Uncovering You 8: Redemption

by Scarlett Edwards

  It is not the word of a gold digger versus the word of a powerful business mogul anymore.

  But I obviously don’t want that. I obvious don’t want Jeremy gone. If I did, it would have happened by now.

  No…I roll my head to the side and look out the window. I don’t want Jeremy gone. I find him fascinating. He is the most interesting person I have ever met. There are so many sides to him, so many conflicting personalities, all contained within one shell. The common factor uniting all of them is…

  Me.

  I am at the heart of it all. It is not pompous or presumptuous to think so. No matter who Jeremy is, no matter what his mindset might be, his personal life revolves around me. He has made it so. It is the reality he crafted for himself, just like he crafted Stonehart Industries.

  He told me that he is a man who does because he can. Those words stuck with me. They give one of the most important insights into his mind.

  The whole world is open to him. It is not the false illusion that I maintained in college, when we were told, time and time again, that the world is our oyster. That we could accomplish anything we wanted, should we just have the courage to reach out and grab it.

  Pfft. I scoff. What a crockpot full of lies. The world is nothing but closed doors and miles and miles of red tape for a fresh college graduate—out of the Ivy League or not. You’re unproven when you’re young. Inexperienced. You prove it just by virtue of believing the whole ‘oyster’ line.

  But Jeremy is the embodiment of those words. He has the power. He has the wealth. He has the influence to do anything he’s ever wanted. And he chooses to spend all his time focusing on me.

  It’s astounding—mind-numbing even—that I could mean so much to him. I’ve thought about his declaration of love, his confession of true feelings for me. Whereas I rejected it at first, probably out of a sense of self-preservation, I do not doubt the veracity of those feelings and more. They didn’t make sense to me, at first. I did not allow them to make sense.

  They do now. He’s not an idiot; nor is he naïve. He knows he’s given me all the tools necessary to destroy him. I’m sure he has some contingency measures in place in case I do try—his hold over my father, for example, or his influence over my mother. But, if I were to try it, I’d be able to match him blow for blow.

  He’s given me all those tools…and then left me to them. He did not restrict what I could or could not do. In that way, at least, we seem like just a regular couple.

  That simple knowledge was probably enough for me to start to take his claim of love at face value. It took a while, but I think I’m finally there.

  It’s worth more, somehow, than the removal of the collar. Or even the burning of the contract. Those were physical things, physical actions to convince me of his word. Were either of the two still present…well, things would be vastly different, obviously. But they would also hang over our heads. Mine and Jeremy’s both. Now, we’re both free of those shackles, and free to see where the future takes us—with no doubts…and even fewer explanations.

  Except…of course there are expectations, always. Expectations for my behavior. Certain rules I still must follow.

  I understand them, implicitly. What’s more, I understand the need for them. I’m starting to get a glimpse of who Jeremy Stonehart is. Who he is when he is unguarded. Who he is when he is around me. Who he is, and who he can become, with my growing influence.

  I no longer doubt I can change him. He’s let me in enough for that. Somehow, I’ve gained enough power over his life.

  Of course, so much about him is still shrouded in mystery. I don’t even know what company he’s trying to acquire tonight, for crying out loud!

  But that type of knowledge is not particularly important to me. I mean yes, I am curious about what he thinks could be so crucial to Stonehart Industries that he called the proceedings ‘the most’ important negotiations of his life. But that is not at the essence of what I want to know. That tells me less about Jeremy Stonehart, as a man, than it does about Jeremy Stonehart, billionaire business tycoon.

  And it’s the man I want to know about. I could learn about his business dealings by picking up the latest issue of Forbes. Anybody could. That is not what is critical to me.

  Critical things are: What did he mean when he was talking about the psychological scars I’ve suffered, that he had the same done to him? What did he mean, when he told me, so long ago, that he got revenge on his father—only for me to find out now that he keeps the man on his board.

