Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set)

by Edwards, Scarlett

  But at least he does speak! I beam at him in excitement, all need for a drink forgotten. Finally, I have someone else to talk to, someone else who knows the goings-on of the Stonehart estate from the inside!

  “Charles!” I exclaim. “You’re just the person I wanted to see.” I look down at the crate. “Why do you have so much meat?”

  He smiles at me, then shakes his head, and points to his lips. “I have to see your mouth to understand you,” he says. It sounds like he’s talking through a mouthful of soup.

  I hit the side of my head and feel like an idiot. Well, duh.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, brushing my hair aside to give him a clear view of my face. “I said I’m very happy to see you. I wanted to thank you for a wonderful breakfast.”

  He stands tall at the praise. “It was nothing,” he tells me. “It is a pleasure to cook for a beauty like you.”

  This time, it’s my turn to blush at the compliment. I give him a shy smile and run a hand through my hair.

  “Did you come in here looking for something?” he asks me. He looks at the open cabinet behind me, evidence of my liquor search. “Those,” he says, his eyes glinting with mirth, “are all cooking wines.”

  Cooking wine. Cooking wine! Of course the kitchen would be stocked with cooking wine, and not real drinks.

  “Or are you still hungry?” he continues. “Jeremy told me of the provisions about your weight, but…” he winks at me, “…I think I can make an exception. This time, for you, if you can keep a secret.”

  “There are enough secrets going around without us adding to them,” I mutter under my breath.

  Charles clears his throat. “Sorry?” he asks.

  I shake my head and speak clearly. “Nothing. You call him Jeremy, too?”

  “Of course.” Charles frowns. “He calls me Charles, and I call him Jeremy. Why would anything else make sense?”

  “So he’s not Mr. Stonehart?”

  Charles’s eyebrows go up. And then, he begins to laugh. It’s a bit of a strange sound, coming from a deaf man. Somehow, its sheer honesty is comforting. I start to smile.

  “Oh, no,” he tells me. “No, no. I’ve known the lad since he was just a child, no taller than my knee.” He holds a hand parallel to the ground at knee-level. “He was little Jeremy then, and even though he’s grown much since…” Charles’s hand slowly moves up until it’s hovering above his head, “He will always be little Jeremy to me.”

  He winks again. “But do not tell him I mentioned that. He hates to be called little anything.”

  I stare at Charles in amazement. He knew Jeremy when he was a kid? That means he watched him grow, saw him when he was still under his father’s influence. Hell, it means he knew him longer than Rose!

  And he is so unguarded about it. Is Charles the treasure trove of information I need? Is he the one I’ve been looking for to give me an unfiltered, unabridged look at Jeremy Stonehart’s history?

  “Charles,” I say carefully. “If I ask you a question, would you be willing to answer honestly?”

  “Honesty is what I prefer,” he tells me. “So I will do my best. What would you like to know? Where I keep the sugar cookies, maybe?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s something simple: How did you come under Jeremy’s employment?”

  Charles looks affronted. “That is what you had to preface by asking for the truth? I’d be happy to tell you all I know of Jeremy.” He makes a wide, arcing gesture above his head with both hands. “You have been with us long enough that I do not think you will be running anywhere. Employment, you want to know? That is easy. He hired me away from his father.”

  His father. Oh my God, will I finally learn about the man who had such influence, such sway, over Jeremy Stonehart?

  “You knew his father?” I ask, astonished. “What was his name? What was he like?”

  “Ah,” Charles spreads his hands and offers an apologetic look. “That is one thing I have been told not to speak about. Jeremy does not like reminders of his life before he crafted this—” Charles motions around the monstrous kitchen, “—for himself. I am sorry, Lilly.”

  “That’s okay,” I say weakly. Damn, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “What can you tell me about Jeremy, then? Was he always so…” I search for the right word. “… Domineering?”

