedom can do to your psyche. I know I’m not actually free. However, walking down the hall, showered and dressed, makes me feel so much stronger than I did when I was trapped in bed. I’m more resolute than ever to show Stonehart who I really am. I will not pretend to be weak any more.
I don’t know how long it’ll take me to undo the damage already done. I intend to counter it with every fiber of my being.
When I enter the dining room, I find Stonehart already seated. For a fleeting moment, panic flashes through me as I think I’m late. Stonehart made it clear how important punctuality is to him that night at the restaurant.
However, a quick glance at the clock on the wall shows me that there are still two minutes left before seven.
Stonehart makes no indication that he’s heard me. He’s focused completely on a black tablet in his hands, oblivious to my presence. His brow is furrowed in concentration. A line of something akin to displeasure creases his forehead.
I sit across from Stonehart and wait, my back straight, for him to deign it time to acknowledge me.
As soon as the minute hand hits twelve, Stonehart puts the tablet down. He looks at me.
His eyes sweep over my body. He takes in my face, my neck, my shoulders. His gaze lingers for a long moment on my breasts. I fight the urge to fidget under his stare.
But, after a moment, I realize that I don’t even feel the need to shy away. Let him look. His eyes can’t hurt me.
Stonehart’s gaze returns to mine. His expression is blank, impossible to read. I can’t even tell if he’s pleased, annoyed, pissed off, or agitated. He has an amazing poker face. I’d imagine it has served him well many times in the past.
Finally, a small smile breaks the impasse. “If you can make yourself look like that in under an hour,” he says, “I can’t imagine what you could do if I gave you the proper amount of time.”
A little thrill shoots through me at the complimentary words. I don’t let it show.
Instead, I acknowledge him with a slight tilt of my head. “Thank you, Jeremy.”
He drums his fingers on the table as he looks at me. “Now,” he says, “there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for the longest time. I wasn’t quite sure how to break the news.”
I pick up the flute of water and take a delicate sip. “Oh?”
“You remember, of course, the progression of your freedoms?”
“Naturally,” I say.
“First, I want to reinforce the notion that any TGBs that you’ve been given will not be taken away. They are yours by right, Lilly. I want you to know that.”
It sickens me how easily I can consider TGBs without feelings of disgust, given that they are very real reminders of my imprisonment. “Thank you, Jeremy.”
“You’re welcome. Now, the thing I wanted to speak to you about has to do with your tokens, in a way. That is, it has to do with the freedoms your TGBs earn. You remember, I assume, that twenty-five tokens will grant you the ability to attend public outings at my side?”
“I do.”
“Well, there’s a problem with that, Lilly,” he begins. My insides fill with dread. “At the end of the month, there is a private gala that I’ve been invited to attend. It benefits the Children’s Make a Wish Foundation. Stonehart Industries is one of the largest sponsors of the group.”
“For tax purposes, I presume?” I say before I can stop myself.
Stonehart’s eyes narrow. A sliver of anger shows behind them. “No,” he says testily. “No, Lilly. You’ll find that some endeavors I undertake for reasons of true altruism.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I mutter, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from my voice. He dares talk to me about altruism?
“Yes,” Stonehart says. I see him fighting to keep the displeasure from his face. “Anyway, Lilly, the gala is the first event I want to bring you to. That means you have just under thirty days to earn twenty TGBs. I expect the utmost effort from you to fulfill that task.”
My mind spins. If I get twenty-five, it means I’ll be halfway to earning my full freedom.
Would he really give me so many in a month?
Then again, Stonehart is the only person who can actually distribute them. He wants to take me to a public gathering with him? I can already think of a dozen things that can go wrong there. For him, and for me.
It’s a risk. I assume he won’t let me leave his side. But, at the same time, if there’s any chance to slip away, I’ll have to take it.
He interrupts my thoughts and speaks as if he’s read my mind.
“Assuming you do manage to earn sufficient TGBs,” he says, “be warned that certain… precautions… will be taken to ensure full compliance with my set of rules for leaving the house.” He leans back in his seat. “But. That is still a long way off. There is no point troubling ourselves by speaking of them this early.” He inclines his head and looks at me from under the arch of his brows. “As we both know, Lilly, a lot can change over the course of one month.”
I see movement to my side, and look over to find a young man standing at the entrance to the dining room. His head is lowered. He is holding a circular tray full of steaming dishes.
Stonehart notices him, too, and beckons him forward with a quick motion of the fingers. The young man sets the tray down and distributes the food between us, keeping his eyes on the floor. He does not look my way once.
Only after he leaves, and our dinner is set out in front of us, do I ask Stonehart, “What happened to Rose?”
He clicks his tongue. “Really, Lilly,” he says in a pitying sort of way. “Have you forgotten the third rule already?”
I don’t back down. “It was an innocent question,” I say.