  And, especially: what did Hugh mean when he implied that it was he who had helped Jeremy with my abduction? Moreover, why did Jeremy ask me if Hugh had mentioned Rose?

  Those are the questions that are important to my life. Those are the people who are important in my life. Not Robin, and—as much as I hate to admit it—not Fey.

  I’m on an island all by myself. But it is an island I willingly swam to. Out in the open water, when I could have asked for help, when I could have screamed and begged for attention from the passing ships, I chose to turn my nose up and go at it on my own.

  It’s what I chose, I reflect as I look around the empty, lonesome room. It’s what I chose.

  Chapter Eight

  Jeremy surprises me by sneaking into the room.

  I’d dozed off in the armchair without realizing it as I was contemplating my life. With all the lights off, the situation was eerily similar to the transgression that earned me my last stay in the dark.

  “Lilly,” he says softly, touching my cheek. “Lilly, it’s done.”

  “Hmm?” I mutter, still half asleep. The instincts that would have had me on guard following an unexpected arrival are now nonexistent. In fact, I turn my head into his hand, loving the feel of his fingers against my skin, inviting him to keep going.

  He strokes his hand back and forth, and then kneels down beside me. “You’re so beautiful when you sleep,” he whispers.

  I smile at the compliment. “What’s done?” I mumble.

  “The deal. We struck it at the eleventh hour, as always happens in those types of negotiations. The urgency that’s needed emerges only when time is tight.”

  “Congratulations,” I say. “So now you’re free?”

  “For the moment, yes,” he muses. “And so are you.”

  “Jeremy, wait,” I stop his hand before it can start exploring my body. “We need to talk first. We didn’t get a chance last night. And you interrupted things the last time I tried.”

  “What’s the rush?” he asks. He twists his hand out of my grip, but then connects our palms. “Time is not at a premium. You and I have all night. You avoided an altercation among you, me, and your two friends. After bringing them here, you fixed things of your own accord. I checked. Both of them left on a flight to New Haven hours ago.”

  “Still don’t trust me entirely, huh?”

  “No.” He tightens his grip. “You, I trust with my life. It’s Fey and Robin who are the unknowns.”

  “And now they’re dealt with,” I say.

  “Now they’re dealt with,” he confirms. He walks to the bed and beckons me to follow. I give him a sly glance as I do.

  I sit beside him. He nuzzles my neck.

  “Aren’t you ever tired?” I ask. I’m half amused by his persistence, and more than a little flattered that he still has the energy for me after God knows how many meetings he’s had over the last few days.

  “Seeing you washes away all the fatigue.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” I murmur. I sigh with pleasure as his kisses reach the sensitive spot right beside my collarbone.

  Then—and it takes all the willpower I possess—I push him away. “We need to talk,” I insist.

  Jeremy exhales. “You’re firm on that, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not the only one who’s firm,” I quip, glancing between his legs.

  He chuckles. “Fine, Lilly. If that’s what you want. But let me change first.”

  He stands up. I lean back
on the bed, eyeing him with one brow raised. He gives me a knowing, provocative look, and strips out of his jacket.

  Then he unbuttons his shirt, slowly, meeting my eyes the entire time.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to seduce me,” I say, smiling as his shirt falls off and his delicious body is revealed.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in a prime position to be seduced,” Jeremy says.

  “Not now.”

  “I know, I know,” he relents, holding up his hands. “I know you want to talk. But can’t a man change into some comfortable pants when he returns for the night?” He glances down at his tented slacks. “These are somewhat…constricting.”

  I start licking my lips then catch myself, and stop.

  “Perhaps I could elicit your help with that?”

  “Perhaps not,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him. “At least, not until later. I’m not putting this off, Jeremy.”

  “I like you when you’re assertive,” he growls.

  And then, he leaps at me.

  I’m caught totally off guard. I shriek as he pulls me to the mattress and starts kissing my neck again. He moves his mouth further down, nuzzling his head between my breasts, kissing me through the layer of clothes. I can feel his erection against my leg.

