Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (40 page)

If that doesn’t show how little a threat he thinks I am, nothing does.

I gargle in the bathroom, trying to erase the taste of
him
from my tongue. What made the whole experience worse was my knowing that only a few days before, he’d been fucking another woman a foot above where my head was bobbing up and down.

I didn’t think that would affect me, but—surprise—it does. Listening to them having sex while blindfolded was better. Maybe it’s because, back then, my anger served as a buffer between reality and my emotions.

At the very end, to add insult to injury, he shot his load into my mouth with no warning. Then he patted my head, muttered, “Good girl,” and did up his pants.

It was the most demeaning dismissal I’ve ever received.

***

When I come out of the bathroom, thoroughly perturbed, I find a small note left for me on the bed.

I will be gone for fifteen days. When I return, you will greet me with the enthusiasm proper for one in your position.

He didn’t even sign the damn thing!

My moment of indignation quickly passes when I realize what the note means:

Stonehart is gone! He’s actually
gone
!

Not gone for good, of course. However, two blessed weeks apart is more than I could have ever hoped for. Even better, I have full access to the house
and
the property. And now that I know that I can go into Stonehart’s office without tripping the collar…

Giddy excitement builds inside and washes away all the bad feelings from earlier.
Two weeks
. I have two weeks to do whatever I want.

The first order of business is finally making good on the promise I made myself when I signed the contract.

Chapter Fifteen

The very first thing I do, that night, when I’m sure that Stonehart isn’t lurking somewhere in the mansion, is walk up to the doors of his office. I have every intention of going inside. I don’t care if his cameras will catch me doing it. I need
information
, and what little I can find in the rest of the house is of absolutely no use.

But when I try the door, it’s not my collar that bars me from proceeding further, but something much more antique:

The lock.

I give a disappointed grunt. Did I really expect things to be this easy?

Well, in truth… yes. It’s probably a function of becoming too accustomed to having every single door in the house unlocked.

Swayed but undeterred, I wander out to find Rose.

But I don’t see Stonehart’s housekeeper anywhere. Disappointment fills me. I was looking forward to the opportunity to chat with her without Stonehart around.

It looks like I won’t get the chance today. Maybe tomorrow?

I spend the evening in the library, reading a short children’s book. I found it half-hidden behind a corner shelf. I wouldn’t have ever noticed it if I hadn’t dropped the book I was holding and bent down to pick it up.

The cover is worn and some of the pages have small rips on the edges. The book is unlike anything else in the library. I would have never expected to find a
children’s
book in here.

It’s about a little dragon that was born with brilliant white scales, instead of the dark green ones of his brothers and sisters. They all make fun of him for it. But, in the end, the dragon king acknowledges the white scales as the epitome of beauty, and the white dragon wins the praise of all his siblings and peers.

It’s a charming story if you ignore the heavy-handedness of the message behind it. However, that is not what intrigues me most.

It’s the fact that this was
Stonehart’s
book that has me curious.

Most likely, he never thought I’d find it. He probably hid it in here long ago and forgot all about it. For better or for worse, it’s all I have about him at the moment. It’s the only real piece I have of Stonehart’s history.

I go to bed and dream about getting through those two locked doors to his office.

Chapter Sixteen

The next day, I wake up hoping to see Rose. But when I stroll into the main part of the mansion, I find it eerily quiet.

“Hello?” I venture. “Is anybody here?”

Getting no answer, I sit at the kitchen table and wait for breakfast. Today might be the day I meet Charles for the first time, if he’s the one to bring it to me.

But after a good half hour, nobody comes. I decide to check out the kitchen myself.

I find it just as empty as the rest of the house.
That’s strange
, I think.
Did Stonehart give Charles and Rose time off?

I’m still not certain about either of their living arrangements. There are so many damned rooms in this place that any of them might easily be theirs. Somehow, though, I get the feeling that Stonehart and I are the only permanent residents here.

Where does Rose spend her nights? I don’t know.

I open the fridge and stagger back at the amount of food inside. It’s fully stocked. Not only that, but the interior contains four times more space than any fridge I’ve seen before.

Everything here is larger-than-life.

It’s a strange sensation to be making my own breakfast, I reflect, as I pull out a frying pan and crack open a few eggs. I haven’t had the chance to do it in forever.

It feels good to make food for myself. It offers the illusion of self-sufficiency.

It’s the closest I’ll get to independence here.

After finishing my meal, I bring the dishes to the sink, wash them, and return them to the cupboards. Then, I stand back, tap my foot, and look around the monstrous, sunlit kitchen .

It’s an impressive space. Everything is gleaming, silver steel. The appliances are spotless; the floors are shining. If I had more culinary talent, I would have enjoyed spending time in here.

But, I have more important things to do. There are secrets in this house—there must be—and I’m intent on ferreting them out.

A burst of inspiration hits me.
Secrets
. In the
surveillance room
. I’m definitely allowed in there, and maybe the video feeds will help me discover something I can use to my advantage. At least, I’ll be able to see if Stonehart brought any other women back to his house.

Shit
. I bring my hand to my forehead and rub my temples. How petty do I sound? Who
cares
if Stonehart brings other women here? I certainly should not.

Those thoughts imply emotional attachment. I need to steer clear of that dangerous trap.

Once again, my plans are foiled when I find the secret entrance on the wall in Stonehart’s bedroom closed. I trace the thin outline with my fingertips. It doesn’t budge—no matter how hard I try to push it open.

Maybe there’s a button somewhere, like the one under the table in the hall. I scour the room but do not find it. I give it another sweep, making sure to double-check any suspicious-looking crevices and hiding places.

Nothing.

I grind my teeth in frustration. It’s almost like Stonehart doesn’t
want
me to find anything I’m not supposed to see.

