Uncovering You 5: Confessions Page 6

  At least, it works for me. It might be his pheromones underneath.

  He settles down across from me and stretches out his long legs. The driver starts out into the city as soon as Stonehart shuts the door.

  He looks at me. His gaze is electrifying.

  “Do you feel that?” he asks.

  I blink. “Feel what?”

  “The energy… the thrumming… complete between us. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. No other woman has ever affected me like that before.” He leans forward, suddenly alert and intense. “Tell me it’s not just me. Tell me you feel it too, Lilly-flower.”

  With his attention fastened on me, and him all but breathing me in, how can I deny it? He knows how I responded to his kiss.

  A wave of heat overtakes my body as I have the sudden image of Stonehart pouncing on me, ripping off my dress, and fucking me right there in the back of the limo.

  I blush, flustered, and look away. “I feel it,” I admit shyly.

  Stonehart shifts across the cabin floor and lowers himself next to me. My heartbeat ratchets up from his proximity. “What do you feel?” he presses. There’s a raw edge to his speech. “Describe it for me, Lilly.” His hand comes to rest just above my knee. “Tell me how I make you feel.”

  My breaths are coming faster, now. They’re deeper, too, making my breasts heave with every inhale.

  “I feel… lost, “I say. Stonehart’s hand tightens on my leg. “Lost in you. In your power. In your masculinity.” Those are the words I’m certain he wants to hear, but it’s not like I’m making them up on the spot. I’m not pretending. I’m telling him the truth. “You overwhelm me, Jeremy. You’re larger than life. Your presence alone…” I swallow as his hand moves up my thigh, toward the spot where blood is now pooling, “…makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable. Only for you.”

  “Yes,” he says, moving closer to me. I can feel his breath on my cheek. His hand inches further and further under my dress. “What else?”

  “I—”

  I’m cut off as a blaring honk shakes the cab. The limo swerves, throwing me away from Stonehart and breaking the intensity of the moment.

  “Fuck!” Stonehart curses. He turns around and pounds the window separating us from the chauffeur. “What the hell was that?”

  The tinted glass slides down. An unsteady voice answers him. “Sorry boss. Some asshole decided to cut us off. It was a near miss.”

  “See that it doesn’t happen again,” Stonehart growls. The window rolls back up.

  By now, I’ve already pushed myself upright. But my body feels strung out from the release of adrenaline. I feel shaky, and not in a good way.

  Stonehart looks at me. He runs a hand through his hair. “That was… unfortunate,” he finally says. “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t control traffic,” I say. “You’re not a god.”

  His lips form a thin line. “No,” he agrees. “That I am not.”

  I feel a distance developing between us. I don’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed.

  He moves to his original seat across from me. His jaw is set as his eyes take me in.

  “We have to go over the rules of tonight’s engagement,” he says.

  “Oh.” My voice is small. “I see.”

  “I hate taking you out of the moment—but it is necessary.”

  “I understand.” Secretly, I wish that his body were still beside me, with his hand crawling up my leg.

  I straighten my shoulders to show him that I’m paying attention. “Tell me your rules for my behavior.”

  “They’re simple,” he says. “I find simplicity is best when dealing with complex situations. One. When you are at my side, you are not to speak to anyone other than me. If you are asked a question, you may respond with a single-word answer. Yes or no will do. I will handle anything more complicated. All you need to do is smile.”

  “Okay,” I say. “That makes sense. I can do that.”

  “Two. I’ve taken measures to ensure that there are no…” he moves his tongue over his teeth, searching for the right word, “…temptations for you, at the restaurant tonight. You understand that you must not reveal the details or your relationship with me to anyone. Furthermore, the ban on news of the outside world still stands. You will find no televisions or newspapers inside. Current events should be of no concern or interest to you. Do you understand?”

  I understand that calculating Stonehart is back, I think. “Yes,” I tell him.

