Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (79 page)

The one thing Jeremy would not do was scream. He would never scream. He would not call for help. Not because he knew that help would not come—that much was obvious—but because screaming would be the final admission of defeat. And while his brother could do whatever he wanted with Jeremy’s body, he would never get the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected Jeremy’s
mind
.

He grunted and kicked and squirmed as his brother pulled him free. Jeremy’s book lay forgotten under the chair.

Robert sat atop him, making it impossible for Jeremy to breathe. He grinned down like a madman.

“What are you doing up here, huh, kid?” he asked. A fist collided with Jeremy’s ribs. Pain exploded up the side of his body. “Looking for mommy?” Another punch. Another searing jolt of pain. “Well, guess what, you useless cunt? Mommy’s not here!”

A flurry of punches rained down on Jeremy’s body. He tried to shield himself from the onslaught.

Robert grabbed Jeremy’s hair and jerked his head up. The sharp agony splintering down his spine was almost enough for Jeremy to break his vow of silence.

Almost. But not quite.

“What do you have to say for yourself, huh?” Robert demanded. “What are you going to tell father when I let him know where I found you?”

Robert spat in his face. Jeremy flinched.

Then, the weight on his body was being lifted. Jeremy gasped for air, filling his lungs with the precious nectar.

“Get up,” Robert demanded. He kicked Jeremy in the spleen. “Get up! We’re going straight to father. He’s not going to be happy with you when… Hello! What’s this?”

No! Jeremy thought. No, please don’t…

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Robert laughed. “No way. No fucking way. You still keep this garbage?”

He leaned down and picked up the book that had been exposed when the chair skidded to one side during the struggle.

Robert held the book high. The front cover fell open. All the pictures that Jeremy loved, that he treasured, flew by as the pages rifled down. The bright blue skies. The green pastures.

The colorful dragons.

“This,” Robert announced, “is utter garbage. Father told you to get rid of it months ago.” His eyes widened, and he turned toward the open fire. Jeremy could see the idea forming in his brother’s head.

“No!” Jeremy said. “Robert, give it back. It-it-it-it-it’s mine!”

“
It-it-it-it-it’s mine,”
Robert mimicked. “I’m going to do what father should have done long ago. I’m going to—“

“
Robert Blackthorne
! You put that book down.”

Jeremy’s head whipped toward the sound of the voice. There, standing in the middle of the open doorway, was his mother. An angry red welt marred half her face, making it soft and puffy. It would bruise horribly by the morning.

Robert froze, halfway through the motion of raising his hand. He glared at their mother. He took one look at Jeremy, another back at her, and then threw the book across the floor.

Jeremy scrambled to pick it up.

“You deserve
everything
father gives you,” Robert spat. “Ungrateful whore.”

And then he stomped out of the room.

Jeremy waited until the footsteps were out of hearing before running and flinging himself into his mother’s arms. Even her gentle hug hurt his new injuries. But Jeremy knew that she could not have known what Robert had done. That only left one answer for why she held him so loosely.

She was harboring similar ones.

“There, there,” she cooed in his ear. “Shhh, my little prince. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Everything is okay. Mommy’s here. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

The little boy did not know that he was crying. He’d always tried to make himself strong, to make himself appear impressive in his father’s eyes.

But sometimes, the façade became too much to bear.

“You brought our book.” His mother smoothed his hair and touched his cheek. “Would you like me to read it to you again?”

Jeremy bit his lip to stop from blubbering. He nodded.

His mother smiled. The beauty of that smile shone through the ugliness of what his father had done.

“Okay,” she said. She took his hand. “Okay, let’s go to my room.”

Chapter One

I spend the weekend in a state of semi-delirious shock.

Jeremy takes care of me. That sounds like such an unbelievable, ridiculous thing to say. That I would
allow
the man whose plot for vengeance, whose focus on me began over something I had no responsibility for to care for me when the truth finally came out…it makes me seem weak, pathetic, frail.

And maybe I am. Maybe I am so far down the rabbit hole with Jeremy Stonehart that there is no getting out. I’ve already made my choice to stand by him. Have my reasons for that changed, now that I know why he chose me?

