Uncovering You 10: The Finale Read online

  My arm slows me down, but only a little bit. Being a board member is actually not as involved as I thought it would be. Not in Jeremy’s company.

  Here, he alone runs the show. He consults us on some things, mostly of trivial importance. The company is operating smoothly. There is no need for excessive oversight.

  Where does that leave me? Desperately scrambling to make myself useful. All the other board members have departments they are in charge of. Me? I’m just tasked with being present at the meeting.

  I don’t even see Jeremy at work. He’s always busy, always making calls or holding meetings. Always doing something that requires doing. I’m left alone to carve out a spot for myself. Or rather, to find utility in the spot that I was given.

  In the evenings, when we are at home, Jeremy does spend time with me. We have dinner together and share the same bed. While his appetite for sex is as insatiable as ever, I start to feel there’s a bit of a gulf growing between us.

  There’s no conflict. Stonehart hasn’t made an appearance once. And even though that is exactly what I thought I wanted—to find peace—it makes things feel too comfortable. Too ordinary.

  Too... unlike us.

  With all our demons out in the open, with all source of discord gone, I feel like we’re starting to slip into something very routine.

  I can see it dig at Jeremy, too. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

  I’m also realizing why Rose told me that, before me, Jeremy did not socialize much. There simply isn’t time. Eighteen-hour days at the office followed by a quick fuck and a bit of sleep is the norm.

  Rinse, lather, repeat and do it all over again.

  At least he seems to enjoy it. And I enjoy watching him—when I have the chance. I still love the way he can conquer a room. It comes so naturally to him. And, of course, I love the scandalous whispers and wide-eyed stares that follow us when he parades me on his arm during outings to the city.

  But life, now, is not quite as I imagined it. There are still the clothes, the jewelry and the luxury cars. Jeremy spoke of estates in cities all over the world. I haven’t seen a glimpse of those yet.

  The funny thing is: This is the exact spot that I thought I wanted to be in. Back when I was still vying for revenge. Now? Now, it’s all a little bit meaningless.

  A month or so in, after the cast has come off and I feel more integrated into Stonehart Industries, I decide to find a purpose.

  I don’t want Jeremy to think I’m useless—even if that’s pretty much exactly how I feel. In a company with thousands of employees, would things stutter one bit if I suddenly went missing? No.

  No, and that scares me most.

  So, I set about making myself indispensable.

  The departments that Hugh was formerly responsible for did not shift to me. They got transferred to somebody else. But that’s just a managerial—executive—oversight. There must have been things he was responsible for on a day-to-day basis. Aside from harassing me, that is.

  But when I ask Jeremy about it, he laughs and says: “Lilly, how much influence do you think I’d let my father have within my company?”

  That puts an effective end to that conversation.

  Jeremy is not the only one I am responsible to. There’s another man—Gregory—to whom I’ve been introduced. He’s been helping me make sense of my position. He’s probably the only board member to take a liking to me.

  So I seek him out after talking to Jeremy. He’s in his office, right beside mine, right next to where Hugh’s had been. He’s speaking to members of the legal team when I come in.

  I wait, standing aside to let them finish their conversation. They leave. Gregory looks at me. “Hey, Lilly. What’s going on?”

  “I was wondering if you could show me some of those files you were talking about? The ones you said Hugh was paying particular attention to before his departure?”

  Gregory chuckles. “Finally ready to tackle the big fish, are you?”

  “I figure it’s time to prove my worth.” I shrug. “Besides, I’m interested. What could he have thought so important there?”

  “I told you before. They’re just financial records. We’ve gone through them. They’re all in line.”

  “But you also said Hugh protected them with an unyielding zeal,” I say. “Why?”

  Gregory kicks off from his desk in his executive chair and rolls across the floor toward the back cabinets. “Beats me,” he says, opening a drawer. He flips through the contents and pulls out a thick, heavy file. “But here. This is all we have. I warn you, Lilly, it makes for dull reading.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” I say with a smile, taking it from him. “Thanks, Greg.”

