Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set)

by Edwards, Scarlett

  So, honestly, the phone does not offer much. If anything, it’s just a stark reminder of how much control Jeremy has over my life.

  But, it’s nothing I could have imagined holding in my hands even a month ago. For that, I’m grateful. This is definite progress.

  Obviously, phone calls made to Fey would need to be scheduled in advance. That’s the only way to ensure Jeremy’s availability. I would need to arrange them to work with his schedule.

  All in all, it means that my new cellphone is little more than a pretty, expensive paper weight. And an alarm clock. Jeremy pointed that out with a knowing glimmer in his eyes.

  At least now I can keep track of the dates. I bring up the calendar and see that today is January 16th.

  As soon as we get into the limo, Jeremy has his earpiece on and begins making calls. I listen with half an ear. Being privy to just one side of conversation does not give me sufficient context to make use of anything I might hear. Besides, I doubt Jeremy would let slip anything he wouldn’t want me to know.

  Instead, I look out the window at the passing traffic. It feels strange to be back in California. So much has changed in the course of the last few weeks. And yet, so much is still ever the same.

  I remain bound to Jeremy. Whether by force of the illegitimate contract or by my own need to be there, it doesn’t matter. Our lives are inexplicably linked far, far into the future.

  Eventually, we pull up at the estate. When I left by myself, I was so excited to be off the property that I never bothered looking back at it. But now, as we wait for the gates to open, I can see it in all its glory.

  Even from the street, it looks magnificent—almost like a conservation area. The black gate is linked up to a high brick fence that disappears into the shrubbery. I see the tops of all the trees inside and remember just how big the property is. The sense of size is magnified as the limo snakes its way through the twisting lane that leads to the mansion.

  We stop at the front. It’s already dark. All the lights in the house are on. They shine through the open windows making it look like one of those designer properties featured in glossy real estate magazines.

  I half expect to see Rose standing on the threshold, waiting to greet us. She doesn’t show, however. When Jeremy steps out of the limousine, opens the trunk, and takes out our bags, I feel surprised. Simon, our driver, comes around to help with the rest.

  I look to see if there’s something I can help carry. Between the two of them, the men have a firm handle on things.

  Simon sets the bags down at the front door and wishes us both goodnight. Jeremy takes out a key and unlocks the door.

  “Have you missed this place?” he asks me.

  “Only a little,” I reply. To be honest, I thought that returning to the mansion would fill me with disgust. But stepping through the front doors does feel a little like coming home.

  We enter the lobby. The inside is scary silent. The air is cool and fresh.

  Our footsteps echo down the length of the halls. They are amplified by the sheer depth of the mansion.

  I look at Jeremy. “Where’s Rose?” I ask him.

  “I told her not to wait for us,” he says. “When we returned from our trip, I wanted it to be just you and me, and no one else.”

  “Oh,” I say. That sentiment can be perceived in so many different ways. And honestly, right now, I’m too tired to decide on which. “I see.”

  I start to reach for the two bags the driver left, but Jeremy interrupts me by taking my hand. “Leave them,” he says. “Rose will see to them tomorrow.”

  “I have some of my things in there,” I say. “I want to lay them out in the sunroom for the morning.”

  “The sunroom?” Jeremy laughs. It’s a rich, rumbling sound that I can’t help but fall victim to. “No, Lilly. You’re not going to be spending any more time in that pit. From now on, you’re sleeping in my bed. With me.”

  “Oh.” That’s actually a surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I’m bound by the deal you arranged on the plane,” he says, his eyes glinting. “But you know the reason why. Come.” He takes my hand. “Let me pour us some wine. To celebrate coming home, and to commemorate the occasion.”

  “Occasion?” I ask. “What occasion is that?”

  “The day of your arrival in my home. Not as a prisoner. Not as a hostage.” He spins me into him and holds me tight. “But as an equal.”

  ***

  I fall asleep at the dinner table shortly after having the wine. It’s a poor showing on my part. I can tell Jeremy had different expectations for the night… especially since it marked the transition to my sleeping in his bed. He’d want to christen it, after all.

  But he does not complain, or stew over it. In fact, he acts like a sweetheart, tucking his arms under me and carrying me upstairs to his room. I look up at him as he sets me down on the bed. It might be the alcohol, or it might be my halfway, sleepy state, but right now, I think, that if he tells me he loves me… I wouldn’t protest that much.

  True to his word, however, he does no such thing. After making sure I’m comfortable, he leans down and kisses my forehead.

  “Sleep tight, my sweet Lilly-flower,” he whispers softly. “Tomorrow it’s back to reality for both of us.”

  The implications of those words have no time to sink in before I close my eyes and succumb to a deep and wonderful sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  When I come to the next morning, it takes me an extra second to orient myself. When I finally do, and realize that I’m sleeping in Jeremy’s room, in Jeremy’s mansion, all the feelings that have been building inside since his pronouncement come crashing down on me.

  “Love.” He really means that, doesn’t he? Try to deny it as I will, I can’t just make it go away. It’s not something that can be swept under the rug. Knowing now, when I look at him, that I’m staring into the eyes of the person who has such strong feelings for me shifts the dynamics between us.

