The IPO made Jeremy’s wealth—on paper, at least—almost double. Should he ever sell his shares, he would have enough money to make millionaires of a single city’s populace.
Not that he would ever give it away.
But I do find out some things about Jeremy that I never suspected before. Stonehart Industry’s support of the Make-A-Wish Foundation is not just an empty tax-deduction opportunity. It actually holds meaning to Jeremy. He told me how once, in the aftermath of his disastrous break up with the woman who played with his love, he bought the whole inventory of a gigantic downtown toy store, got a bus for all the kids in the largest metropolitan hospital, and brought them there to take anything and everything they wanted clear off the shelves. It was the week before Christmas.
I was surprised, but more interested in details about the mysterious woman. Who was she? What exactly did she do?
Jeremy would not elaborate.
That type of information gives a sense of humanity to the man. He is not just the cold, calculating CEO of Stonehart Industries. He is not just the monster who imprisoned me. He is a living, breathing person, with dreams, aspirations, failures, flaws…
In fact, Jeremy Stonehart is a lot like anybody else. When I first came into his presence, I thought he was among the worst of humanity.
I do not anymore. Clearly, he is not perfect. But, how many people can claim to be? And while his abuse of me at first appeared to be without reason, I can now understand—or at least, see—things from his perspective.
That does not make the things he did acceptable. It does not lessen their severity, or cruelty. But I think that understanding was the key that allowed me to admit that I have feelings for him.
Strong feelings. Immense feelings.
He did not abuse me simply because he took pleasure in it. He did not subject me to the horrors of a thin, withering existence because he could.
He did it for reasons that were very clear in his mind. He had definitive goals in sight. There was logic behind the madness. Twisted, dark, unacceptable, and masochistic logic … But there it was.
That’s how I’ve been able to reconcile my warring emotions whenever I’m near Jeremy Stonehart. Maybe it’s me being weak, falling for my captor like this. Maybe it’s me being delusional.
But even if it is… who cares? What I have right now with Jeremy is so much better than anything I can imagine having with anyone else. Nobody can make me feel the passions that storm within me around Jeremy. Good, bad, and something in between, they are all part of the amazing experience with him.
There is no supplanting Jeremy. Nobody can ever come close. The path we took to get here is unrivalled.
Perhaps that is what binds me to him. Maybe it’s not even Jeremy himself—or at least, not Jeremy in full—but rather the journey we shared that makes me feel so inexplicably tied to him.
Whatever it is, I don’t allow myself to worry too much about it. All I concern myself with, high on this sleepy mountain, is the blooming feeling of warmth that is aroused by Jeremy’s presence. His smile, his laugh, his voice, his unwavering intensity, in everything and anything he does endear him to me.
And then there are the moments of unexpected sweetness, the jewels that give me a glimpse into his soul. The times I catch him staring at me, transfixed. When I ask him what it is, he just smiles and says, “Nothing”. Or in the post-coital bliss, when we’re both at peace and languid, and he just holds me close to him, our hearts beating as one. Those are the moments when he does not need to speak. There are no words to describe what we have with each other. Those are the times when language seems a cruel parody, utterly incapable of finding meaning or ascribing definition to the raw, powerful connection between our bodies.
It’s all metaphorical. And yes, there is a time and place for poetry and art. It’s precious and ephemeral. But lose yourself for long enough in its grasp and the corporeal ceases to hold meaning.
It’s where I am now.
It’s a slow, sensual seduction of the deepest, most primitive part of my mind. Therein lies the danger. Therein lies the threat. Because should I find myself too accustomed to it, too comfortable within its enclosure, reality has a nasty habit of rearing its ugly head at the least opportune moment.
That moment comes three days into our stay, on the crisp Saturday morning of March 29th.
Jeremy and I spent the night in each other’s arms. He kissed me awake, and then went downstairs while I elected to shower alone.
