Uncovering You 6: Deliverance Page 13

  I will be doing myself the greatest favor in the world if I keep that firmly in my mind for when he returns tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  It’s dark outside when I see the headlights of an approaching vehicle flash through the front windows of the house.

  I tense. Jeremy’s home. What’s going to happen now?

  I strain my ears, awaiting the familiar sound of the front door opening. I wait for a count of ten. Then twenty. When it doesn’t come at thirty, or forty, or even fifty, curiosity gets the better of me. I get up to investigate what’s taking him so long.

  I look through the window. The car is gone. Yet Jeremy is nowhere to be found.

  I frown. He didn’t use the front door? Why?

  I hold my breath. The silence surrounds me. It’s so bad it’s almost suffocating. It’s nearly as bad as the dark. There is no air-conditioning, no fans running. No regular household noises that would lend life to a place. Just that overwhelming, overpowering silence.

  It almost makes me feel like I’m trapped in a horror movie.

  Rose? She’s somewhere else. Probably at her house. Charles? He’s doubtless there with her. He’s quiet as a mouse, usually, anyway. Even if he were around, I wouldn’t know it.

  But where is Jeremy, and what is taking him so long?

  All of a sudden, music explodes all around me. It makes me jump, heart racing.

  It sounds like a waltz.

  I spin on my heels. “Hello? Jeremy? Is that you?” The music is so loud that it completely drains my words. “What’s going on? Hello?”

  And then I see him. He steps out from behind a faraway corner. How he got there, I’ll never know.

  In one hand he has a bouquet of flowers, the sort I’ve never seen before. They look a little like roses except the leaves are a delicate, almost surreal blue. There are smaller buds in there as well, white as snow. Together, they make a beautiful medley that looks extravagant and yet very subtle.

  Jeremy’s other hand is empty. He smiles when our eyes meet. That smile makes my heart melt. It’s unrestrained, unforced, and completely genuine. It is reflected in his eyes.

  He extends his free hand towards me, and beckons me to him.

  I walk across the hall, lost in a trance. The music continues to echo through the mansion. It feels like it’s timed to my steps.

  As I approach him, and see Jeremy up close, I am again astounded by how handsome he is. He is a vision in his crisp suede blazer, perfectly lined pants, and a pair of stunning blue cuff links. I realize, on the spot, that those cufflinks are the exact shade of blue of the flowers.

  That can’t be a mistake.

  “What is all this?” I ask. “Jeremy, I don’t under—”

  “Shh!” He silences me by placing one finger on my lips. He tucks his thumb under my chin and gently strokes my jawline.

  Then he cranes his head to the side, and looks at me with such unrepressed adoration that my knees actually go weak.

  “I’ve missed you, Lilly,” he whispers. As he speaks, the music starts to fade away, almost like a dream. “We ended on a bad note last night. I want to fix things. Here.” He offers me the flowers. “These are for you.”

  I take the bouquet. I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. The flowers smell divine.

  “They’re wonderful,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “They’re nothing,” Jeremy murmurs, “compared to you.”

  I perk an eyebrow at him. “Too cheesy?”

  “Perhaps,” he says. “But perhaps not. It does not make my words any less true. Tell me, Lilly, do you dance?”

  On his words, volume of the music increases. Before I can answer, Jeremy wraps his hand around my back and tugs me into him. The bouquet is crushed between our bodies. I gasp.

  He leans down and kisses me. It’s a kiss full of passion and desire. The scent of the flowers mixes with his cologne to create an intoxicating aroma that I lose myself in. I am consumed by the heat of his lips against mine, by the feel of his body tight to me.

  And then he lets me go. I’m a little woozy. My grip on the flowers loosens. They fall to the floor.

  ‘”That…” I clear my throat, at the same time trying to give a little laugh, “…was no dance.”

  “No,” he says. “It was a kiss. To prove how much I’ve missed you. This…” He takes my hand and stretches our linked arms to the side, “will be a dance.”