  I know he doesn’t expect me to love him back. He can’t. He’s a logical, calculating man. It’d be unreasonable to have such expectations knowing everything that he’s done to me.

  But it makes me uneasy. Somewhere, deep down, I have this niggling sense of… not guilt, exactly, but… pressure. Pressure that weighs me down. Pressure that feels like it won’t relent until I admit that his feelings are not one-sided.

  I roll over and stuff my head under the pillow. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I can never love Jeremy. Never. Not with all that he’s guilty of. Not for the things he’s done to me, to my father.

  I’m alone in the bedroom. I get up, go to the bathroom, and splash water on my face. When I’m there, I catch a lingering hint of Jeremy’s smell. The top of the mirror still has a tiny screen of condensation on it. He’d gotten out of the shower recently. I know he has to go to work, but maybe he’s still home?

  I run out of the room, to the hall, and lean out over the railing. Maybe it’s knowing I spent a peaceful night with him, in his house, for the first time ever, maybe it’s that amazing scent that does all sorts of things to my insides, I’m not sure. But, whatever it is, I want to see Jeremy.

  “Jeremy?” I call out. “Jeremy, are you still here?”

  I strain my ears in eager anticipation of his reply. Instead, a different voice greets me… though one that is no less familiar.

  “Mr. Stonehart left for the office about ten minutes ago, Miss Ryder.” I spin around and see Rose walking towards me. “I’m afraid to say that you just missed him.”

  “Rose!” I exclaim, and rush over to wrap my arms around her. I might not get Jeremy this morning, but seeing Rose is the next best thing.

  “Oh!” she grunts as we collide. She pats my back. “I’ve missed you too, my dear,” she says.

  I release her and step away. So much has happened in those last few weeks that somehow, I expected Rose to look different.

  Nope. She is the same as ever, in that black-and-white
maid’s uniform and gray bun of hair atop her head. It’s almost shocking to see her exactly as before.

  A sudden stab of guilt pinches my stomach. Am I more excited to see Rose than I was to see Fey?

  “You look wonderful with a tan,” Rose says. She brings her hands up and touches my hair. “And the sun has lightened your hair.” She gives a coy smile. “No wonder Mr. Stonehart kept you there an extra week.”

  I blush suddenly, and then giggle. Maybe the reason I’m so excited to see Rose is because I don’t need to pretend to be anyone but who I am with her. I don’t need to watch how I act, or what I say. I can be… well, free.

  And freedom is a concept of the highest importance to me.

  Without warning, Rose’s good cheer disappears. She frowns a little, and then narrows her eyes.

  “What?” I say, still holding the smile on my face. “Rose, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She shakes her head and looks away. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “Just surprised a little. That’s all.”

  “Surprised?” I crane my neck to the side. “By what?”

  Rose shakes her head again. “It’s… nothing.” She clears throat. Her eyes dart to the spot she’d once shown me which contained a hidden camera. “Nothing.” I get another smile. “Come,” she says, taking my hand. “Charles has breakfast ready for you, and I’m dying to hear about your trip.”

  ***

  Over a delicious breakfast of waffles and fruit, I recount to Rose everything that happened post-Portland. I don’t mention Paul, or the revelation that he is my father. If Rose knows about him, so be it. But I’m not about to volunteer that information yet.

  Something’s changed in Rose’s demeanor, though. She tries to hide it, tries to be as she is usually, but she seems… nervous. A tad uneasy. She smiles and nods while I speak, commenting at all the right places. But, her eyes are constantly shifting. She squirms in her seat when she looks at me, almost as if she’s in the same room with a languid cobra. If she remains still and doesn’t disturb it, there won’t be any trouble… but one wrong, sudden move, and it will strike.

  I can’t take the subtle-but-growing discomfort any longer. I should feel like I’m connecting with her as I recount my trip, not drifting farther apart.

  I stop my story right before the night of the gala. I put my fork down, “Okay, Rose,” I say. “Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Miss Ryder,” she says, too quickly. It’s almost as if she’d been expecting the question. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

  “Well, for one, you’re as fidgety as a choir girl before the priest. Did something happen while I was away?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “Things are the same as ever here. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Something’s changed,” I press. She flinches slightly, and looks away.

  “There, see!” I exclaim, pointing right at her. “You did it again. Is it Charles? Did something happen between the two of you?”

  “No,” she says, folding her hands into her lap. Then, without warning, she stands up.

  “I just remembered,” she starts. “I left the washing machine running, and I need to…”

  “Sit down, Rose,” I say. I don’t know where such assertiveness has come from. Maybe it’s a by-product of spending so much time with Jeremy. “I know for a fact you don’t have anywhere to go. Besides, you can’t run from me. We’re both in the same house together. If you really have to do the laundry—” I stand as well, “—then I’ll go with you.”

  “Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head. She looks really nervous now. “Mr. Stonehart would be very angry with me if I let you do any chores.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying!” I say, exasperated. “And since when have you been frightened of Jeremy? From what he said, you were the one who forced him to release me from the dark.”

  “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She dry washes her hands. I have never seen Rose so discomfited.