No.

No, because his reason, however farfetched, however juvenile it may be, has not changed my motivations. It has not changed my plans.

Most importantly, it has not changed what has happened between Jeremy and me since I was taken last October.

Most of Saturday, I spend in bed. The first half of Sunday is much the same. Jeremy gives me space when he feels that I need it. But he is always within earshot. He brings me meals. I nibble on some food but leave most of it untouched.

The ticking clock on the far wall of the bedroom becomes my greatest foe. When Monday morning hits, it’s back to work for Jeremy and me. I feel time pressure, the likes of which I haven’t experienced in ages, weighing down on me.

I need to get my head straight before returning to Stonehart Industries. I would not be doing anybody any favors were I to follow up my performance the first week by being lackadaisical and sloppy the second.

Like Jeremy taught me, it’s all about appearances.

But what happens when you let somebody see inside? What happens when there is no hiding behind a mask?

***

“We need to talk.” Jeremy’s voice rouses me from a restless slumber. “Lilly. You haven’t said a word other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ all weekend. I’ve given you time, but…”

He glances at the clock, now showing 8 p.m. “…I need to know. What are you thinking? How are you feeling? You can’t internalize this.”

I can try
, I think stubbornly.

“Your phone’s been ringing off the hook,” Jeremy says. “You need to answer. Fey will worry, otherwise.”

“She’s already worried,” I counter. “Wouldn’t you be, were you her?”

“Were I her…” Jeremy repeats my words, sounding thoughtful. “Were I her, I would do a million things differently, Lilly. I am not. Such hypotheticals are useless. What you need to do—what I need you to do—is speak to her. Assuage her fears. I am afraid if you don’t…” he sits on the side of the bed, “…she may do something very rash.”

“Are you still concerned I’ll betray you, Jeremy?” I ask. “I think I’ve proven where my loyalties lie.”

“Yes,” Jeremy says. He picks up my hand and cups it between his. “You’ve shown to me, time and time again, just how magnificent you truly are. I trust you, my sweet Lilly-Flower.”

He spreads my fingers open and kisses my palm. “And while I can never guess what’s going on inside that stunning head of yours, I believe you do trust me…just a little bit.”

I shiver as the warmth from his touch flows up my arm. “I do,” I whisper.

“Then I need you to call Fey.” Jeremy reaches back and takes out my phone. “Tell her that there is nothing wrong. Assure her that you are doing fine.”

He places the phone in my hand. “I can coach you, Lilly, on what you need to say. But I do not want to insult your intelligence by insisting on it. You understand the importance of alleviating your friend’s fears?”

I nod slightly. “I do.”

“Then I will leave you to it.” Jeremy stands. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll be in the other room.”

His eyes move over the shape of my body, hidden by the sheets. “You and I will talk…” his gaze settles into mine. An authoritative undertone enters his voice. “And afterwards,” he promises, “we will fuck.”

***

I stare at the phone in my hands for a long time before mustering up the courage to call.

“Call Fey,”
Jeremy had said. It’s the first thing in his order of priorities. I understand why. It should have been my first, too. I’d been too childish to look at it properly.

I turn my phone on and wince. Twenty missed calls, all from one number. All from Fey.

Shit, she must be freaking out. I remember what she suggested—coming to California with Robin and getting me out. I absolutely cannot have her do that.

So I take a deep breath, gather my strength, and dial the number.

She picks up on the first ring.

“Lilly!” she exclaims. “What the hell happened? Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I’ve been so worried about you. I couldn’t sleep. Where are you? Are you still there? Are you still
with him
? Oh God, I hope not. Please tell me you’re not, Lilly. Please tell me you’ve gotten away.”

Her words crash into me like water from behind a dam.

“Fey, slow down,” I say. “Breathe. Take a deep breath. I’m fine. I’m safe. And yes, I’m still with him.”

“
What?
” Her exclamation is so loud it makes me rip the phone from my ear. “What do you mean you’re still with him? Didn’t you hear what I told you? Aren’t you the
least bit
concerned about what Robin found?”

