Uncovering You 9: Liberation (16 page)

I suppress a small sob. “You’ve done it, Jeremy. You’ve claimed my mind. But I don’t think you’re capable of executing the next part of your plan. You‘re not going to cast me out. You can send me away, sure. But you won’t do that either. And I’ll never leave you without a fight.”

“Why?” Jeremy asks. He sounds desperate.

“Why?” I repeat. “Originally, it was for revenge. You are completely right. I had to get back at you for the things you did to me. That was my plan, all along, from the moment I signed your blasted contract.”

He gives me a weak smile. “I know it was.”

“And it was still there when we left for the Caribbean. It was there when you took the collar off. Even on the day you burned the contract and gave me access to your home. Always, always it was there.”

“And now?” Jeremy asks softly.

“It…hasn’t gone away,” I admit. “Just like you wanted to break me, I wanted to harm you. I wanted to make you cower before me. I didn’t know how I would do it. But I know that I had nothing but time to find a way.

“Do you know why I sent Fey and Robin away, after bringing them to Boston to see you? I had to get rid of them. I was afraid they would ruin my plot to get back at you. They wanted to take me away from you. But if I were away, how could I make good on the promise I made to myself on my last day by the pillar?”

“And that promise was?”

“To bring you to your knees,” I smile again, weakly. I feel all shaky. These are not things I thought I’d ever be admitting to Stonehart. These are—were?—my innermost desires. The things that were driving me to everything I did.

“You know,” he says, peering deep into my eyes. “Some promises were made to be broken.”

“I know,” I say, holding his hand tight.

“What changed?”

“Something…in you. Last night. You gave me the gun. You tried to make me pull the trigger. And I couldn’t do it.

“Only when I accidentally fired the shot…and realized that you could have been killed…did I understand that the real reason I’ve remained had nothing to do with revenge. Rather, it was because I did not want to be anywhere else. More important to me than revenge, Jeremy, is understanding.”

“Understanding?”

“Of who you are. Of why you do the things you do. Of how it’s possible for you to make me feel this way. Of why love is even on the radar after everything you’ve subjected me to.”

He smiles weakly. “Your conclusion?”

“I don’t have one yet,” I tell him in earnest. “It would help if I knew about Rose, Charles, and Hugh. Those three and I seem to be the central figures in your life. Do you know that you yelled out something when I startled you from your nightmare?”

Jeremy exhales and closes his eyes. “I did?”

“Yes. You screamed, ‘Don’t touch me, Rose’.”

I tilt his chin up. “I want to know what that means, Jeremy. I want to know who Rose is or was to you. What is your history? What is your past? I want to know, and I think I deserve to know, because now, officially, I have no secrets from you. You know why I remained at first. And you know what I heard you scream at night. Ultimate truth is what you were always after, wasn’t it? Truth and honesty and
trust
?

“It doesn’t go any deeper than this. You’ve seen me—all of me. I’ve told you how my attitude toward you has shifted. We have dozens—hundreds—of things left unresolved. But the core has been exposed. You know mine and I know yours. We’re even now, so to speak.

“So tell me, Jeremy. Will you let me see who you are? Will you finally lower your walls? Because I…I don’t have any left.”

Jeremy Stonehart looks at me in contemplative silence for a long time. Finally, he speaks.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” he says, standing, gently pushing me aside. “That is your choice? You’re not going to leave? You’re going to stay with me—despite everything I’ve done and all that I am capable of?”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, Jeremy, I’m staying. A thousand night hounds couldn’t chase me away. You are in possession of all my secrets now. What you do with them? That’s up to you.”

“I will treasure them,” he says firmly. “And I will tell you every single thing you want to know. About me. About Rose. About our past. But first,” he gives a sly little wink, “I think I’m long overdue for a shower.”

Chapter Sixteen

When Jeremy comes out an hour later, he is a man transformed.

His eyes are still a little red, to be sure, but otherwise he’s perfect. Flawless. Stunning. Handsome.

He’s shaved and changed. His hair is styled back as usual. His crisp grey suit is a far departure from the threadbare clothing from before.

