Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set)

by Edwards, Scarlett

  She starts crying again. “Th-thank you. Thank you, Miss Ryder. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve your understanding or your…your sympathy.”

  “But you have it,” I assure her. “Only if you promise me one thing. Can you do that, Rose?”

  “I-I can try.”

  “Promise you won’t feel scared of me again. I might not know what keeps you here. But I’d much rather have you as a friend than as an enemy.”

  “I think—” She wipes her eyes, and smiles. “—I think that I can do that, for you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Even if I didn’t ever get a satisfactory answer from Rose, at least I now know where we stand.

  She and Jeremy have history. I wonder if it’s anything like mine. Twenty years is a long time to have known someone. Though I have no way of telling, I suspect that Rose did not spend two decades as a mere housekeeper.

  Also. While her breakdown today was certainly genuine, I do not think she is as fragile as she wants me to believe. Despite everything, there is a certain intelligence that she tries to mask. Maybe it’s her speech, or maybe it’s her general mannerisms, but I truly believe she was the benefactor of a good education. A ‘proper upbringing’, as she’d put it.

  That’s what makes the mystery of her presence so intimidating. She is not just a housekeeper, no. Jeremy turned her into one. He must have.

  How long has she been playing the role? The age difference between her and Jeremy is intriguing, too.

  The only person I’ll ever get answers from, however, is currently absent. Working, as I should be. He did not let me make the decision to stay home. He took it out of my hands.

  But I’m not being cooped up here like a teenager. Nothing says I have to stay on the property. In fact, today is the perfect day to get out of the house, and take advantage of the chauffeur Jeremy offered.

  I ring Simon. He tells me he’ll bring the limousine to the doors in two minutes. I’m dressed and ready to go by the time he arrives.

  “Where to, Miss Ryder?” he asks me.

  “Let’s go downtown,” I answer. “I might want to get a bite to eat. I missed lunch.”

  He nods and we roll forward. “Any preference?” he asks.

  “Let’s just drive around and see if anything catches my eye.”

  A few minutes later, I ask, “Hey Simon, did you…find me in the office building yesterday?”

  “Oh yeah,” he says quickly, almost too casually. “Definitely. Mr. Stonehart sent me to give you a message.”

  “Why didn’t he just…oh, I don’t know, call me himself?” I wonder aloud.

  “Beats me,” Simon shrugs. “He wanted me to give you that stack of photos, as well. There were some nice shots in there, weren’t there?”

  “You looked at them?” I ask, surprised.

  “Sure. Dunno if I was supposed to, though, but the envelope wasn’t sealed, and I’ve always been more curious than most.”

  “Hmm,” I intone. Something about that doesn’t jive. I know how much Jeremy values his privacy. Would he really permit his driver to go through photographs of us?

  We get to a part of downtown full of pretty little shops and quaint boutiques. I ask Simon to stop and let me off. “I’ll call you when I need to be picked up,” I say.

  I stroll through the streets. The overcast sky isn’t exactly uplifting, but there’s a crispness to the air that is refreshing. Winter in California is nothing like winter on the East Coast.

  I find a small Greek place that looks interesting. It’s styled in white and blue plaster so reminiscent of the Mediterranean. I walk inside, order a table, and sit down.

  Not two minutes later, Jeremy Stonehart walks through the door.

  I see him before he sees me. His eyes scan the tables, find mine, and the next think I know, he’s striding over. He looks furious.

  “Lilly,” he says, as he comes up to me. There is no room in his voice for ‘hellos’. “Tell me, right now, just what the hell you’re doing here.”

  I bristle. “Me? I’m getting lunch. I would be at work, but somebody took the courtesy of making that decision out of my hands.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you stalking me?”

  He ignores the question, rips the second chair out from under the table, and sits. Everything about him—from his posture, to the almost imperceptible tick in his neck—tells me he’s on edge.

  “I left you at home so that you could recover from your episode yesterday. That is where I expect you to be.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I challenge. “In case you happened to forget, I don’t have a collar binding me to your property any longer. You said so yourself: I’m free to go wherever I want.” I stare at him, defiant. “Or have you changed your mind about that already?”

  He slams one hand on the table. I jump. “Don’t test me,” he growls. “I have enough concerns on my mind already. I don’t want worries about you added to the mix.”

  “Then don’t worry,” I state. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about all your other ‘concerns’.”

  “You,” he says, his voice grinding, “are making this damn near impossible for me to tolerate, Lilly,”

  “What? That I’m not on your leash any longer?”

  “No,” he says. “That you’re giving such poor regard to your health.”

  “By leaving your property?” I challenge.

  “By leaving my property today,” he growls. “Listen,” he leans closer. “You’re not just in a relationship with me, Lilly. You’re also an employee of Stonehart Industries. An employee who’s found herself in a very elevated position, for someone her age. A company’s employees are its biggest asset and its biggest liability.” He emphasizes the last word, filling it with meaning.

  “So that’s how you think of me?” I spit. “As a liability to your precious empire?”

  “That’s not what I said. But don’t you think, after your histrionics yesterday, that it would be better—for you, for me, for the public image of Stonehart Industries—if you just laid low for a day or two, and took advantage of the free time I’ve given you?”