  “Oh, no,” Charles chuckles. “He was definitely not always like this. Everything changed the first year he went to college.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well,” Charles leans back against the countertop. “’Little Jeremy’ was his nickname growing up. Because he was the youngest. Do you know about his brothers?”

  I nod. “He told me.”

  “There were three boys, all together. His brothers were born just two years apart. They were inseparable, and brilliant. They were amazing sportsmen. They made their father very proud. In school, they got the highest grades. Anything they set their minds to, they accomplished.”

  “That sounds a lot like someone I know,” I say. “What were their names?”

  “Robert,” Charles says. “And Christopher. Robert was the oldest.”

  “And Jeremy?” I ask. “How old were they when he was born?”

  Charles thinks for a moment. “Let’s see… I remember Robert’s acceptance into the prestigious prep school around the time Jeremy was born. So that would have made him… thirteen? Fourteen? Somewhere around there?”

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s quite an age difference.”

  “It is,” Charles agrees. “That’s what started the nickname. It was used lovingly at first. But, I remember, as they all grew up in the same house… it gained more and more scorn.”

  “Why?” I ask. “I know Jeremy did not get along with his brothers or father. But I don’t know why that was.”

  Charles hesitates. “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he hedges.

  “Oh, come on,” I pout. I like Charles. I like his unassuming attitude. His honesty is a breath of fresh air. I also think he likes me. So, I play up that angle. “Please?” I beg.

  He looks around the room. “Okay,” he finally nods. “But you must promise not a word of this gets to Rose. If she finds out what I’m saying…”

  “My lips are sealed.” I make a zipping motion across them. “I swear. This’ll be between me and you.” I pause, remembering something. “But… you do know about the cameras. Right?”

  “It is not Jeremy I am worried about,” Charles says, shaking his head. “Besides, there are no cameras in here.”

  I blink. “What?”

  He smiles. “A chef requires complete privacy to master his creations. Otherwise, how would I be able to surprise you with my cooking?”

  “You’re serious?” I say, feeling super skeptical. “There are really no cameras in here?” I remember Rose pausing not five feet away from where we stand and glancing to the corner of the ceiling, the time she gave me my first tour of the house.

  “Well, okay,” Charles corrects. “Maybe there are cameras. For security, at night. But when I am working, they are never on.” He steps away from the counter and motions for me to follow. “Would you like to see?”

  “See what?”

  “The tapes,” he says casually. He beckons me after him. “Come.”

  We walk toward an unassuming corner of the room. There’s a pantry door there. Charles stops in front of it, gives me a wink, and pulls it open.

  The inside is… stocked with groceries. I look at him, confused. But then he leans in, feels around the edge for something, and a moment later, the back wall is splitting in two. The hum of a motor fills the air.

  Through the back is a much smaller version of the command center I found in Jeremy’s bedroom. I get shivers as I remember the punishment I endured for having gone in there without his permission.

  Charles looks at me with pride. “You can see everything from here.”

  He walks in. I hesitate a moment bef
ore following. This feels like a sort of transgression...

  Then I remember that I am not collared any longer. The “locked doors” rule might still stand, but I am not breaking it. The door is open. Charles invited me in.

  The screens flicker to life and I see the entire mansion: The outside yard. The bedrooms. My old bathroom.

  I stop short. If Charles has access to that… does it mean that he has seen me naked? Has he seen everything that Jeremy has done?

  He notices me staring at the screen of the sunroom. “Do not worry, Lilly,” he says. “Certain feeds are programmed to turn off when they detect a person in the room. The bedroom, for one.” He points at Jeremy’s bed. “And the bathrooms, and closets. I do not spy.”

  I look at him… and find that I believe him. Charles has such an honest face. It’d be hard to imagine him lying to me.

  “My access is restricted to certain hours, as well,” he continues. “Jeremy can tell when I am here. It’s all quite safe, I assure you.

  “Now… let me see.” He taps the keyboard keys. “Look at the main screen, please.”