  “Third. I want you to enjoy yourself. I know this is a big step for us. Your behavior tonight will determine how we proceed when we return to California. You will be at the restaurant with me, but there will be other people around. It is the first time you will find yourself in such a position. If you even think of alerting anybody of your situation…” his eyes move down to my mouth, then down to the brooch, then back up to the collar, “…just remember what I can still do to you.”

  I swallow and nod. The collar feels tighter than it has for weeks.

  Stonehart relents. Just a tiny bit. “But honestly,” he says, leaning back, “Just use your common sense. I want to be able to trust you, Lilly, not to act against me. It will take time for that trust to develop. We will get there, eventually. We’ll take small steps, at first. And if you have doubts about what you should do, or how you should act… just ask. I’m going to be right there with you the entire time.”

  “I can do that,” I confirm.

  Stonehart is no fool. He knows the risk he’s taking by bringing me out tonight. It’s on me not to screw it up. If there’s even a glimpse of a chance to run, or escape… I won’t take it.

  Because I know he will find me again. He will find me, and he will be angry. He’s been watching me for years. If I truly want to strike at him, I have to be patient. Running will grant me nothing.

  But ingratiating myself in Stonehart’s good graces? That will provide me the platform needed to destroy his entire world.

  Stonehart chuckles. The sound brings my attention back to him.

  “I recognize that look,” he says. “What I wouldn’t give to know what’s going on inside your pretty little head right now.”

  “All you have to do is ask and I’ll tell you the truth,” I say quickly, trying to deflect attention away from my guilty thoughts.

  “Yes, but not in its entirety. Isn’t that so?” Stonehart reaches for the mini-fridge. “Champagne?”

  ***

  Our hotel was pretty much in the heart of downtown Portland, so when the limo takes a turn away from the city, a feeling of apprehension comes over me.

  “Didn’t you say we’d be dining near the river?” I ask Stonehart. “I thought that was the other way.”

  “It is,” he agrees. “I just planned a small detour first. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No,” I mummer, but my thoughts start racing at breakneck speed. This trip was presented as an outing from the hotel to the restaurant. Nothing more.

  What does Stonehart have planned? Why didn’t he tell me we weren’t going straight to the restaurant?

  I look at him. He’s barely touched his drink, while mine is already half-empty.

  I put the glass down. I am not going to allow myself to drink more than him. If I thought I needed lucidity before, just for the dinner, it’s all the more important now that we’re stopping somewhere else first.

  “Can I ask where we’re going?” I venture.

  “You can.” Stonehart smiles. “But I would be under no obligation to tell you.”

  The answer makes my hackles rise.

  “I want it to be a surprise,” he amends after a moment. “It’s nothing unpleasant, Lilly. In fact, I think you’ll find the experience quite enlightening.”

  That comment really sets the gears in motion. What would Stonehart consider ‘enlightening’?

  I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Ten minutes later, we’re turning down a wide country road. Douglas firs line the sid
es. They are decorated with small, blinking Christmas lights. Only one other car passes us the entire way.

  I see the lights from the complex first. They brighten the night from over the tops of the trees. We take one more turn, and the buildings become visible.

  They are small and quaint. None of them stands taller than two stories. They have a Georgian finish that reminds me of the little bit of Harvard I saw when Fey and Sonja sneaked me to the football game. Around the perimeter of the community runs a solid brick wall.

  The road we’re on leads to wrought iron gates. They are closed. They start sliding open, specifically for us, when the limo gets close enough.

  I look around for a sign or something that will give me a clue to what this place is, but find none. Even its name would be enough to give me some understanding of where we are.

  I look across at Stonehart as we pass the manned guard booth. “Where are we?” I ask, my quaking voice betraying a hint of anxiety. “What is this place? A country club?”

  Stonehart raises his eyebrows. “Not quite,” he says. “But your guess is not far off, either.”