  “I’ve had nothing but free time, Jeremy, for weeks on end, in case you haven’t noticed. And you still haven’t answered my question: How did you know I was here? Actually, that’s not hard to guess. Simon told you. The better question is: How did you get here so fast?”

  “I take care of things that are important to me, Lilly,” he hisses. “That is how I’m here so fast. I’ve come to take you home.”

  My back stiffens. “No.”

  Jeremy’s eyes darken. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘no’,” I repeat. “I’m a free woman. I can go wherever I want.”

  “That may be,” Jeremy says. I can see him trying to control himself. “But there are still certain expectations of you that come from being linked to me.”

  He reaches into his pocket and takes out a stack of photographs, and practically flings them across the table.

  “More pictures you had taken?” I almost sigh.

  “Not I,” Jeremy says. “Look.”

  I go through them. They start with me in the limo, leaving Jeremy’s estate. You can’t see through the tinted glass, but I recognize the car. The shots continue, from the back, from the side, of the vehicle in traffic. And then—there are ones of us pulling to a stop. Of me getting out. Of me stepping into this very restaurant.

  “These were taken minutes ago,” I whisper.

  “Yes,” Jeremy confirms. “You’re lucky Simon knows what to watch for. Otherwise, these would be all over the papers tomorrow, and online tonight.”

  “So I’m being followed?” I say, not immediately understanding. “Stalked?”

  “By paparazzi, Lilly. They’re relentless. Like hounds. Now that you’ve been linked to me, everything you do in public will come under the highest scrutiny.”

  I feel sick. I feel duped. It was only a few hours ago that I was reveling in not having everything I do be recorded. Now, I f
ind that every time I’m outside, I’m under much the same surveillance—if not worse?

  At least before, I knew that only one person had access to the tapes. Jeremy. Now, my entire life feels like it’s been exposed.

  “What does it matter to them what I do?” I ask faintly. “Why do they care about my life?”

  “Because of what it can tell them about me,” Jeremy says. He sounds impatient. “This might be a lot to take in, Lilly, but you’re now a public figure. Because of both your position with Stonehart Industries and your connection to me.” He sneers. “There’s no denying our relationship in the office any longer.”

  “But how did you get these photographs? They’re so recent…”

  “I think you know how persuasive I can be,” he says, “when I put my mind to something. Now do you see why I want you to remain on my estate, where you’re safe from prying eyes?”

  I nod, slowly, feeling all the joy and excitement of being let outside seep out of me like water from a leaky tub.

  “Do you understand now that I have your best interest at heart? Are you willing to admit that much, at least, Lilly?”

  Again, I nod.

  “Good.” He stands. “I need to be back in the office. Simon will take you home. You’re lucky I was close by when you came here, Lilly. God forbid you had another episode like yesterday out here where anybody could see.”

  He turns and walks away. That’s it. No affection. No warmth. No sympathy. No good-bye.

  Just cold, hard Stonehart, stating his demands.

  His last comment felt like a punch in the gut. Is he going to continue referring to that incident forever?

  A moment later, Simon comes through the door. I shield my face when I’m out on the street. We get in the limousine, and drive all the way home.

  Chapter Ten

  There are still no messages or calls from Fey by evening. I am probably an idiot to expect anything else.

  But the thing is…I was hoping to hear from her. I know she’s doubtlessly still mad at me. I just thought the message that I left might be enough to convince her to give me another chance.

  Maybe too little time has passed. Maybe I just need to be more patient.

  I can do that, can’t I? I know how to be patient. Hell, I’ve endured far worse in the first few weeks under Stonehart’s care.

  But back then I had a purpose. I had determination. I had a goal, an end-point, in mind.

  And now? Now, I just feel lost. Lost and alone. I may have unlimited freedom. But what am I doing with it? I thought I’d be tunneling my way into the underbelly of Stonehart Industries. After what happened yesterday, who knows where I stand?

  And Jeremy…Jeremy has gone cold. He’s as impassive as he was when I knew him as Stonehart.

  Probably because I’ve disappointed him. He told me that he wanted my mind. He said that’s what he valued in me. He called me strong, independent, passionate…

  Was all that whisked away by my breakdown last night? Has all that evaporated like drops of oil on a hot skillet? How far have I backtracked with him? How much do I need to rebuild?

  Of course that’s not the worst. The persistent doubts about my own sanity are. I need reassurance: Something or someone to tell me objectively that I’m not crazy.

  Because if I can’t even trust myself anymore, how little do I have left?

  ***

  I’ve made up my mind when Jeremy gets home. There’s something that I need to do: Something that I’ve been putting off for far too long. Something that I think just might help put things in perspective for me.

  “Jeremy.” I interrupt him while he’s eating. He looks across the table at me. It’s the first word we’ve said to each other all night.

  I place my hands firmly against the oak and sit high. “I want to see my mother.”

  “Hmm.” He looks me over, chewing the bite of meat in his mouth slowly. He swallows, then takes a sip of wine. He puts the glass down.