  I do. All the others turn off, and the video feeds collect on the big one. Charles points to one showing the kitchen, “Do you see that?” He asks.

  “Yes,” I frown. “But it’s on. You said it’d be off.”

  He grins like a kid hiding a big secret. “Wait here,” he tells me.

  Then he rushes out the door, and stops right where we were talking before. He waves. “Do you see me?”

  I look back at the screen… and find it blank. The kitchen is empty. “It’s a freeze shot!” I exclaim.

  Charles runs back. He looks at me expectantly. Crap! I’d forgotten that he needs to see my lips to hear me speak. “I said that it’s a freeze shot,” I repeat.

  He smiles and puts a finger in the air. “Not quite,” he says. He points at the spinning kitchen fan. “It’s on a perpetual loop.”

  “So when we’re in there… when we’re talking… it’s really off the record?”

  Charles nods. “Yes.”

  We leave the pantry and go back to our previous spot. Charles starts unloading the meats. I bend down to help him, and am super grateful when he doesn’t protest.

  Sometimes, it feels good just to help another person out, and not to be waited on every second of every day.

  “So you were telling me about Jeremy’s brothers?” I remind him.

  “Right,” Charles says. “Robert and Christopher were the pride of the family. Jeremy… Jeremy was the black sheep. His brothers were tall and handsome. And he was--how do I say? Scrawny. Very… gaunt.”

  I blink. I can’t picture that of the man I know. “Really?” I ask.

  Charles nods. “He tried hard to be like his brothers. When he was old enough to understand what they did, he wanted to emulate them in everything. He looked up to them. Oh! How he looked up to them.”

  “When did that change?”

  “It changed,” Charles says, “when he came home.”

  I frown. “Came home? What do you mean?”

  “Jeremy has a learning disability,” Charles tells me.

  “What?” I’m shocked, taken aback. That can’t be right. Not the man I know.

  “You did not know?” Charles looks surprised. Then he chuckles. “Well, I guess you would not think it when you see him today.

  “Yes, Jeremy always struggled with speech. And with reading. Little Jeremy had a lisp, and a stutter. I could never tell, of course, but I know from others.”

  Whoa! This is way more information than I ever imagined I’d receive. Jeremy Stonehart, the man with possibly the sexiest voice on the planet, having a lisp? Jeremy Stonehart, having a stutter?

  If those are things he had to overcome… Jesus, it adds so much more depth to him. No wonder control is important. He’s had to learn to control his speech to make it sound the way it does.

  I bet it’s still a conscious process for him. What would it be like to have to think about every single word coming from your mouth, all the time? I remember him giving the speech at the Gala. He was so confident, so triumphant, so… very natural.

  But none of it was natural. At least, not to the boy Jeremy had once been.

  Knowing that makes my respect for him to grow just a little bit more.

  “His grades were poor. They were not the same as his brothers’. It frustrated him, obviously. But it also made him… an embarrassment… to his father. After half a year in middle school, Little Jeremy was pulled out. His father did not want the academic record to stain the family name. He was homeschooled from then on.”

  “And that’s when it began,” I say, half to myself.

  “Yes,” Charles says. “I think so. Because he was homeschooled, he could not participate in sports, either. He was never very athletic. But, Jeremy always had a big heart. He always gave it his all. And… there were other disadvantages he could not overcome. He did not have the size or grace of his brothers. Their achievements could never be reached.”

  I feel the puzzle pieces sliding into place. No wonder Jeremy spoke with so much malice of his brothers and father. No wonder he took such pride in taking them down.

  I can almost picture him now, not as Jeremy Stonehart, but as… as Little Jeremy. Always the one trying to match his brothers’ achievements. And always the one coming short.

  I know his father was successful. By the sound of it, he was a man who demanded the best. Growing up, Jeremy could not provide him that.

  So, he was raised by an unloving dad. Jeremy told me he’d been overlooked, time and time again. Now I know why. It was not just because he was younger. It was because he was deemed incapable, defective.