  “Well, it’s some sort of private community,” I say. I try to make my most pleading eyes at him. “Can’t you tell me why we’re here? You said yourself that trust is important to you.”

  “It is,” he nods. “And right now, I need you to trust me when I say that we’re here for good reason. As to the why… well, you don’t want to ruin the surprise prematurely, do you?”

  “After everything I’ve seen, I don’t know how much I like surprises,” I mutter.

  Stonehart catches the comment. He smiles, then leans forward to take my hands in his.

  “Lilly,” he says, looking me deep in the eyes. “Truly, there is nothing for you to worry over. It’s Christmas Day. Even the soldiers in World War I held off combat on the day of Christ’s birth. Do you really believe I would ruin what we’ve begun to build by bringing you somewhere unpleasant?” The limo rolls to a stop before one of the brick buildings and the engine cuts off. “I have a friend here. I made a promise to him, long ago, that I would visit and chat at least once every year. Sadly, circumstance has prevented me from making good on that promise for the last few years. Tonight, in the spirit of Christmas, I hope to make it up to him. I take my word very seriously. If he were anybody else, I would have found some other way of keeping my promise, but… well, you’ll see.”

  The driver opens the door and Stonehart steps out. He offers his arm to me, which I take.

  “Don’t forget your coat,” Stonehart says, leaning back in the limo to retrieve the mass of furs that he insisted I take when we left the hotel. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  My breath fogs in front of me in the chill night air. I hear the sounds of festivities inside—people talking, dishware clattering, music playing. It takes me an extra second to process the fact that I am now, for the first time in many, many months, within hearing distance of other people.

  I’m afraid of becoming emotional. The fact that I am doing it with Stonehart’s collar around my neck, and the man right beside me, makes it all the more surreal.

  “Come on,” he says, his footsteps crunching over the frost on the ground. “It’s this way.”

  I let Stonehart guide me with a hand against my lower back. We walk toward the front of the building and climb the concrete steps to the grand double entrance doors. He stops just before reaching for the handle.

  “I should warn you,” he says, “not to be alarmed. Some of the occupants inside might seem a little…” his lips quirk in distaste, “…peculiar. I’ve tried to ensure that we won’t be bothered by any such. But as you so aptly noted yourself, I am not a god. I cannot control everything. Just know that I did my best.”

  Before I can reply, and ask what the hell he’s talking about, Stonehart pushes open the door, and the sounds of a large gathering slam into me.

  The walls of the building must be very thick, because inside, the clamor is deafening. Maybe part of it comes from the shock of seeing so many people gathered in one place.

  The lobby clearly doubles as the common room. And Christmas celebrations are in full swing. There are lights draping all the walls. A massive tree stands in one corner, sparkling red and blue and white and complete with artificial snow. People young and old—though mostly old, I note—are moving around, chatting with friends, snacking on treats from the min-bar, reclining in circles of armchairs, bunching up around coffee tables, laughing. There’s a piano by one wall, and somebody is playing an upbeat version of “Winter Wonderland”.

  I see people in casual pants and cashmere sweaters, complete with the horribly-charming hand-knit designs and lurid colors that always accompany them.

  It strikes me immediately that this is not the type of place I would ever expect to find Stonehart. These are not the people I would ever expect him to keep company with.

  And, quickly shifting my eyes to him and back, I see that I’m right. The change in his expression is subtle, but I’ve become such an expert at picking up his intricacies that, to me, it’s clear as day.

  I see it in the added rigidness of his stance. In the tiny tightness around his eyes. In the way his lips purse, ever so slightly, as if he’s just heard a tactless joke.

  All that, I take in in the blink of an eye. What I find next alarms me more.

  Not all is right in the festivities. I look at the exits leading away from the lobby and discover each one manned by a stationary guard. None is uniformed. But I can tell—from their standoffish demeanor, from the way their eyes glaze over the crowd, from the distracted way they interact with those nearby—that that is who they are.