“But a question nonetheless.” He glances up at me. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are trying to test the boundaries of my patience.”
“I still have to know what I am and am not allowed to do.”
“You signed the contract. Things haven’t changed.”
“And so far, I’ve lived up to that document, haven’t I?” I challenge.
He raises his eyebrows. “Another question?”
“A rhetorical one.”
Stonehart chuckles. “Very well, Lilly. I can see you weren’t disingenuous when you said you got some thinking done. This is the type of behavior I’ve expected from you all along.”
“That sounds an awful lot like another compliment,” I say, knowing full well that I’m pushing my luck.
“Maybe it is,” Stonehart considers. “Before we eat, however, I’d like to ask you a question, if I may?”
“You don’t need my permission.”
“No. You’re right.” A small smile plays on his lips. “But the pretense of civility can go a long way in certain situations, I’ve found.”
I bite my tongue to stop a snarky retort from coming out. Instead, I just nod.
“All right, Lilly, here it is: Why you?”
I wait for him to add something else. When he does not, I shake my head. “ ‘Why me’ what?”
“Why do you think that all of this—” he sweeps his arms around us to encompass the whole room, “—is happening to you? Why are you the one sitting across from me right now, and not some other woman?”
I open my mouth to say that I hav
en’t the foggiest idea, but he stalls me by holding up one finger.
“Think carefully before you speak, Lilly-flower.” His voice has taken on a dangerous undercurrent. “We’re about to enter murky waters.”
My insides squirm as if a family of worms has taken up residence there. Stonehart looks at me from across the table. His features are calm. But I can tell this is one of his expert poker faces. The warning he’s given me makes his question more ominous than it sounded at first.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. Stonehart’s eyes haven’t moved from me. I feel like I’m being scrutinized by his most domineering gaze.
“Please,” he says softly. “Don’t insult either of our intelligences. I know some things that we do are an act.” He emphasizes the word by almost hissing it. “This dinner, for example. But there is a reason for maintaining a semblance of normality in our relationship. Why do you think that is?”
“Uh—”
“Again,” Stonehart says, “think carefully before you answer. If you recall, I told you once that I want your mind.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Prove to me that you’re still the person I met that day.”
I swallow the newly-formed lump in my throat. Something about the path of this conversation is making me very uneasy.
But, I told myself that I would act like the woman I am, didn’t I? I already decided that I need to keep my backbone around him. I can’t pretend that I’m not a prisoner. But, that doesn’t mean I have to act differently from when I was free.
That seals my resolve. I take a deep breath, and answer in a strong, clear voice.
“I think that you’re trying to acclimate me to your presence. You want me to let my guard down around you.”
A genuine smile spreads across his lips. “Very good, Lilly. I knew the woman I first met was still in there, somewhere. Excellent. You’re exactly right. And the sooner both of us acknowledge the need for this type of pretense, the sooner we can move past it.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “I’m your—employee.” The word feels dirty on my tongue. “I signed a contract that you drafted and I am bound to it.”
“Correct,” he says.
“Then I don’t see that there is anything for us to move past.” My hand twitches up to touch my collar. Halfway there, I transition the motion into an awkward sweeping of hair away from my forehead. “I’m fulfilling my obligation to you. That’s all you can expect from me.”
Stonehart’s eyes glitter. “Really, Lilly?” he asks softly. “You truly think that is all I am expecting from you?”
“It’s all you’ve made me privy to. Are you insinuating that there’s something more?”
“There’s always something more,” he murmurs. “In everything we do. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”
I choke on the water I’m sipping. Matters of the heart?
“A figure of speech, Lilly.” Stonehart chuckles when he sees my reaction. “Not to be taken literally. Although it’s refreshing to see that I can still provoke that kind of response from you.”
“Yes, well…” I sputter, feeling decidedly off-balance for the first time during this whole dinner.
“No matter,” he says. “There are more important things for us to discuss. Getting back to the first topic of conversation: Why is it that you are here, and not somebody else?”
“That’s the question I’ve been asking myself the whole time,” I mutter under my breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “I don’t know. Luck?”
Without warning, Stonehart throws his head back and starts to laugh.
It offends me.
“Luck?” he chortles. “Luck? No, Lilly, it wasn’t luck, although I can see how it might look that way to you. Bad luck for you, and good luck for me. Is that it?”
I press my lips together and don’t answer. We’ve never addressed the topic of my capture. No matter my new resolve, I feel like it’s a dangerous topic to bring up.
Better to avoid it completely, for now.
Stonehart brings his untouched wineglass to his lips. When he sets it down, he peers at me with a new intensity.
“Our lives are defined by our actions, Lilly. Luck is a fallacy for the weak of mind and will. Luck is what those people who cannot own their actions point to when considering the success or failure of their lives. It is what the sheep cling to when discussing the meteoric rise to power of people like me.
