Uncovering You 5: Confessions Page 4

  He sits up and faces me. “So there you have it. It’s a goddamn horrible apology, but it’s the only one I can give you now.”

  Our eyes meet. Behind the darkness that engulfs his irises, I see a tumultuous swirling of emotions.

  I wonder if the same is mirrored in my face. Because, this… this confession… has me reeling.

  He rises. “Our flight leaves tomorrow at ten,” he says. “Rose will be in to wake you before eight. She’ll pack your belongings for you.”

  He walks to me and reaches out to take my hand. I don’t move. I feel like I’m glued to the spot.

  He brings my knuckles to his lips. “Goodnight, Lilly-flower,” he breathes. “And Merry Christmas. I hope, starting tomorrow, we can begin a new chapter in our lives.”

  Without another word, he turns around and walks out the room, leaving me feeling like I’ve just been run over by a ten-ton truck.

  Chapter Six

  My mind is too active to grant me any sleep that night.

  I keep replaying the conversation with Stonehart over and over again in my head. Three things stand out:

  The first is his plea not to hate him. I never, ever would have thought I would hear anything of the sort from the man.

  The second is the mention of hope. He hopes that I can trust him. He hopes that he can trust me.

  The third is the promise of a new chapter. What does he mean by that? Have the rules been abolished? He’s taking me out with him, with no mention of the TGBs. Are they nothing more than a relic now?

  He also told me that I can ask him questions. Any I like! I didn’t seize the opportunity before he left. But, if he actually stays true to his word, it might mean that the verbal rules he set out at our first meeting do not apply anymore.

  I turn to my side and bring the blanket to cover my shoulder. I stare out at the sea. Moonlight reflects off the glassy water and makes it seem to sparkle.

  I cannot wrap my mind around what could have possessed Stonehart to say all those things to me. It’s the closest thing to empathetic I’ve ever seen him.

  I do not think he was mincing words. Why would he? The justifications he had for his actions make little enough sense as they were.

  Little enough sense to someone normal. He imprisoned me to keep me safe? He locked me up to develop trust?

  That is not how those things work.

  One other thing he said, just before walking out the room, has me more confused and uncertain than ever.

  “Some things go so much further back than you can ever know.”

  Was he alluding to the reason I’m here? To the reason why I was the one he chose as his prisoner?

  I can’t be sure. But I know one thing: Whatever he meant, it was important. The sincerity he showed in giving that twisted explanation for his actions tells me, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am important to him.

  I suspect I was important before I even came to California.

  Why? and How? are the prevailing questions that haunt me as I drift off into a restless sleep.

  ***

  Bleary-eyed and groggy, I wake up the next morning to Rose shaking my arm.

  “Miss Ryder, it’s time to get up,” she says in an apologetic, soft voice.

  I groan and roll onto my back. It feels like I just fell asleep minutes ago.

  “Miss Ryder, you really can’t wait any longer. It’s almost nine-thirty, and—”

  I jerk upright, more awake than if I had chugged five Red Bulls in a row.

  “The flight’s at ten!” I gasp. “Jeremy said you’d wake me at eight, and—”

  “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Rose breaks in, cutting me off. “Mr. Stonehart saw how soundly you were sleeping and wanted to give you a little more time to rest. You’ll be taking a separate flight to Portland, leaving at noon.”

  Relief swells inside, mixed with a hint of disbelief. Stonehart changes plans because of me?

  “But you really mustn’t tarry,” Rose says. “We’re cutting it close. If you want, you can take a quick shower. I have everything packed for you.”

  I let Rose lead me out of bed. I slip a robe over my shoulders as she chatters on. Even though she’s trying hard to retain the degree of formality that defined our very first conversations, she can’t keep some things from slipping out.