And there I am, wearing a throwaway hoodie and sweats. Designer clothes of course—I don’t have anything else—but very much lacking compared to Jeremy Stonehart. Again, I feel slightly inadequate. Jeremy is an intimidating man. He has that effect.

I shake my head a little to cast aside those doubts. They serve no purpose and have no place. Not here. Not now. Not when there are so many more important things on the horizon.

“So,” Jeremy sits across from me. We’re in one of the massive living rooms on the ground floor of his mansion. The sun shining through the window makes the day feel crisp and full possibilities. It’s a drastic change from the darkened room I found Jeremy in earlier. “What do you want to know?”

“First things first,” I say. “Am I going back to work?”

Jeremy does not hesitate in answering, “No.”

“I thought so,” I mutter. “I want a computer, then.”

“Very well.”

“I don’t want it to be monitored.”

He frowns. “Fine,” he says finally.

“No tricks this time, Jeremy. You can’t reveal to me later that you’ve been watching data traffic on the network because it does not constitute monitoring on the computer. No technicalities. I don’t want anything I do on the computer to be visible to you.”

“Then protect it with a password,” he says with a slight smile. “This isn’t a big issue for me, Lilly.”

“Really? I think it still is.”

“Maybe,” he muses. “Maybe you’re right. But I won’t
make
an issue out of it—if that makes a difference.”

“It does,” I say. “Thank you.”

He gestures for me to go on.

“Who put my arm in a splint?”

“A nurse. The same one who helped me assess the state of your health when you were in the dark.”

“Not Rose?” I ask.

Jeremy smiles. “No,” he says. “Not her.”

“Then who?”

“A friend who owes old favors.”

“Not…your brother, either, right?”

Jeremy’s eyes darken for a frightening moment. Then he answers, “No. Not him.”

“Okay,” I say. “Fine. My take on this is that, every time you do something…
unfortunate
to me, you have somebody on call to ensure that I survive? Is that right?”

“Why, Lilly,” Jeremy muses. “You seem to have picked up some of that clinical detachment you constantly accuse me of.”

I’m almost relaxed enough to stick my tongue out at him. But that would undermine what I’m trying to achieve.

I make do with a smug, quaint smile.

“Next,” I say. “We have to discuss Rose.”

“Yes,” Jeremy agrees. “We do.”

“So?” I ask. “Who is she? What’s her connection with your father? With you? She didn’t know he was coming to dinner that night. And Charles. Why did
Charles
attack Hugh? What the hell was going on? What kind of catastrophe did you dream up?”

“The meeting between Rose and my father…” Jeremy exhales. “…was long overdue.”

“I could deduce that much.”

“Do you remember that day in Boston, when I asked you if Hugh mentioned Rose?”

“Yes,” I say. “I didn’t know why he would.”

“Odds are, he wouldn’t have,” Jeremy says. “He did not know that she worked for me.”

“Worked?” I say. “As in, past tense? You said you dismissed her and Charles. Are they not here anymore? I can’t imagine you would just let them go. But I saw their house. It was abandoned.”

“That’s…currently in flux,” Jeremy says. “I had to know where I stood with you before making my final choice.”

“And?”

“They’re both physically well. Rose has a broken nose. But you were the one who suffered the most injury that night. And for that—again—I am truly sorry.”

“Jeremy,” I look right in his eyes. “Stop apologizing. It’s unlike you. I told you how little those words mean to me, anyway.”

“You think they’re empty,” he says. “Coming from me.”

“Not just from you, no,” I shake my head. “From anybody. Apologies have never meant a lot. Actions define a person better than later remorse.”

“Spoken almost like a man,” Jeremy chuckles.

“Well, I’m not as sentimental as most women.”

“No,” he agrees. “You most certainly are not. Another reason you hold such sway over me.”

The smile that forms on my lips is completely natural.

“So,” I say, looking away to hide my growing blush. “Your father didn’t know Rose worked for you. Likewise, she didn’t know Hugh was under your employment. Right?”

“Correct.”