  “Oh, come on,” I say, incredulous now. “You live on Jeremy’s property. I’ve seen you in the guesthouse with Charles. It’s obvious both of you are tied to Jeremy in ways I don’t even know. Why else would he trust you with so much of himself? You told me once that Jeremy doesn’t entertain here—that he has an apartment in the city for that. I know you’re more than just a housekeeper, Rose. You have to be. Jeremy wouldn’t have kept you around for twenty years if you weren’t.”

  “Would you stop calling him that!” Rose exclaims. I jump in surprise. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her raise her voice.

  “What?” I say quickly regaining my composure. “Jeremy? That’s his name, isn’t it?”

  “Not to you,” she hisses. “He’s not Jeremy. He’s Mr. Stonehart. Mr. Stonehart, and nothing else. Do you hear me?” She jabs a finger at me. “Do you understand?”

  Then she catches herself. Her eyes go wide. Both hands whip up to cover her mouth.

  Without another word, she spins back and runs out of the room.

  I stare after her, speechless. What the hell was that all about?

  I listen as her rapid footsteps fade from hearing. I don’t follow, even though I want to. She needs time to cool down, first.

  But I definitely have to get to the bottom of things.

  She’d been so compassionate, so caring, so understanding toward me before. Yet now, it’s as if she sees me as a different person.

  I start towards the kitchen to find Charles. Maybe he’ll be willing to talk to me.

  I stop halfway there. I’d forgotten Charles is deaf. And though I’m sure he can read my lips, I don’t know sign language. Would he be willing to speak—can he speak? Or is he mute, as well?

  Well, I figure there’s no time like the present to find out. It would be good to at least say hello.

  I wander through the vast space. Once or twice, I catch myself ready to call his name before stopping short. He wouldn’t be able to hear me. Still, it feels like the natural thing to do when looking for someone.

  The kitchen, as always, looks absolutely pristine. The stainless steel appliances all gleam in the morning sun, and there’s not a smudge of dirt anywhere. The countertops are clean, the sink is empty. In short, it looks like a show room.

  I wonder what Charles does when he’s not cooking. I mean, it can’t take that much to prepare meals for just one man. One woman, too--if I were to count myself.

  There has to be more to the Rose-Charles-Jeremy triangle than what I know. Has to. I’ve always suspected it. Only now, without the collar, do I find myself in a strong enough position to find out.

  Wait. I take in a sharp breath. The collar. The missing collar. That’s what threw Rose off!

  I think back to when she first greeted me by the railing. She commented on my tan, on my hair. Her eyes dropped to my neck… and that’s when she started acting strange.

  A newfound determination pulses through me as I resume my search. Every time Rose broke eye contact in the dining room, I thought she was glancing at the floor. Only now do I realize that what she was actually doing was glancing… at my neck.

  Holy shit! That means she did know! The lying cow! She knew everything Jeremy was doing to me the entire time!

  And she dared to fake sympathy? She dared to act like she had no clue about my captivity?

  The betrayal stings more than anything Jeremy did. She wasn’t just a passive, unwitting housekeeper. The whole time, she was actually working with Jeremy. Working with the man who was keeping me prisoner.

  Hell! They probably conspired on the whole good-cop, bad-cop thing.

  Anger builds inside me. At Rose, and at Jeremy. He’d arranged the whole thing with her so that I would think I had a friend. He’d arranged it all with her so that I would think I have an accomplice.

  At least Jeremy was up front about everything he’s done to me. Only Rose was cowardly enough to feign ignorance.

  Fuck! It mean
s my initial suspicions about her were right. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I should have trusted my gut. I should never have fallen victim to my need for a friend, a confidant, someone I could trust—or, whom I thought I could trust—when in reality, that person was the one I needed to watch out for most.

  Knowing as much as I do about Jeremy, I am sure he would have had everything about my imprisonment planned, down to the most infinitesimal detail. Of course he wouldn’t allow some random housekeeper to know about me, to communicate with me, after going through such pains to control every other facet of my being.

  That is the only way Rose’s change in attitude this morning makes any sense. She saw me without the collar and freaked out, because… because…

  Because Jeremy never warned her.

  He never intended to take the collar off on the trip. He’s deviated from his plan. And Rose wasn’t expecting that.

  I stop again. Fuck! I need a drink! I look around the kitchen, searching for a bottle of scotch, or wine, or something strong enough to steady my nerves. I’ve never been a big drinker—obviously not, going through what I did with my mother. However, time spent with Jeremy at the villa, with the abundance of wine, seems to have whet my appetite for liquor.

  I find what I’m looking for in the top shelf of an enormous cabinet. I’m not tall enough to reach the row of bottles, however. I think of the bar in the basement, right beside the pool, and consider trekking down there instead—when the sound of movement makes me turn my head.

  Speak of the devil. It’s Charles, walking into the kitchen, carrying a full crate of frozen meat.

  He stops when he sees me. A look of surprise flashes along his face, and then he smiles wide.

  “Lilly,” he says after a moment. “It is good to see you.”

  His voice is thick and he speaks very slowly. The pronunciation of syllables is off enough that it takes me a few extra seconds to make out the words. He speaks a tad too loudly.