  “Jeremy, I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.” All of a sudden, I feel inadequate. Here is a perfect specimen of a man, dressed to the nines, smelling like heaven and looking divine. Here is a man whose success is world-renowned.

  And then there’s me: Dressed in little more than household rags, and suddenly reliving all the awful memories of high school gym class. I am a complete klutz.

  I’ve never danced. I’ll make a fool of myself before Jeremy if I do.

  He smiles. “It’s easy,” he says. He repositions his arm on my back and steps away, creating a space between us. “I’ll teach you. All you have to do…” he begins to guide me, “is follow my lead.”

  At an up-tempo in the music, we begin. Jeremy surefooted. He seems to flow over the floor, never hesitating, never pausing.

  All I can do is try to keep up. But only a few steps in, I discover my fears unfounded. Jeremy guides my body with his hands, his steps, his own positioning. He was right: all I have to do is follow.

  We begin with something easy at first. A wide step left, and a swing. A wide step right, and another swing.

  It doesn’t take long for me to become more confident. And—shortly after that—to begin really enjoying myself.

  I feel a little like Belle from the ballroom scene in Beauty and The Beast. That is what this reminds me of. I don’t know where Jeremy learned to dance. But, I can tell by the ease of his motions that he is no novice. He’s done this before, many times.

  It makes me feel somehow… privileged… that he’s sharing it with me.

  The music swoops and dips in time to our movements. I lose myself in the song, in the moment, in the spectacular clarity that comes from simply being led by this man.

  Our steps become more elaborate. We twirl and Jeremy begins to move faster. The song hits its crescendo. We spin round and round in such smooth, perfect steps that I almost feel like I’ve done this before.

  The song ends. The music fades. And we stop, right in the middle of the floor. My heart is racing. All I feel at the moment is joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. Who knew that simply dancing could do that to me?

  “You’re a liar,” Jeremy says. “You told me you’ve never danced.” He smiles to show there’s no malice hidden in his words.

  “All you,” I say. “That was all you from beginning to end.” I can’t help the enormous grin that’s plastered on my face. “Jeremy, that was so much fun!”

  “I hoped you would enjoy it.” He rubs my upper arm. “But, I wasn’t sure.”

  “Are you kidding me? I loved it!” I gush. That very human sort of uncertainty that he expressed makes me feel even more unrestrained. “Can we do it again?”

  He looks amused. “Lilly,” he tells me, “I would love to do it again.”

  He reaches into his pocket to take out his phone. A second later, a different song starts. “This is Lehar by Mantovani,” he says. “A ballroom classic. It’s a powerful song, yet subtle, and perfect for someone like you.”

  I almost recoil. “Someone like me? You mean, someone who can’t dance?” I say, my heart sinking.

  “No.” An instant frown mars Jeremy’s perfect face. “Don’t ever second-guess yourself, Lilly. Not around me. I forbid it.”

  “Then what?” I ask.

  He smiles again. “Isn’t it obvious? Someone with delicacy, yet an unwavering spirit. You are… much like the song. You have more than natural, understated beauty. You shine, Lilly, but only in the eyes of the people sophisticated enough to see it. Your talents… your intelligence… your strength… would have been was
ted if you found yourself on your own. But with me…” he looks quite serious, now, “… you will become all that you are capable of. And more.”

  He steps away. Taking my hand, he drops to one knee. I stare at him, stunned.

  “I will not harm you again, Lilly,” he says. My jaw falls a little bit. “That I swear. I will only nurture you, and mold you into the woman you are destined to become.”

  Slowly, he reaches into his jacket pocket. I feel like I’m in a dream. Time crawls at a snail’s pace as I await whatever it is he has.

  A ring? It can’t be a ring. No! There’s no way. He can’t be proposing. Not now! Not this soon…

  Then again, nothing about Jeremy is predictable. Fear slices through the elation that defines this moment. If he pulls out a ring… I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  When I see his hand emerge, relief surges through me. He’s holding a small envelope, thin and unsealed. There can be no engagement ring hidden inside.