  “It’s wonderful to be able to see you again,” she keeps telling me. “Oh, and I’m so excited for your trip. I hear Portland isn’t the grandest of cities, but I’ve never been, and it’s beyond time you get out of the house…”

  On and on she goes, in that same, bubbly vein, as I get dressed and then sip the espresso she brings me.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaim as the first bit of caffeine hits my bloodstream. “It’s Christmas! I forgot all about it, Rose. Merry Christmas.”

  “And to you too, dear,’ she says with a coy smile.

  “I don’t have anything to give you,” I admit. Even though I never had much money, I always made a point of putting some small gifts together for my friends during the holidays. Most of them were useless knick-knacks, but they were always appreciated. I wish I had something for Rose.

  She smiles at me in a very endearing way. “Just seeing you healthy and happy is enough for me,” she says. Then she claps her hands together. “Now, come along, please. I’ve got your luggage lined up for you at the front, and the limo’s waiting. The driver’s been idling—“

  “Hold on,” I say, stopping short. “Where’s Jeremy?”

  “Mr. Stonehart took the ten a.m. flight as planned,” Rose tells me. “He arranged for his plane to return to bring you to Portland this afternoon.”

  My eyebrows rise in surprise. So he really did have to get there early. And still, he left me here on my own, just to give me a few extra hours of sleep?

  “That was very considerate of him,” I mumble.

  “Mr. Stonehart can be a considerate man,” Rose beams proudly. She touches my shoulder. “He just has to have the right people around to bring it out.”

  ***

  Half an hour later, I’m seated in the back of a white limousine, about to leave Stonehart’s property for the first time.

  A nervous excitement fills me as the engine starts up and the car rolls off. I wave goodbye to Rose through the back window, and, when the mansion is out of sight, stick my face to the glass to look at the winding road we’re taking through the trees.

  The gates rise in front of us soon after. They are large and heavy and black. Very, very black.

  Seeing those gates makes my hand twitch up to touch the collar around my neck.

  It’s still there, of course. But I’ve become so accustomed to its presence that I rarely notice it any more. And right now, in some strange yet undeniable way, it feels… almost soothing.

  It lets me know that I am not dreaming. It tells me that I really am about to leave Stonehart’s property, having earned the promised TGBs or not.

  The gate slides open. My breath hitches as we drive through. And then, when nothing happens… I let out a strangled laugh of relief.

  The driver glances at me through the rearview mirror as my laughter becomes near-hysterical. I don’t care. I am off the property. I am actually off the property.

  There was no shock. There was no pain. The collar remained deactivated, true to Stonehart’s word.

  I couldn’t be happier.

  Two days ago, I was trapped in the dark, unsure of whether or not I’d ever see the light of day again. And now, here I am, in the back of a limousine, about to enter the busy California traffic, as close to a free woman as I’ve ever dared hope.

  Half an hour later, we arrive at a private airfield. There’s a small jet waiting nearby. A stewardess takes my bags from the trunk and carries them on board with the driver’s help. I climb the protruding steps to the cabin and look around.

  It’s as luxurious as I imagined. More so. The seats bolted to the floor are a rich, creamy red. A bar made of dark oak is installed near the back. There’s a se
cond stewardess behind the counter. She smiles at me when our eyes meet.

  “Good morning, Miss Ryder,” she announces in a crisp, upbeat voice. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  She knows my name? Then again, of course she would. Stonehart would have ensured that.

  I eye the fancy bottles behind her. My head throbs a little from the wine last night. Besides, I want to be fully sober when I see Stonehart in a few hours.

  “Just water, thank you,” I say, and pick a seat at random to perch on. She brings me my glass and I take it with a grateful smile, but don’t bring it to my lips.

  Being all alone—that is, without Stonehart—in this place feels surreal. More than that, it feels like I’m intruding. I don’t belong in places usually reserved for the rich and famous. I don’t belong in the cabin of a magnificent private jet.

  The stewardess from outside climbs the stairs and seals the door. The plane taxis to the runway, and we’re lifting off a few minutes later.

  I’m not afraid of heights, but I’ve never been a big fan of flying. My body tenses as the elevation changes. I relax only when we’re level high in the air.