As I descend the wide steps to the first floor I get the distinct feeling that something is wrong.
“Lilly,” Jeremy greets me from around the hall. His hands are behind his back. The recent good humor that I’ve come to expect from him is gone. “Come with me.”
There’s an undertone to his voice that makes me wary. “What is it, Jeremy?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” A vague and discomfiting answer. “Come. Now.”
I nod, and trot after him.
He leads me to a dark, cavernous room. The blinds are drawn.
“Close the door,” he says once we enter.
“Jeremy…“
“Just close it, dammit!”
I jump to obey. My heart is pounding in a thick, heavy rhythm, like the drumbeats leading a marching army to war.
I turn to him. He’s settled into a massive armchair in front of the drawn drapes. The back of it extends halfway to the ceiling. It looks like an iron throne.
He’s watching me from his center of command. His presence, combined with the chair, combined with the darkness, makes me feel suddenly very small.
And more than a little bit afraid.
“I found something,” he informs me, “the night I came to your room in Boston. It angered me. But your condition took precedence. You had to be cared for.
“However.” He raises one finger. “Now that you’ve recovered, and I can see for myself that you are improving, my mind keeps slipping back to that small discovery. Do you know what I’m talking about, Lilly?”
I blink rapidly, trying to think. I feel like I’m on trial here. For what crime, I do not know.
But the man before me is the same one I’ve spent the last few glorious days with.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Jeremy …”
“I’m talking about this,” he snarls. From his hand flies a crumpled sheet of paper. “Pick it up.”
I walk to it and bend down, my whole body trembling. This is such a departure from what I’ve come to expect from him that I can’t think straight. I haven’t faced this side of Jeremy for so long that I’ve all but forgotten how to react.
Slowly, I rise and open the note.
“Read it,” Jeremy barks.
It takes a second for my eyes to pick out the lettering in the dim light. But when they do, I recognize what it is immediately.
Robin’s note.
This is what has him so upset? This is nothing!
“Jeremy, you’ve got it all wrong,” I start. “Whatever you think—“
“I said,” his voice cuts through mine like shears through silk, “read it, Lilly Ryder. Do not make me repeat myself.”
I straighten, unwilling to let him see my fear. There is nothing to be fearful of. Not here. Fear is a sign of guilt, and I have a clean conscience.
I clear my throat, and quote:
Fey is still mad, and I am, too. But unlike her, I think I understand. If you ever truly need any help, you can come to me. I won’t shut you out.
Robin
“Yes,” Jeremy says when I finish. “Could you tell me what exactly that means, Lilly?”
“It means nothing,” I say. The spirit is back in my voice, the certainty clear in my speech. “I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Oh, really?” Jeremy sneers. “Will that be your defense, then? That you forgot about it? That’s why you have not mentioned it to me? I’ve given you plenty of time to bring it up.”
“Well that’s true,” I say. I stalk around hi
m, to the window, and throw open the drapes. White light reflected from the snow floods the room.
If my being behind him discomfits Jeremy, he gives no indication. He does not move from his seat, nor does he turn back as he addresses me.
“Do you remember what I told you about honesty, Lilly?” he asks. His voice has a hard edge to it. “Do you remember what I said about lies and deceit?”
“That you find them unacceptable,” I say, half-mocking. I go to a credenza on the far wall, opposite him, and cock my hip against it. “So what? You’re not taking me through this round-about game again, Jeremy. This type of behavior is starting to piss me off.”
He frowns, and tilts his head to one side. “Is that really the best thing to say to me?” he asks.
There’s a threat hidden deep beneath his words.
“I’ll say what I want,” I tell him, crossing my arms. I’m walking a narrow line, here. I would never dare attempt this sort of non-compliance were he still Stonehart.
But I’m not going to roll over and simply take this shit, either. The circumstances should not dictate how I react to him. I have to make it clear that I have my expectations, for him too. Trying to frighten me over a triviality such as this is not acceptable. “I don’t know how much you’ve read into that letter, but whatever you imagine it being, you’re wrong.”