  Chapter Eight

  I spend the rest of the day locked in my office, scouring the papers in the file for a hint of whatever Hugh was working on.

  They’re all financial records: Spreadsheets and charts showing expenses, invoices, bills paid and such. Receipts from contractors, money-flow diagrams from previous years.

  Nothing about it is odd at first glance. The numbers add up. But when I first asked Gregory about Hugh’s former responsibilities, he told me exactly the same thing that Jeremy had… before adding that these files had become Hugh’s final obsession.

  Gregory called it an obsession. He used that exact word. Jeremy could not tell me why. In the days after Hugh was relieved of his duties, analysts and auditors came in and scoured the records for inconsistencies. They found none. These records were allegedly the same as the fiscal reports made public. Why Hugh kept these printouts so close to his chest, none could say.

  The mystery calls to me. It makes it a puzzle worth solving. It’s not like Hugh was mentally impaired. He knew what he was doing. There must have been a reason he collected these.

  Also, despite whatever power Jeremy exerted over his father while they worked together, the old man was wily. Jeremy called him a rat, working from the shadows, lurking in the background. Doing things for his own end-goals in his own, secretive ways.

  I refuse to believe that Hugh simply accepted Jeremy’s power over him—even if Jeremy had full control. Hugh must have been doing something…planning something…for his own gain.

  I remember their interaction at Logan International Airport. Hugh still had influence and connections in the world. Connections that Jeremy deemed valuable.

  What if Hugh had done something, planted some seed, given birth to some insidious plan that would corrupt Stonehart Industries from the inside?

  If he had, I want to find out what it was. And stop it.

  The irony is not lost on me. At the start of the year, I would have killed to be in Hugh’s position: To destroy Stonehart Industries from within. Now, I’m trying my best to protect it.

  Protect it from what? Is there even a credible threat?

  Nobody seems to think so. But Hugh was sneaky. He must have sensed that an end to his tenure was coming. He must have planned for contingencies.

  However, after hours and hours spent poring over the reports, I find nothing wrong. Jeremy stops by to take me home that night. I bark at him and tell him to piss off.

  He leaves me alone. But just before he does, something frightening comes into his eyes.

  Whatever, I think. I’ll deal with that later. Jeremy wanted me integrated into his company, and I’m doing exactly that now.

  My office is a mess. Papers from Hugh’s file are strewn all over the floor, all about my desk. Even though I don’t see anything there, intuition tells me that something is hidden. That something is layered beneath the neat rows of fiscal figures.

  I pick up a sheet at random. It’s an inventory count of medical devices being shipped to Norway, to one of Stonehart Industries’ subsidiaries. From there, the English labeling will be removed, the devices rebranded, and sold under a different name to companies all over Europe. Companies that would never deal with Stonehart Industries directly, because they are competing rivals. But presenting the devices to them
as a genius invention dreamt up by a young start up? Well, they have no qualms about it then. And no amount of due diligence could uncover the original supplier. That’s how convoluted the link is.

  These are things known only to executives within Stonehart Industries. Secrets of doing business locked under bulletproof NDA’s, noncompetition, and other such contracts. The whole company is run like this. Turning it into a public corporation does not reveal such ties.

  It just makes stockholders much richer.

  The question is: Why did Hugh have a printout of this particular shipment? Why this one over any other? There are hundreds. Hell, there may be thousands!—like these being made every day. This one is from over a year ago: April, 2013. What makes it so special?

  I put it back down. I wish there were some clue: a handwritten annotation, a single pen stroke, an arrow, an underline. Something that would hint at why Hugh kept what he did in this collection.

  But there is none. All the sheets are as clean as the day they came out of the printer.

  Maybe I’m on a wild goose hunt. Maybe, in my desperation to make myself seem valuable, I am seeing things that are not really there. Maybe Hugh had nothing. No plan, no ulterior motive. Maybe he was simply stuck existing in the narrow confines of the role that Jeremy carved out for him.