  The flight to Portland passes in the blink of an eye. I spend most my time staring out the little circular window. I don’t see anything but white clouds. Yet, something about what they represent—the promise of real, genuine freedom—appeals to the deepest part of me.

  “The wind is in our favor,” one of the attendants tells me. “We’re going to arrive half an hour early.” She smiles, as if it’s the greatest news in the world.

  We land. The touchdown is a little bumpy, but, on the whole, better than lift off. The doors open and I’m hit by a frigid blast of air.

  Now, I’m thankful for the coat Rose stuffed in my hands before I left.

  I drape it over my shoulders and descend the steps. My bags are already being loaded into a black limousine that’s waiting for me. This one is shorter than the last. I never gave such things much thought before. But, I guess limos come in different sizes.

  The driver is a plain-faced man with gray streaks in his hair. He holds the door open for me. I thank him with a little nod, and, happy to get out of the cold, duck inside.

  Surprise overcomes me when I find Stonehart lounging on the other side of the cabin, his cell phone pressed to one ear.

  He’s leaning back with one arm draped over the back of the seat. He is the picture of masculine ease.

  Our eyes meet. He smiles at me briefly, and then looks away as he continues his conversation. The door slams closed behind me, making me jump. Stonehart notices, and a spark of amusement flickers across his eyes.

  I settle directly across from him, wishing there was a little more room in the tight cabin. I thought he had meetings to attend today, I think. Yet, he made time to meet me.

  The car starts to move. I feign interest in the passing scenery outside, but in truth, nothing could be more interesting than listening in on Stonehart’s conversation. He’s talking business, something about shorting stocks. While I have no idea of the context, anything he says that has to do with Stonehart Industries is fascinating to me.

  Any tidbit I overhear now might prove vital in the future.

  Escape, I think in the back of my mind. I made it out of the mansion. The next step is to get away from him.

  The phone call ends unfortunately early. Stonehart hangs up only minutes after we leave the airport.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says. “Your flight came early. That was rude of me.”

  I give a little laugh. I’m not sure if it comes from a genuine place or if I do it just to play the role I think Stonehart expects of me. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

  But my spirits are higher than they have been in weeks. That’s no act. And it’s pretty obvious as to why.

  “You had a good flight?” Stonehart asks. “Did Charlene give you any trouble?”

  “Charlene?” I wrinkle my nose. “Who’s Charlene?”

  “My pilot,” Stonehart says, looking momentarily confused. “She didn’t introduce herself?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I look at him. “You have a female pilot?”

  He answers me with a rich laugh. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I guess not,” I say. “Just… somewhat against the usual stereotype.”

  “True,” Stonehart concedes.

  “Thank you for letting me sleep in, by the way,” I say. “I told Rose it was very considerate of you.”

  He perks an eyebrow. “And what did Rose have to say to that?”

  “She said you can be a considerate man.” I pause, debating whether or not to add the other part. I decide to do it. “For the right people.”

  “And you, my dear, definitely belong to that select group,” he says, with no hint or mockery or sarcasm in his voice.

  I can’t help the smile that grows on my lips.

  “But I must apologize,” Stonehart continues. “We’re almost at our hotel, and I do have meetings to attend. I wanted to greet you. Beyond that, I’m afraid we won’t be able to spend much time together today. Before we part, however, I wanted to go over my rules for this trip.”

  My heart sinks. I knew this was coming, but I was hoping he would delay it for a tiny bit longer. It jars me from the illusion of freedom I’d built up around this trip and right back into harsh reality.

  “But first,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket, “a gift. For you. It is Christmas, after all.”

  He brings out a small black box and holds it in front of him. It’s the sort that would house an expensive ring or bracelet.

  Oh God. I swallow. I hope this isn’t a return of the TGBs.

  “Open it, Lilly,” he says.

  I take it from his outstretched hand. The box has surprising weight. It’s solidly built.