“A hazardous accusation.”
“Yet one I’ll still make.” I lift my chin high in the air. ‘I’m not afraid of you, Jeremy. Not anymore. I know what you’re capable of. I experienced it first-hand. But I also know if the depths of your feelings for me really reach as far as you say, you won’t attempt anything of the sort. Ever again.”
“Lilly…”
“No. Let me finish. I’m not a little girl to be frightened by dark places and big theatricals. You want a witness to who you are, to what you do? Well, here I am. You say you’re a man of your word. And you told me you wouldn’t harm me again. I’m free to leave whenever. Don’t you remember? Yet I choose to stay with you.
“But this sort of bullshit has to stop, Jeremy. I’m putting my foot down. No more threats. No more fucking games. Don’t make me believe we have something special only to crush it with a showing like this.”
I hold the letter out in front of me. “Do you know how much Robin’s words mean to me?” I rip the paper in two, and then fold it and do it again. I let the pieces flutter to the floor. “That’s how much. That’s why I didn’t mention it. I simply forgot. I don’t need to tell you every minute detail of everything that happens when you’re not around.”
“Lilly,” Jeremy growls.
“I’m not done!” I cut him off. Passion is building inside me. My voice becomes stronger with every word. “If you claim you want the trust between us to be that of a wife and a husband of fifty years, well, that’s a fucking two-way street, Jeremy. You can’t expect me to give, give, give, and not reciprocate in return.
“So no more hidden dangers. No more veiled threats. From now on, you say what you mean, Jeremy, and you tell me exactly what you think. That’s the only way our trust will develop. Because, honestly? Love is only one part of the equation.”
He looks at me in silence for a long time. His eyes have blackened and his face is still.
I hate it when he gets like this. He’s hiding everything, and it makes him impossible to read.
But I will not budge. I am firm in my stance. No matter what Jeremy’s capable of, I will not be reduced to having to watch every step around him. No fucking way.
Not anymore.
Slowly, he brings one hand to his face and narrows his eyes. He touches the side of his nose, and then points that finger at me.
“You,” he says, “are damn sexy with your mind made up.”
And then he’s out of his chair and striding toward me with such speed that I stumble back. He catches me around the waist and pulls me into him. His mouth crushes mine with furious intensity.
He kisses me long and hard. When he breaks away, I’m left breathless and weak. There was so much contained in that kiss—so many words and feelings that can never be spoken—that it’s a wonder I’m still upright.
He peers at me through dark, long-lashed eyes. If there’s one thing I find in his gaze, it’s the first semblance of real, unquestionable truth.
“I’ve given you the keys to the kingdom,” he says. “There is no one else. Nor will there ever be. You are all I have and all I will ever want. But this?” He nudges the torn-up sheet on the floor with his foot. “Has a propensity to frighten me.”
“What?” I whisper. It is the first time I’ve heard Jeremy admit to such vulnerability.
“My mind is dark, Lilly,” he says. “My thoughts are black. Always. You are the light that parts them and shines through. You reach to my very core. I have no defense against you.”
He lets me go, walks to the window, and gazes out. He keeps one hand on the sill. “Nor,” he says softly, “do I want one.”
“What are you saying?” I ask carefully.
“I’m saying that there are triggers—the letter, for example—that cause me to revert to old habits. I fight them, Lilly, as much as I can. But they are an integral part of me. These flaws, these reactions, are instinctive. When we are apart, when I feel like I’m losing control, all of them come rearing up. I cannot help it. I do not want to change. Those reactions—the very things you loathe about me—contribute to my success.”
“I don’t loathe them, Jeremy,” I say softly. “And you don’t have to explain. I understand.”