  But dammit, that’s not what my gut tells me. Instinct makes me certain that there is something hidden there. I am convinced, if I just spend enough time analyzing it all, I’ll be able to discover that something.

  Wouldn’t Jeremy be proud of me then? I’m doing all this for him. Rose was his father’s mistress. She was someone who propelled through the ranks of his father’s company and fascinated him with her intellect, her drive, her passion.

  She also molested Jeremy, over and over again.

  But if I think on it—and it’s an uncomfortable thought. Maybe I can understand how Jeremy’s positioning of me within Stonehart Industries mirrors what his father did with Rose.

  That sort of association can only be subconscious. Hell, Jeremy’s probably blind to it. But I am not.

  So perhaps this desire to make myself seem useful stems from wanting to be unlike Rose. To be more than Rose. There’s some very deep, very frightening shit stirring within Jeremy’s psyche. Everything he does is a manifestation of that. I’m now caught up in his life, for good, most likely forever.

  I do not want him to associate me with Rose. Not on any level. And so from there comes my desire for self-sufficiency. If I uncover whatever Hugh may have been hiding, well… it brings me one solid step closer to that goal.

  Chapter Nine

  “Lilly?”

  Jeremy’s voice rouses me from sleep. Groggily, I open my eyes. I look up.

  Jeremy is standing next to me, his hand on my shoulder. Pale morning light shines through the window of the office.

  “You didn’t come home last night,” he says.

  I look around me. The office is a disaster. Papers litter every surface. All of Hugh’s files are dumped on the floor, piled into haphazard stacks. I push up from the desk. There’s a sharp crick in my neck from having slept in such an awkward position.

  “What time is it?” I mumble.

  “Just after eight,” Jeremy tells me.

  “Shit!” I bolt up.

  “Relax,” he says, taking my shoulders and easing me back down. “Relax, Lilly. No one’s going to disturb you. I made sure of that. When did you fall asleep last night?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Three? Four?”

  “All this…” Jeremy glances around the room. “…occupied you for that long?”

  “I don’t have much to show for it,” I mumble.

  “I’m not going to ask,” Jeremy assures me. “I came to check on you earlier, Lilly. But I didn’t want to wake you. I had a feeling you’d been up most of the night.”

  He clears a small space on the side of the desk and leans against it. “Would you like a shower? I brought you fresh clothes.”

  I nod. “And a coffee,” I mutter, standing up.

  Jeremy catches me in his arms and pulls me close. “And a fuck,” he whispers in my ear.

  And hour or two later, I’m back at my desk, buzzing.

  The coffee didn’t do that. Jeremy did.

  He took hold of me in the shower and washed my hair. I leaned into him, tired, still half-asleep. He kissed my neck, and lathered up my back. The rush of water was cold, and energizing. Jeremy went to his knees, kissing his way down my body, gently, intent on rubbing every single inch of skin. When I looked down, and he looked up at me, I saw such care, such compassion in his eyes… Everything clicked.

  I bit my lip. He noticed. He pounced up, his erection full and hard. He absolutely devoured me. The kiss that was meant to be cautious and slow became passionate and heated. I took hold of him and started to stroke him through the slick coat of water covering his skin. He grew in my hand. Diabolical excitement awoke within me, somehow enhanced by too little sleep.

  Jeremy growled and kissed me again. He positioned my leg up on the tub ledge and pushed into me without remorse.

  I gasped. He groaned. Sharp jolts of pleasure ripped through my body. With every pulse, every pound, every entrance, Jeremy brought me closer and closer to the glorious edge.

  When my release came, he swallowed my cry in a heated kiss, and then came hard with his cock shoved deep inside me. The feeling left me in such unbridled ecstasy that I still have not come down.