  “This,” Jeremy says, holding the square, folded paper between his thumb and forefinger, and looking at it with regret, “represents everything that you once were to me. It represents everything that you meant a scant half year ago. Do you know what it is, Lilly?”

  I swallow. I have a strong suspicion of what it might be, hearing him say that… but I don’t want to interrupt.

  I shake my head slowly.

  He gives a thin smile. “I think you do,” he tells me. “It doesn’t matter. I would hesitate, too, were I in your position.”

  He lays the envelope on the ground between us. His movements are exaggerated and deliberate. With the classical music still playing in the background, it’s almost like I’m an actor in a foreign ballet.

  Still on one knee, he puts his free hand behind him. It re-emerges as a closed fist.

  “And this,” Jeremy says, extending that hand toward me and slowly unfurling his fingers, “Represents the start of a new beginning.”

  Inside his hand lies a single, wooden match.

  My heart starts to beat even faster.

  Jeremy lays it on the ground beside the envelope. They make a perfectly-aligned pair. “I should have done this before,” he tells me. “But I’ve been waiting, Lilly. Waiting for the right moment. Tonight…” He looks at me, holding my gaze. “…brings to us, finally, the right moment.”

  He picks the envelope up again. He hands it to me. “Open it. Please.”

  My fingers tremble as they work under the flap. I peel it back.

  Inside sits exactly what I expected. That thin, parchment-like paper with the vile words, THE CONTRACT slashed across the top.

  “Take it out,” Jeremy whispers.

  I do. I look at my signature at the bottom. It makes me remember the final desperation I felt when I gave in and signed it. But it also makes me remember my strength. I signed the document with a purpose in mind. Even if it meant giving five years of my life away, it also put me in a position to get back at the bastard who subjected me to the worst weeks of my life.

  And now, that bastard is kneeling in front of me, repenting the things he’s done.

  “Hold it out,” Jeremy says.

  I do. I find it pathetic to see how the paper shakes in my unsteady hands.

  He picks up the match, strikes it against the heel of his shoe, and brings the flame to one corner of The Contract.

  The paper catches. Both of us watch, entranced in our own ways, as the licking flames spread across the bottom. Black ash falls to the floor.

  Jeremy snuffs the match. And still I stare, astounded, at the burning piece of paper held in my hand.

  It’s a measure of my disbelief that only when the flame reaches my fingers, and a sharp pain shoots up my arm, do I let go. The remaining strip flutters to the floor and curls into itself as the fire consumes the words that bound me to this man.

  He rises, slowly, and steps over the remains. I stare at him, craning my neck up, up, up, as always.

  “Now what?” I whisper.

  “Now,” he says, running an unhurried hand through my hair. “We make love.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Waking up the next morning is like nothing I can imagine.

  Jeremy, last night, was tender. He was caring. He was unrushed and unhurried and just… perfect.

  It was not a heated, all-consuming session. We’ve had that before. In the bedroom, I’ve experienced domination. I’ve experienced being taken by force, against my will. I’ve experienced deep passion and the rush of unbridled desire.

  What I’ve never experienced before… what I’ve never had with him… was true lovemaking.

  And yet, that was exactly what last night was. When he slid into me, both of us aroused from the foreplay… the way he stared into my eyes… the way he held my body to his… it was something special.

  Special because of what that moment meant. I was no longer bound by any darn document, enforceable or not, to make myself available to him. I was not forced into doing anything against my will.

  There was no collar. There was no contract. All there was, and all there ever will be in the future, was a man and a woman making love. A man and a woman, both of them free, both of them equals, both of them accepting and giving all at once.

  Of course I find the bed empty again this morning. Jeremy’s already at work.

  I feel bliss that comes from not having anything in the background, stuck in the back of my mind, detracting from where I am. I must have had the first good sleep since before the summer.