I spend the remainder of the day in the library.

***

The third morning, I wake up with the resolution to go outside. I need to get the lay of the land if I intend to break out.

I roll my eyes at the thought. The collar guarantees I can’t go anywhere Stonehart doesn’t want me to.

But when I get out of bed, I find heavy rain pelting the ground outside.

I groan.

It’s amazing how little there is for me to do in a house this size. You’d think that having an enormous estate at your disposal would ensure you’re never bored.

That is definitely not the case.

Aside from distracting myself by cooking some barebones meals, and with no inclination to read, I don’t have much to do to pass the time.

***

Rose is nowhere to be seen by day four. Neither is Charles. And the weather just keeps getting worse and worse.

I spend the remainder of the week in a state of disquietude and increasing anxiety.

I wake up one morning with the realization that
seven days
have passed with me on my own. What have I done with them?

Absolutely nothing.

A crazy idea occurs to me that night. If there’s nobody here… and I have full access to the kitchens, where I spotted some impressive chef’s knives before… what’s to stop me from simply sawing the collar off and making a run for it?

The idea is so obvious it’s a wonder I didn’t think of it before. I fling the blanket off and rush to the kitchen.

The lights, triggered by motion sensors, all turn on automatically as I run through the house.

I rip one drawer open and pick up the most evil-looking knife. The blade is sharp and thin. I heft it in my hand… and hesitate.

The collar is pretty tight. I’d need to wedge the knife in right against my skin. What if I cut myself?

But that’s not such a big concern, in the grand scheme of things. More distressing is what Stonehart would do if he discovered I tried—and failed.

Carefully, and with the utmost control, I lower the knife into the drawer.

Then I return to bed. Under safety of the covers, away from the cameras, I explore the collar with my fingers. It’s slightly flexible, and deceptively strong. Even if I managed to jam a knife in there, I don’t think I could saw it open.

Besides, it feels like there’s a metal ring underneath the coated plastic. That would make sense. It could be the battery. And it would mean that my effort to slice through it would have been futile.

All it would have done is incite Stonehart’s wrath.

With those uncomfortable thoughts running through my head, I drift off into another uneasy sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Nightmares haunt my dreams. Nightmares about snakes, and collars, and Stonehart. Always, he is at the heart of them all.

I wake up tangled in my sheets and drenched in sweat. I remember fighting
something
in my dreams… but what, I can’t be sure. The memory is quickly fading.

I waste another day stuck indoors because of the rain. Tomorrow, I promise myself, I will go outside, no matter what the weather.

Bored, alone, and increasingly uneasy, I start to doubt whether I’ll gain any benefit from the two-week break. It’s a weight off my shoulders not to worry about what Stonehart will ask of me next, to be sure, but I’d envisioned that time apart would be, well,
different
.

I thought that with him gone, and with unfettered access to the house, I’d be able to dig something up that could arm me against him.

I was wrong. The children’s book I found the first day is the only thing I have, and that’s not much use. All it does is confirm that Stonehart
did
have a childhood, no matter how hard that is to imagine.

He told me that story about growing up and being neglected for being born last. He spoke of the revenge he exacted on his father.

He wouldn’t have told me that if it wasn’t important. I suspect that building Stonehart Industries from the ground was predicated on proving to his family that he was worth something.

Well, he certainly did that.

I know just as little now as I did when he left. That’s incredibly frustrating.

“Stonehart, Stonehart, Stonehart,” I mutter, staring at the locked doors of his office. “You are as much a mystery as ever.”

I sigh, turn back, and retreat to the library.

***

The next morning fills me with a renewed sense of purpose. I slept poorly again, but my decision to go outside rain or shine outweighs the grogginess of my brain.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I find a glorious, sunny day out there.

I dress quickly and bolt out the door. The fresh air hits me and I take a long, deep breath. It tastes sweet.

I look around, trying to decide where to go. I settle on north. I’ve never been to that part of the grounds before.

After walking for a good twenty minutes or so along the cliffs, I come across a path leading into the evergreens. Curious, I wander down the paved surface... and discover a marvelous guesthouse nestled in the foliage.

It’s bright and modern with cedar beams and lots of glass. It looks like a smaller—much, much smaller—and more compact version of the main house.

But still so much bigger than anything I’d ever be able to afford.

I walk to the front doors, wondering if they’re unlocked. Suddenly, I feel a sharp tingle under my left ear.

I stop immediately and tense up.
No…

I take a step back. The tingling disappears. I step forward—and the slight warning from the collar comes again.

Unnerved, I turn around and walk briskly to the nearest tree. Stonehart doesn’t want me going to the guesthouse.

Why?

At that moment, I see a shape move past one window. It takes me an extra few seconds to realize that it’s Rose. She’s wearing a bathrobe. I’ve never seen her in anything other than her housekeeping uniform.

She’s gone in the blink of an eye. I want to call out and somehow get her attention, but I doubt she’ll hear me through the walls. Besides, it’s very early morning. She’s probably just getting started with her day.

A day that includes a visit to see me? I wonder.

Well, even if I came close to activating the collar, the morning hasn’t been a total loss. I solved the mystery of where Rose goes when she’s not in the main house.

The question is: Why hasn’t she come to see me for an entire week?

It could be as simple as Stonehart forbidding her to. But he seems to trust her. At least, as far as he trusts anybody.

I jump when the garage door noisily lifts open. I watch, out of view, as a black Rolls Royce pulls out. I see Rose in the passenger seat, still wearing that bathrobe. A slightly older man I’ve never seen before is driving.

Maybe Charles?

Then it hits me: What if Rose and Charles are husband and wife? I’ve never seen her wear a ring, but lots of married women don’t—especially ones who’ve been in the relationship for a long time.