  But now I’m back in the office, staring at the puzzle I’m sure is there. Some people would say there’s nothing to be found. Yet I have the inkling of a pattern emerging. That knowledge is faint, hovering just on the edge of my mind. But it is there. I can feel it. Pattern recognition—maybe it’s something that I inherited from my father. He sees things that others don’t. If it manifests in his art, then it’s not a curse, but a gift.

  Sadly, a gift that none but I will know.

  However, not sadly, some of that talent must have transferred to me. Formerly untapped, I can sense it, lying latent, waiting for the spark that will start the fire and reveal the hidden darkness of the room.

  Or, at least—reveal the thing that Hugh is hiding in all these sheets.

  Another half day goes by and I’ve made no tangible process. It’s infuriating, feeling that I’m close to a discovery but being unable to reach out and grasp it.

  I look outside. The May sun is shining in earnest. It makes me think of beaches and palm trees and ocean-side summer parties. It makes me think of the time Jeremy and I spent on his yacht, then on his island, almost half a year ago.

  I want to go away with him again. Forget all this, and just float in the bliss that his touch can provide. Get away from the frenzy, the people, and the noise.

  But isn’t this what I envisioned for myself before I met Jeremy? Isn’t this what I thought I wanted when I was still in school?

  Damn! Nobody says I cannot have both. I can ask Jeremy to whisk us away. We’ll return to his tropical paradise. We’ll spend a few nights there, and come back to work. He’s mobile. He can run his company from anywhere. And I am too. To be honest, at the moment I feel totally useless.

  No, I’m not going to ask for a getaway just yet. Not until I uncover whatever it is that’s staring me in the face.

  But I do need a little break. I push up, off the table, lock the door, and go downstairs and outside.

  Immediately, I feel refreshed. The sun feels wonderful against my skin. I wander through the crowds of people, enjoying the sense of anonymity that comes from being one in a thousand.

  I start to walk faster, thinking hard. My mind keeps going back to Hugh’s papers. What are they? What’s hidden there? What is—

  I stop. I look around me. The crowds have gone. I’m alone at the entrance of a shabby alley.

  How did I get here? I look around. There are a few pedestrians still on the street. A car or two drives by. There is the Stonehart building in the distance, dominatin
g the city skyline. But, by God, it’s far away. How lost must I have been in my own thoughts to come this far?

  I don’t like this place. I get eerie vibes similar to the time I found myself lost and alone in Jeremy’s mountain home.

  I turn around, wanting to get back amongst people, away from the shadows, into the sun.

  A white van screeches to a halt in front of me. The doors open. Three masked men jump out.

  Before I know what’s happening, they’ve grabbed me.

  I try to scream but a rag is shoved in my mouth. I struggle against my assailants but I can’t get free.

  A sack is thrown over my head. A harsh, chemical smell surrounds me. Chloroform?

  Immediately, I feel myself fading. The struggle stops. My limbs give out. I fall back, am caught, and carried inside. The last sound I hear is the vehicle door sliding shut.

  I come to with a gasp. I open my eyes, but cannot see. I am blindfolded.

  I try to move. My arms are locked behind my body. My legs are tethered to the floor. I’m sitting, upright, in a chair, bound in place.

  Panic rises up and threatens to consume me.

  I thrash about. I rip my head back and forth, trying to get the blindfold to slide off. It’s no use. Struggling is no use either. I’m bound tight.

  The instinct to fight claws through me like an angry cat. I keep thrashing, back and forth, trying to get free but knowing, even in my desperation, that I can’t.

  A light comes on. Right above me. I see it through the fabric of my blindfold.

  My breathing is ragged. Forced. I jerk my head up—and freeze when I hear footsteps approaching.

  “Well, well, well. It looks like the bitch is up.”

  The voice is male. Deep. Accented and menacing. Middle Eastern? Maybe.

  “Who are you?” I ask. “What do you want?”

  A chair scrapes across the floor. It’s a vile sound, worse than nails on a chalkboard. It stops right beside me. I feel the man sit, just inches away.