  I feel Stonehart’s eyes focus on me. Something shifts in the air, and there’s a sudden solemnity between us. I try not to show my growing nerves. After a moment’s hesitation, I lift the top.

  Inside is a beautiful, jeweled brooch in the shape of a butterfly. The wings are made of red rubies and green emeralds. The body is a shiny silver or platinum.

  “Christmas colors,” Stonehart says. “I thought they would suit you for the holidays.”

  I hold my breath. He hasn’t mentioned this being a TGB yet. Maybe there isn’t any hidden meaning behind the gift.

  “Here,” Stonehart says. “Let me put it on.”

  I turn the box to him and let him take the butterfly out. He leans forward. His hands move sure and swift as he unbuttons my jacket to expose the blouse I have on underneath. My breath hitches as he spreads the lapels wide and focuses on my chest. Slowly, he pins the brooch in place.

  An intense sexual energy cackles between our bodies. I have the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

  Before I can make good on that foolish desire, Stonehart leans back, breaking me from the trance. He smiles.

  “It looks good on you, Lilly-flower,” he says softly.

  “Thank you, Jeremy,” I answer, my words coming out a touch breathless.

  “You’re welcome,” he says. He lifts a finger. “Now, rule number one. You are to keep the brooch on at all times during our trip.”

  Alarm ripples down my back. I knew there was a trap here somewhere. He wouldn’t make such a rule if it didn’t hold meaning.

  “Why?” I ask, even though I do not want to know the answer.

  “Because,” Stonehart smiles, “located inside is a small positioning chip. It transmits a signal to your collar,” He takes out his phone, swipes at the screen, and then leans back in apparent satisfaction. “Which is active as of this moment. So long as the brooch remains within three feet of you, you’re free to go wherever you please. But the moment you step out of range…?” he trails off. “I don’t think I need to finish for you to understand.”

  Anger and frustration build inside me. I take a series of deep, steadying breaths to quell those feelings.r />
  Really Lilly, I tell myself. This isn’t so bad. Did you really expect Stonehart to just let you roam around Portland with no restrictions?

  I force a smile that I hope he takes as genuine. I am his prisoner once more. Then again—that never really changed.

  “Okay,” I say. “The brooch stays on. What else?”

  Stonehart’s eyebrows come up. “That’s it? No protest? No indignation?”

  I shrug as casually as I can. “Nope.”

  He gives a little smirk. “Good. I’m glad we’ve progressed past that. Though, I fear you might be a little more opposed to the bit of information that comes next.”

  I look right at him with my back straight. “Shoot.”

  “The reason you need to keep the brooch on, sweet Lilly, is because there is a microphone embedded inside. It’s been recording everything that’s been said since the moment you opened the box. Every word you say on this trip… everything you hear…” he taps his earpiece, “I do, too.” He pauses to gauge my reaction and then continues.

  “It’s just a precaution, you see. I am granting you unparalleled freedom, and I simply do not want you tempted into making some very, very dangerous decisions.” His eyes bore into me as his voice becomes dark. “Do you understand the things I am talking about, Lilly?”

  I shift a little under that stare. I understand all too well. He wouldn’t want me going to the cops or calling for help.

  “Remember that, ultimately, I control your collar,” he says. “If the wrong words come from those pretty red lips of yours, all it takes is one press of a button…” He holds up his phone to show me. “…and you’re writhing on the floor.”

  Bile builds in my throat at the casual way he can speak of electrocuting me.

  His voice softens a fraction. “But I don’t want you worried about that during this trip. I want you to enjoy yourself. Just use your common sense, Lilly, and we’ll avoid any accidents.

  “Now, obviously, I don’t have the time nor the inclination to listen in on your every word today, or tomorrow, or any other day this trip. That’s why the task has been relegated to Rose.” His eyes move up to meet mine. “I assure you,” he says softly, “you do not want to test her loyalty to me. If you do…” He pauses. “The result will be very unpleasant. For both of you.”