  “Jeremy, no. Jeremy, stop!” I can’t help but laugh when he starts blowing raspberries in the crook of my neck. I play fight with him. “Jeremy, let go!”

  “You don’t want me to let go,” he says. He wraps his arms around my body and holds me to him, tight. “You don’t ever want me to let go. And I don’t think I ever will.”

  Something sure and undeniable comes to life within me on hearing those words. It’s a foreign feeling, and it comes from the very depths of my soul.

  I don’t want him to.

  I freeze. Jeremy notices. He lets go.

  “Lilly?” he asks, his face a mask of concern. “Lilly, what’s wrong?”

  The only reply I can give is to shake my head at him. “No,” I say softly. Then I repeat it again. “No, no, no, no.”

  “No, what?” Jeremy rolls off me. He gives me the thinnest margin of space.

  “No,” I say again. I’m suddenly reciting. “No, no, no, no.”

  “Lilly! Talk to me. What happened? Did I do something wrong? Fuck!” he curses. “This is what I talked about before. Isn’t it? The trigger?”

  He takes both my hands, and looks me in the eyes. “Talk to me, Lilly Flower. I don’t want to cause it again. It’s my fault, isn’t it? Dammit!” He slams one fist against the mattress. “Of course it’s my fucking fault. It’s what I put you through.”

  I keep saying, “No, no, no, no.”

  The reason why I’m saying it…the reason the barrage of empty words won’t stop…is that I just glimpsed my own true feelings.

  I love Jeremy Stonehart.

  And I am terrified of that.

  “I need…air.” I break away. Run to the window. Fling it open. Gasp in the freezing January cold.

  I look down. A sense of vertigo takes me. I’m so high up. I feel tipsy, like the slightest nudge would have me falling over the ledge…

  Desperately, I back away. Or rather, I try to. My feet catch. I fall to the floor in a great heap. I scramble up before Jeremy can get to me, and find the room still spinning. There are multiples of him. Everything is all wrong. It’s worse than a bad trip or a horrifying nightmare. It’s worse because all of it is reality.

  And I can’t get a grip on it.

  I close my eyes, trying to shut away the world. The hotel room. Jeremy. My new feelings…Everything. I feel warmth flow into me from the bottom. I don’t fight that feeling. I let it wash over me, doing away with fears, with concerns, with stress. I let it wash over me until there is nothing left but the empty existence of my mind and that deceptive, comforting warmth.

  I fade away.

  ***

  When I come to, I am in a hospital ward.

  I recognize it immediately because of the stark white walls, the linoleum tiles coating the floor. By the bright, artificial lights shining high above me.

  I roll over and groan. My whole body hurts, like I’ve been through the battering ram and back.

  Why?

  “Lilly Ryder?” An unfamiliar female voice says my name. I look and see a nurse entering the room. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m…okay,” I say. I push myself up, and find that the aches are not quite as bad as I first imagined them. At worst, they are what I would feel after a sleepless night.

  “What happened to me?” I look around the room, and am struck again by all the white. Something about it feels wrong. “This isn’t Massachusetts General Hospital. Is it?”

  “No,” the nurse says. “This is a private facility. The Hermann Grace Medical Center. Try to sit up, please. I need to check your vitals.”

  I scooch upright. The nurse takes my blood pressure, measures my heartrate, checks my temperature, shines a bright light into both eyes all with a detached efficiency.

  All I can think of while she’s doing it is: Where’s Jeremy? Why isn’t he here?

  She finishes jotting down all the information, and says, “Dr. Telfair will see you shortly.”

  “Dr. Telfair.” Why does that name ring a bell?

  She exits the room, leaving me to ponder that thought.

  I don’t get very long. No more than five minutes later, the door opens again—and Jeremy walks in.

  Except, he’s not Jeremy. He’s wearing a white GP lab coat. His hair is shorter than it was last night—almost a crew cut.

  What the hell? He had time to get a haircut while I was here?

  He looks at me, and smiles, “Hello, Miss Ryder.”