  How that must gnaw at a person? I can see those first seeds of determination taking root. Jeremy spoke to me about vengeance. But, it was more than that. He said that when he took over his father’s company in the courtroom, it was the most glorious day of his life.

  No wonder he can be so single-mindedly obsessive. No wonder he has such pride in who he is now. No wonder he has such determination. He really did rise up and create an empire for himself. And now I have a glimpse at the motivation.

  “You said things changed his first year in college?” I ask.

  “Oh,” Charles exhales. “That was a sight to see. When he left, he was just a little boy. But when he returned, a year later, he had become a man.

  “He hit a growth spurt while away. It must have added… six or seven inches to his height. I’ve never heard or seen such a transformation. I remember…” Charles chuckles, “… I remember always having to look down when I spoke to him. But when he returned, for the first time ever, I had to look up.”

  So Jeremy really was a late bloomer. That makes so much sense, too. It puts everything in perspective.

  “He was gangly and tall. But, I think, coming home that summer did something to him. I recall him arriving in the taxi. Only his mother came out to greet him. She was the only one to look out for him, you know.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “But I watched his arrival through the window. She gasped and ran to him when he stepped out of the car. I could hardly believe it was him. I mean, he had the face, but the boy was so transformed…”

  “I remember how proudly he walked into the house that day. The freedom of not having to live under his father’s criticism… the freedom of being away… must have done wonders for his psyche. He stood tall and proud, finally ready to be himself.”

  “I think,” Charles adds after a moment, “That Jeremy expected it to be more of a triumphant homecoming. What he got instead, was, well…”

  “What?” I press. “What happened next?”

  Charles looks at me. There is a meaningful glimmer in his eye. “You know,” he confides, “I have already told you so much more than I intended. It is probably more than I should. But I’ve never been able to resist the request of a pretty girl.”

  I blush, again, at the compliment. It sounds so sweet c
oming from him. There is no hidden motivation behind the words.

  “I will get in trouble for this,” he sighs. “But, sometimes, it is worth it. Jeremy came home looking to redeem himself in his father’s eyes. I know this,” Charles adds, “because he told me. He and I spoke a lot, especially when he began to learn sign language. After the accident.”

  “The one with his mother?” I ask. “What happened?”

  “That, I do not know. There is only one person alive who does. But even if I did,” Charles makes a motion of the cross, “I would not speak of it. It is wise to respect the dead.”

  I shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I decide it wise to change the subject. “So you and Jeremy were close? Are close?”

  “His father did not look kindly upon our friendship.” Charles says. “But yes. Little Jeremy spent plenty of time in the kitchen as a boy. He was always running around under my feet. And when he asked me to practice sign language with him, we began spending even more time together. You know,” Charles puts on a thoughtful face. “When I think of it, not once did Jeremy struggle with what I taught him. He picked it all up as if it were second nature.” Charles taps his lips. “I saw no signs of a learning disability.”

  “Perhaps he was more invested in learning,” I say. “It was for his mother’s benefit. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” Charles nods. “He was the only one of his brothers to learn.”

  My eyebrows go up. “Really?”

  Charles nods. “Robert and Christopher were already working with their father at that point. I assume they did not have the time.”

  “But Jeremy made time,” I say. So, despite everything I know about him, it seems family—or at least, one member of his family—was important to him. “You said the homecoming wasn’t quite what he expected. Why was that?”

  “Because his father continued to treat him the same as ever. It took only a few short days for Jeremy’s confidence to disappear. He was not proud anymore, no. He began walking with his shoulders slouched. Trying to look small. He looked… like he still felt very small.

  “He became deferential and meek. He was nothing at all like the proud young man who had stepped out of the taxi the first day.” Charles exhales wistfully. “It is all in the body language, you see? I might not be able to hear, but a person’s posture, the way he makes eye contact, how he positions himself during conversation… all of that, I can see. And Jeremy’s entire demeanor shifted to one of meekness in his first week home.”