  I discover a note waiting for me when I go to put my slippers on. It’s signed at the bottom not with Jeremy’s initials, but with his full name. I’ve never seen that before.

  The note reads:

  You are my sun and my stars.

  You are my sin and my repentance.

  You are mine, Lilly. I will never let you go.

  But you, my dear, are free to leave me.

  If you do, I will drop everything and follow you to the ends of the world.

  I will make you say those three tiny words to me.

  But you will do it as a free woman.

  Tomorrow, I will introduce you formally to Simon, my driver. He will be at your beck and call at any moment. You may go wherever you wish with him. I trust you.

  Tonight, if I return in time, we will call Fey. You will arrange to meet with her in Oregon before she and Robin leave for school. You will take my private jet. I will not accompany you, nor will I listen to your conversations with her. You may tell her, or anybody else, whatever you wish.

  I trust, however, that you will use your best judgment in the things you reveal. You are now in a position to hurt me, Lilly. It is my sincere hope that you don’t.

  Jeremy Stonehart.

  “Wow,” I breathe. I barely know what to make of things. This letter does not come from the same man who abducted me. It’s almost like it’s from someone else. Either he was acting before, acting the entire time, or else he was deliberately hiding the side of himself he’s showing to me now.

  My money is on the latter. Knowing what I do about Jeremy, thanks in no small part to the things Charles revealed about his past, lets my understanding of the man grow.

  I can picture him as a youth, and imagine all the struggles his upbringing caused him. I can envision that type of environment giving rise to the personality traits dominant in Jeremy.

  I can also imagine, and I can see, how for his entire life, Jeremy had to act like… well, like Stonehart. Weakness was something he could not tolerate. It was something his father did not tolerate. Jeremy could not allow himself to be anything but a success. The persona he shows to the world, the side of himself that he reveals to the public… it is always strong, infallible, in control.

  That is the man I first met. He seemed inhuman. A machine, devoid of warmth or feelings or emotions. That was the man who kidnapped me.

  Somewhere along the way, the defenses fell. The walls broke down. Maybe it began on our trip. Maybe it began—I
swallow—when he first realized he had feelings for me. Back when he fought against those emotions. The outcome of that struggle resulted in my being shocked by the collar.

  But I don’t hate him for it. Not for that specific episode. There are other things I hate him for. But now that I understand him more, what he did to me… it makes sense.

  Christ! Am I really telling myself that the abuse I was put through makes sense? It can’t. It shouldn’t. It was sadistic and cruel and demeaning and…

  Evil.

  Evil. That is really the best way to describe Jeremy when he was Stonehart. But even evil comes from a source, from some initial seed that sprouted and took hold of a person’s soul.

  Jeremy was not always evil. Children are not born evil. He became that way because of his upbringing. His formative years were defined by consistent feelings of inadequacy and neglect. I know enough psychology to know how much that affects a person’s psyche.

  So, Jeremy became the man he thought he should be. He became cruel and vindictive. His entire being was centered around Stonehart Industries. Stonehart Industries was created as a method of revenge, as a way to get back at, and prove himself to, his father.

  I wonder what Jeremy’s father would be like if he were alive today. Maybe he still is—I don’t know. I also wonder what Jeremy’s two brothers are up to. What they’re doing, how they’re living, whether they are in poverty or not. In the story Jeremy told me, he sounded absolutely determined to bring all of them down. And he did.

  But what happened to them next?

  The point is not to get lost thinking about Jeremy’s family. The point is to say that I do understand—really, I do—the root of most of his inhuman behavior.

  The sad thing is: Jeremy lived most of his life like that. He spent over twenty years carving out this persona for himself. One that allowed no weaknesses. One that had to be bullet-proof and completely infallible.

  Yet the man who wrote this note is not the same man as the one I first met. It’s astounding. I’m starting to feel like I’ve managed to strip away the layers of defense around Jeremy.