  Miss Ryder? Since when am I Miss Ryder to him?

  “Jeremy, what’s going on?” I demand, sitting up again, quickly. Big mistake. The blood drains from my head. For a moment or two, the room spins.

  “Careful, now,” he murmurs. He strides up to me. His gait looks wrong. It’s not quite as confident, quite as self-assured as I remember.

  He adjusts something behind the bed. I look back. I am astounded when I see that I’m hooked up to an IV. I follow the trail of the clear plastic tube all the way to where it ducks under the sheets. I lift up one corner of the blanket, pull back the sleeve of my white robe, and see the needle inserted into my left arm.

  “What is this?” I hiss, getting angry now. Angry at myself for not noticing before. Angry at him for acting so indifferent. Angry at him for getting a fucking haircut while I was passed out!

  I move to pull the needle free. Before I get there, the most tranquil type of nirvana takes over my body.

  “That’s better,” he says.

  The words float to me like beautiful petals rising to the surface of a lake. My arms fall to the side of the bed, feeling numb and wonderful. My eyelids start to droop. A goofy smile takes over my face.

  I gaze up at Jeremy. “You’re so…beautiful,” I say, the words coming slowly. The worries and concerns have all gone away. The only thing I feel is a glowing, building sort of bliss. Everything is slow and unhurried. “This room,” I say, moving my head in a slow circle, “is so…beautiful.”

  I see Jeremy smile. I watch his lips move as he speaks. I can’t hear the words. I’m too far away. But his lips are so pretty. So wonderful. They fascinate me, with all their subtle contours and tiny lines and red…redness.

  My head swings to the other side. Was I worried before? Why? The memory is far away, like it happened a lifetime ago. A warmth creeps into me. The walls of the room, so starkly white, are no longer alarming. They are beautiful, wonderful. Pristine. They make me think of the cool freshness of newly-fallen snow, peeked at from behind a heavy glass window with a roaring fire at your side. Of the promise of the white Christmases of my childhood.

  There are sounds in the air. Beautiful sounds. Amazing sounds. My head lolls back. I can see Jeremy agai
n. Only this time, he is surrounded by a haze, like an angel descended from heaven. I know, on some level, that those sounds are coming from his lips. From his mouth. I know, on some level, that I should be able to understand them. To draw meaning from the words…

  I cannot. That knowledge does not frighten me. Rather, it sends me deeper into my tranquil space. I am surrounded by sounds, by beautiful notes, by the treble of his voice and the wonderful, beautiful, clean white room.

  A thought bubbles up from deep in my conscious. From a part that has not yet been put under the spell:

  I’ve been drugged!

  Oh, yes. I smile at the idea. I’ve definitely been drugged.

  It does not alarm me. On the contrary, it feels…wonderful.

  Never want to leave the state that I am in.

  Slowly, as if time has ceased to hold any meaning, I become aware of another voice. A second one, joining the choir. This one is more familiar. It is more…

  I close my eyes and soak it in. More…mine.

  Again, slowly, the sounds of an argument come to me. One voice battling another. Something tells me I need to see. Something tells me I need to reemerge. It is almost like a longing, a craving for that second voice. A need, a desire to see who it is coming from.

  I blink, rising from the depths. I feel my body as a part of me. But, at the same time, it is not. I exist solely in my mind. I have achieved the ultimate disassociation.

  As my eyes flicker open, and I reconnect with the world, I see that things have…changed. They’ve shifted. Warped. I do not find the bright lights of fluorescent lamps above me anymore, but a breathtaking view of a clear, blue sky. I feel warmth, not from inside of me, but from the outside, radiating from my face. I know it clearly as the warmth of the sun. I know it with the same certainty that a child knows her mother’s voice.

  The argument, the two battling voices around me, continue.

  Has it ever stopped? I am not sure.

  In the moment I drifted away, an entire lifetime might have passed. Or no time at all. I cannot be certain, and that sort of ignorance grants me bliss.