“Fey, look,” I begin, enunciating each word and speaking very clearly. “I need you to listen to me. Of course I’m concerned with what Robin found. But what Jeremy and I have is…complicated. It’s not your typical relationship.”

“No fucking shit it’s not!” Fey yells. She sounds like she’s on the verge of hysteria. “Lilly, the man’s insane. Okay, he’s rich, handsome, successful, whatever. But you have to realize you’re not safe with him. You have to understand—”

“No,” I cut her off with no remorse. “
You
have to understand, Fey! When I tell you I’m fine, I actually mean that. I’m not about to get up and leave. Not over something that happened so long ago, not over something that may or may not be true.”

“It’s true!” she insists. “Robin laid it all out for me. What he found—”

“And why are we taking what Robin found as accurate?” I ask, starting to get angry. “He’s not even out of school yet. He’s just a wannabe reporter. He doesn’t have the experience to—”

“Robin is
not
,” Fey proclaims, “a ‘wannabe reporter!’ How dare you insult him like that?”

“And how dare
you
presume to know what’s best for me?” I demand. My anger is in full swing, now. I must be channeling my inner Stonehart. “You said it yourself, Fey. I’ve changed. Well,
you’ve
changed, too! The Fey I knew before would be smart enough to realize that I can make my own decisions. I don’t need coddling or advice or warnings on how to live my life.
I
know what’s best for me, Fey! You hear that?
I
do! Not you, not Robin, not Jeremy, not my fucking mother…”

I trail off when I realize that I’m yelling. My heart is pounding hard. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins. I’m amped up, defiant, frustrated. All I can think of is:

Does my behavior all stem from the way my mother raised me?

Silence greets me on the other end of the line. I imagine if Fey and I were interacting face-to-face, it’d be a shocked silence.

But I’m not going to blink first. I wait for her to speak.

“Fine,” she says finally. Her voice has taken on aristocratic airs. “It’s obvious that you now consider yourself
superior
. Enjoy your new life, Lilly Ryder. And the next time you need a friend,
don’t
come to me.”

She hangs up.

Slowly, carefully, I bring the phone away from my ear. Slowly, carefully, I turn it off and lower it to my lap.

Then with a primal scream of pure rage, I throw it as hard as I can against the wall.

I fling the sheets off myself and march out the door. I find Jeremy sitting on a chaise lounge in the living room.

I go to him. He starts to stand. I don’t let him. I push his shoulders down and straddle his legs.

“You,” I say, my voice demanding and full of unrestrained emotion, “need to get naked.
Now
.”

He wastes no time complying.

Chapter Two

I’m edgy and irritated the next day at work. My tolerance for incompetence is at an all-time low. I snap at my entire team, knowing that I’m doing myself no favors in ingratiating myself to them as the newcomer to the job.

I don’t care. Jeremy gave me this position. He is the only one I feel responsible to. I will prove to him—and to everyone else—that this is not just a sweetheart deal.

Despite my disposition—or maybe because of it—the day is over before I know it. At 5:30, I’m about to step in the elevator (the same one where I had that electric first encounter with Jeremy Stonehart) when I feel a hand on my elbow.

“Jeremy,” I begin, turning around. “We’re not supposed to—”

I stop short. Standing behind me is not Jeremy Stonehart, but a grey-haired, spidery specter of a man. He stands only as tall as my shoulder. His face is creased with lines. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of orange-tinted glasses.

“Miss Ryder,” he says cordially. “If I may have a word?” He glances at the people standing around us. “In private?”

There’s something vaguely familiar about his face. It takes me a second to remember. When I do, my walls go up immediately.

I saw him once, many months ago, when Jeremy introduced me to his board. Back then, he was one of Jeremy’s most vocal opposers.

“I don’t think so,” I say, pulling my arm out of his grip. “I have to—”

“I’m afraid,” he says, taking hold of my arm again, “that I must insist.”

His fingers dig into my skin. He has a surprisingly strong grip for a man his size.

He steps closer to me. “You wouldn’t want to cause a scene before all these lovely people now, would you?”