  “Fine,” he says, and cuts into his steak.

  I blink. That’s it? No warnings, no debates, no…anything?

  “Fine?” I ask.

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He keeps his eyes on his plate. “Don’t make me repeat myself. If it’s my permission you’re looking for, you have it. You may go. But,” a cruel little smile curves his lips, “you know that you don’t need it anymore.”

  “What about…work?” I venture, carefully.

  “Stonehart Industries operated just fine without you, and will continue to do so until your return. A sabbatical now seems like the best option for all parties involved.”

  My gut clenches. I knew it. I knew what Jeremy saw in me yesterday ruined whatever impression I’ve managed to build up.

  The question is: How far back to ‘square one’ am I?

  “Do you know where she is?” Jeremy asks.

  I look up, startled from my self-pitying reverie. “Huh?”

  “Do you know where she is? Do you know where your mother is?” Jeremy emphasizes. “Dammit, Lilly, pay attention! It’s not so fucking hard.”

  I shrink back. “Sorry,” I mumble.

  His eyes narrow. “My question was more of the rhetorical sort. I’m aware that you do not. I know that you have not spoken to her for years, and that you’ve had no way to keep track of her location.”

  “Let me guess,” I say dryly. “You have?”

  “Would that surprise you?”

  “No.”

  “Atta girl. You might yet be smarter than I give you credit for.”

  I flash my teeth at him in a fake smile.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Jeremy asks. “Is some of your spunk coming back? I’m shocked, Lilly. I didn’t think we’d see a re-emergence of that for weeks.

  “Your mother is in Maine,” he continues before I can reply. “She is working nights at a trucker’s diner. You don’t need to worry about her.” One side of his lips curls up in a crooked smile. “She makes good tips.”

  That coy, derogatory remark is almost enough to make me pick up my glass and throw it at him. Almost.

  “You can leave tonight, if you wish. I’ll have it arranged for you. Or tomorrow morning. Whatever you prefer.” He spreads his arms wide in a mocking gesture. “You see? You get nothing but choices from me.”

  The last thing I want to do, at this moment, is face the prospect of having sex with the man if I remain here overnight. “I’d like to go now, in that case.”

  “Done.” Jeremy glances at his watch. “Simon will take you to the airport in an hour. That should give Rose enough time to pack your bags.”

  “I can do it,” I say.

  “Rose will do it,” Jeremy emphasizes. “Do you hear me? She has a role in this house. I do not want you getting in her way.”

  I sniff, already counting down the minutes until I can get away from the man.

  “You’ll have three days,” Jeremy lifts up three fingers. “After that, I expect to find you back, re-energized, ready to work, ready to fuck, and in general, more like the woman I assume you’re still capable of being, instead of…” he points his fork at me in the most despicable, degrading way imaginable, “…this.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that night, I’m in the back of Jeremy’s jet, flying across the country, alone. It’s a strange feeling.

  Even though he’s not with me, his presence still lingers heavy on my mind.

  As hard as I try, I cannot mentally dissociate myself from Jeremy Stonehart. He is at the heart of everything I do. Even if I were to leave—even if I were to take him at his word, and just walk out the door—the sense of uncertainty would consume me.

  Worse, the sense of my failure would consume me.

  I promised myself I would get revenge. I vowed it. If not for myself, then at least for Paul.

  I wonder if Rose is in a similar position. I wonder if she has also stuck by Jeremy, not because she has to, but because she needs to?

  Who knows the true natur
e of their relationship?

  But am I even in a position to make good on my promise any longer? I think I still am, even if I have backtracked. That also introduces a third element of uncertainty.

  The irony is not lost on me. I’ve been released from the contract, and yet, I am now bound more tightly to Jeremy than ever.

  And now, only because of him, I’m about to do something I never thought I would.

  I’m about to see my mother.

  I’m not going out to Maine in search of reassurance. That’s not something she can provide. I am going out there in search of the truth.

  Now, with Fey’s information, I really need to know. Is Paul truly my father? Did he actually abandon us, or did she force him to leave?

  If she did…and the result of that was him going to California, meeting Stonehart’s mother, ruining her life (in Jeremy’s view), and thus resulting in his targeting of me…then if I trace things back far enough, everything is her fault.

  I stop short. How petty do I sound? I cannot blame my mother for what Jeremy has done. But that’s the nature of my relationship with her. When things have turned bad in the past, it’s always been her fault.

  I realize I’m pressing my nails tights into the armrest and force my fingers to release. I feel more on edge about this spur-of-the-moment trip than anything else in recent memory. How will my mother react when she sees me? How will I react when I see her?

  I check my phone once more for anything from Fey. The silence on her end is killing me. Did I really screw things up so badly that the apology I left on her voice mail wasn’t enough to at least make her talk to me? I’m not expecting sympathy or forgiveness. That’s not what I’m after. But it would be nice, at least, to know that somebody out there still cares about me.

  Somebody other than my abductor.

  I look out the little window, and press my palm against the glass. I’m alone in the cabin. I specifically asked for no flight attendants. It’s just me and the pilot on this plane, and he’s locked away behind those heavy metal doors.