  Other things stand out, too. Small, subtle things, but they are enough to make the hairs on the back of my arms stand on end.

  For example. The windows. The latches are outfitted with big, solid locks. Without a key, there’s no way anybody would be able to open them from inside. They are not barred the way they might be in a prison, but the locks undoubtedly serve the same purpose.

  What kind of place needs to have a lock-and-key mechanism on the windows from the inside?

  I also see, cleverly hidden behind the various decorations on the walls, poster boards with thick lines of text. I can’t make all the words out, but the font and spacing reminds me of the instruction boards found in pools: No Running Allowed, No Diving in The Shallow End, that sort of thing.

  Last of all is the fact that our arrival has generated absolutely no notice whatsoever. None of the people so much as glanced our way when we walked through the doors. And, based on our clothes alone, we should definitely be worthy of attention.

  “Here,” Stonehart says, turning me to the side and starting toward one of those manned exits. “Come this way, Lilly.”

  We stay to the outside of the throng of people. Not only do none of them look our way, but I notice two or three consciously lower their eyes when we come close.

  The strangeness of it all definitely has me on edge.

  Stonehart makes brief eye contact with the man I’d pegged as a security guard, and we walk past him with no comment or interaction. The hallway that we come upon is eerily abandoned.

  As we get farther and farther away from the lobby, a haunting silence starts to replace the previous din. Stonehart doesn’t speak. Soon, the only thing I can hear is the sound of my heels striking the linoleum floor.

  We turn a corner to a second empty hall. This one, however, has doors lining the sides. It reminds me of the hallways found in an apartment or hotel. There’s a hint of staleness to the air. I shiver.

  “What is this place?” I ask softly.

  Stonehart’s eyes flash at me. He does not answer, but that single look is enough for me to know that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

  All of a sudden, the collar feels like it’s attached to a countdown timer that will go off whether I abide by Jeremy’s rules or not. Whether I stay within my boundaries or not.

&nb
sp; “Jeremy?” I try, desperate to hear a single word out of him that might quell the panic building inside me. “Where are we?”

  “In a place I’ve waited a long time to show you,” he says. His voice is neither warm nor cold. But his eyes… his eyes terrify me.

  They have the same glimmer of madness I saw when I met him at the restaurant for dinner so many months ago. The glimmer that hints at his cruelty, at his sadism, at a trap being laid. The glimmer that tells me he is in absolute control, and about to unleash some unknown horror my way.

  “Right here, Lilly-flower,” he says, stopping outside a door. My breaths are coming in quick succession. Sweat trickles down my back. And Stonehart’s arm around my waist serves as the sturdiest shackle in the world. “We have finally arrived.”

  Stonehart steps forward, releasing me. He brings his wrist near the handle. A whirring sound fills the air, and the lock clicks open.

  The last thing I see before Stonehart pushes open the door are the initials P.H. engraved on a tiny golden plaque right where the eyehole should be.

  Chapter Eight

  On the other side is a small room. Stonehart guides me in with a bit of pressure on my back.

  It’s occupied. There is a man inside, sitting on the bed, facing away from us. Like everyone else so far¸ he does not look our way when we enter.

  The door closes by itself behind us. The whirring sounds again, making me jump. We’re locked in.

  Only when the sounds fade does the man stir.

  His head swivels toward us slowly. Lethargically. Like all the energy and life has been sapped out of him.

  I notice his hair is speckled with grey. The skin on his neck is sallow. He is thin. Very, very thin.

  His profile comes into view. The moment it does, my knees give out. Stonehart’s arm tightens around my waist, holding me up. He does not let me fall.

  I barely notice. The man. I know that man. It’s—

  “Hello, Paul,” Stonehart says.

  I don’t know what to think. I stare, aghast. Terrified.

  Paul’s eyes sweep over me without recognition. Of course not. Last time he saw me, I was an eleven-year-old girl. Aside from that forest rescue, he never paid much attention to what I did.