“But they do have history.” I sit up and face Jeremy. “Tell me. Who is Rose? What has she done to you? Why did you cry out for her to get away in your nightmare?”

“I had a flashback,” Jeremy says. “To my youth.”

“Tell me.”

“Rose was…she was one of my father’s associates. She worked with him side-by-side in his company.”

“I knew it!” I burst out. “I knew she was more than she appeared.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t even begin to explain our relationship.” Jeremy sighs. “These are dark memories, Lilly. Ones I did not think I would be forced to revisit.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I have to know.”

“Yes,” Jeremy exhales. “That you do.

“It started when I was twelve. My father did not bring any of his colleagues to our home. He hosted the occasional festive dinner where all of us had to pretend we were a normal, functional, family. But other than that? Nothing.

“It was a charade, every time. My father and my two older brothers were bound together on one side. My mother and I were on the other. A split had come over our family. It was long overdue. Sides were chosen and alliances were made. Of course, like any internal conflict, the lines were perpetually blurred.

“I looked up to my brothers, despite their obvious disdain for me. And I always tried to live up to my father’s expectations. I told you the story of the gun. Even with that hanging in the background and constantly looming over us, tainting whatever relationship he and I might have had, I still wanted to make him proud. But I was just a boy. I didn’t know any better.

“Anyway. The year I was twelve, I was first introduced to Rose. She came over for the holiday dinner. I remember it clearly because the sort of open affection my father displayed toward her that night made it obvious to me they were having an affair.

“Of course, as a boy of twelve, I didn’t even know the meaning of the word. I just knew that the way my father interacted with Rose was the way he should have always interacted with my mother. That made me hate him—and her—even more.

“My mother was not particularly ill-affected. I mean, she was stuck: trapped by her marriage and bound tightly to my father. But I think the real reason she remained with him…and the reason she was still his wife on the day she died… was because of me.

“She could not just leave him. Leaving him would mean leaving me. And she could not simply take me away with her. She’d already lost one son. Remember? My twin. She would not give up a second, no matter how harsh her living conditions were.

“So we all met Rose for the first time that night at Christmas dinner. In the new year, she started to become a staple in our home. My father would bring her with him after work. They would lock themselves in his office together. When I asked my brothers what they were doing, they snickered and told me, ‘work’.

“It’s clear now, with the benefit of hindsight, with the benefit of age, what was going on. But as a twelve-year-old boy? All I had was an inkling. I had no idea they were having sex. I had no idea they were fucking in the same bed in which I was conceived.”

Jeremy’s voice takes on a heated zeal. “But one night, I saw them. I walked in on them, Lilly, while going for a glass of milk. They were fucking right in the open, right in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“They didn’t expect anyone to find them. It was late at night. The entire house was asleep. They thought they were safe—or maybe they just didn’t care.

“Anyway. I watched them, fascinated, disgusted, repulsed, intrigued and curious all at once. You don’t know what it’s like to walk in on your father having sex—especially when it’s your first live encounter of the act. It stays with you for life. The images… I can recall the images with crystal clarity, even now.”

He trails off. His jaw clenches.

Suddenly, so much more of Jeremy’s behavior and attitude towards sex makes sense.

But this isn’t at the heart of it. Not even close. I have a suspicion of what he’s building to. It’s been there, lurking in the back of my mind, ever since I heard the words:
Don’t touch me, Rose.

He continues:

“She saw me first. She gasped, and brought my father’s attention to me. He cursed and broke away.

“Now imagine this: Your father, stalking toward you, half-nude, his erection at the same level as your face, swinging back and forth with each angry step. What do you do, if you’re twelve? Do you run away? Or do you stand frozen on the spot, half-amazed, half-terrified?

“Of course you can’t move. Of course all you do is stare. When my father struck me and knocked me down, screaming at me to get out, only then did I scamper away.

“We did not speak of the incident the next day…or the following week. I could not share it with anybody. How could I? I was ashamed, embarrassed. And my father’s lewd glances told me he knew exactly how I felt.

“So I tried to imagine the whole thing as a bad dream—as nothing more than a night terror. But nothing could erase the memory from my mind.