“No, Lilly, it was not luck that brought you here.” He sneers when he emphasizes the word. “It was concentrated effort and pure power of will. Think back to the circumstances that brought you to California. Think, and tell me how you ended up in my home.”
Think. Well, it all started with the Barker Prize, didn’t it? That’s what got me the recognition needed for the consulting firms to start recruiting me.
Stonehart can’t be thinking of that. I’ve never told him, for one. It was also an award exclusive to Yale, for another. And he is a Wharton alumni—
Wait. I’ve never considered it before. Wharton and Yale are both Ivy League schools. There is a connection there… a connection between our lives… that I hadn’t seen.
Could it be more than coincidence? Was there something more sinister at work when I got the prize?
Stonehart’s eyes are boring into me. Even though he’s all the way across the table, it makes me uncomfortable.
“You’re not answering, Lilly.”
“It was… a fluke,” I say. If I hadn’t written and thrown out that essay, if Robin hadn’t found it, I would have never been in a position for Stonehart to catch me.
“Really?” His voice lowers to a dangerous octave. “You really think it was fluke that brought you here? After everything I’ve just told you about luck?”
A most uncomfortable shiver runs down my spine. “Are you suggesting…” I begin, but choke on the words before I can continue. I clear my throat and try again. “Are you insinuating,” I manage in a whisper, “that you had something to do with it?”
The suggestion pleases him. He leans back in his seat and spreads his arms. “Of course I am,” he says, triumphant.
My heart locks up in my chest. For a few moments, it forgets to beat.
“It was you?” I muster.
“ZilTech is a subsidiary of Stonehart Industries, Lilly. Surely you know that. What you don’t know—what only a handful of people alive do—is that Stonehart Industries also owns Corfu Consulting.”
The room spins. All the objects in my vision swim around me with dizzying speed. I feel faint, like I’m on the verge of passing out.
Corfu Consulting. Corfu Consulting was the boutique firm that hired me. They were the ones I flew out to California for. They’re the ones who offered me that life-changing contract that made me take a leave of absence from Yale.
They are the ones I thought would help me achieve true autonomy over my life.
“I see you’ve made the connection.” Stonehart’s soft voice pulls me back to the present. I look at him, unbelievably flustered, and for the worst kind of reasons.
“How?” I whisper. “How?” All sorts of new feelings burst to life inside me, all directed at the man dominating my vision. They are punctuated by a new breed of loathing, sprinkled with hate, and tinged by the dark currents of disbelief.
“Questions for another day, those,” he says nonchalantly, cutting into his steak. He brings a piece to his mouth and begins to chew. “You’re looking quite white, Lilly. I suggest some food. You’re going to need it for the activities I have planned for us tonight.”
Chapter Three
The rest of dinner passes in a flash. Stonehart does not attempt to make small talk, and I am fine with silence.
I need to think.
He’s lying, the voice of reason whispers in my ear. He doesn’t own Corfu Consulting. He’s just saying it to screw with your head.
But what if he’s not? A second, more sinister voice
counters. What if he’s actually telling the truth?
That’s the notion that frightens me. If Stonehart is telling the truth, it opens the door to a whole host of uncomfortable possibilities and questions.
For example: How long has he been watching me?
His hints and suggestions make it seem like my kidnapping was not a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was something that has been in the works for a long time.
Again, why? How? What interest can I possibly hold for a man like Stonehart?
I won’t believe that I’m just a random girl he decided to do this to. I won’t. Not after his derisive dismissal of luck. Stonehart is not a man who leaves anything to chance.
I sneak a glance up at him. His jaw muscles tighten every time he bites down on his food. The sleeves of his crisp, white dress shirt are rolled up to reveal the powerful, dancing muscles of his forearms. He does not notice me looking. If he does, he chooses not to acknowledge it.
I look over the handsome features of his face.
Who could have imagined the type of monster that lurks beneath that mask?
He’s cold. Calculating. Power-hungry. Those are all the traits that have made him spectacularly successful in life.
They are also the traits that make him such a formidable opponent.
His eyes flash up. Immediately, I pull my gaze away.
Who is he? Who is Stonehart, really? His whole existence is shrouded in shadows and mystery. I haven’t come any closer to deciphering him now than I was the first day I woke up here.
I think I have a partial understanding of what he was like as a boy, though. He told me the story himself: He was neglected and ignored in favor of his brothers. He grew up loathing his father.
Is that the type of upbringing that gave birth to the monster? When he told me the story of his childhood, he made it sound like he did not have an iota of love directed at him.
In spite of myself—in spite of everything—my heart goes out to the small boy he’d once been. My own relationship with my mother fell apart a few years after she started drinking. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have any fond memories of her. We were always poor, always on the move, and yet, when I was just a little girl, we always had each other.
Uncovering You 3: Resistance (Uncovering You, #3) Page 2