“Do you?” he turns to me. “No.” He shakes his head. “You do not. How can you? You haven’t seen the things that I’ve seen, haven’t lived through what I have. You don’t have the experience to recognize the evil stewing beneath. I try to keep it in check, Lilly. Truly, I do. Only around you. Yet every so often,” He exhales, “it bubbles out again.”
“Like with the letter,” I say.
“Like with the letter,” he affirms. “Only you managed to defuse it in time. Before I could do something …” He gives a crooked smile. “…very, very rash.”
I saunter up to him. “Oh?” I say, feeling both powerful and proud of myself for achieving my intended effect on him. “And what would that have been?”
“Trust me,” he says, turning away. “You do not want to know.”
I touch his arm. “But I do, Jeremy,” I say. “I want to know. Because I want to know you.”
“You do. You’ve seen me.”
“I want to know what goes on up here,” I brush the hair off his forehead. “What goes on in that strongly-guarded mind of yours?”
He takes my hand. Turns it palm-up. And touches his lips to each pad of my fingers. “No,” he says. “You do not. I’m all sorts of fucked up, Lilly. If you knew even a tenth of who I really am, I would lose you forever. I am not willing to risk that.”
“I’ve already seen you at your worst,” I whisper softly. “And I’m still here. Aren’t I? How much could it really push me away?”
“Much more,” he says. “Yet that makes me wonder. Why are you still here, Lilly? Why do you remain with me?”
“Because I…“
“No.” He silences me by pressing a finger to my lips. “Don’t say it. Not now. Our journey together through this lonely world is just beginning. Don’t say it until you know what you mean.”
“I do know,” I insist, my stubbornness kicking in. “You can’t dismiss me with a reason like that.”
“I have my reasons,” he says. “As I’m sure you have yours. And your reasons, Lilly, have nothing to do with love.”
Chapter Two
I spend the rest of the day pondering Jeremy’s last words to me.
There was a definite implication behind them. It was the same one he alluded to when he first told me the story of how he claimed his father’s company in court.
That he can recognize someone angling for revenge.
It’s been a long time since I thought in
those terms. There has been no opportunity in our recent time together in this wonderful retreat.
But, now, that underlying current of suspicion is back. The poisonous gulf that threatens to undermine all that we have between us.
Maybe I have been too naïve. Maybe I have stuck my head too far into the sand. Maybe I have become so enraptured with the silent brilliance of my own revenge plan that I lost all sight of the big picture.
Honestly, how brilliant can my plan really be? There’s nothing to it at this point. No substance. No accountability. No… no nothing, really.
I had this vague notion that I had to get close to Jeremy Stonehart before plotting my revenge. That was step one. At the time, the prospects seemed so miniscule that I didn’t even think ahead to step two.
‘Silent brilliance?’ I scoff. More like ‘silent idiocy.' What did I think I could achieve, even if I got close to him? Would I kill him? No. That was never on my radar.
Hate and loathing were what made me pretend compassion, understanding, at first. Hate and loathing were what made me set my sights on worming my way into Jeremy Stonehart’s heart.
Well, I’m there now. I have been there for months, actually—if the story of my being in a coma for so long checks out.
Yet, something about Jeremy’s version of events doesn’t jive with me. There’s a piece missing. If I really had brain damage, wouldn’t I be able to know it, somehow? Wouldn’t it manifest itself in some way by hampering my mental abilities?
The story about it affecting my emotions only is too convenient to check out. It’s too simple, too easy. Too clean.
Why would I have fallen into a coma in the first place? That makes no sense. I haven’t pressed Jeremy for answers, only because I know he would stick to the same script.
For all that, how do I even know that it’s March? How do I know that we’re truly in Colorado? All the information I have about my situation comes directly from Jeremy. And he is a master of twisting lies into truths.
We could be anywhere in the world. It could be any week of the year. I haven’t had access to any outside information. We’re completely isolated here.
I haven’t let it bother me yet because there hasn’t been anything I could do. And I needed to give myself time to enjoy being around Jeremy.
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 83