Uncovering You 4: Retribution (10 page)

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.

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.

That would explain a lot. If Rose lives on Stonehart’s property with her husband, it gives Stonehart control over both their lives. She seems happy enough. It’s not the type of control Stonehart exerts over me. But, it could be the factor that ensures neither she nor Charles blabs about me.

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Of course, it could just be hogwash. However, I like imagining that Rose has a man in her life who makes her happy.

At least that makes one of us.

I look in the direction the car went. I’m not sure if walking after it will put me in danger of crossing the newfound boundary of my collar. Neither do I know if continuing north, across the lawn of the house, is such a good idea anymore, either.

Just to be safe, I decide to turn back.

I end up wandering the rest of the property, safely away from the guesthouse, for hours. I have no real purpose.

After an hour or so, I stifle a yawn. I wish I had brought a book with me. It’d be nice to read out here.

I look up at the sky. The sun is still bright overhead. I wonder what day it is. It must be sometime in November now, surely?

Growing up on the East Coast, I’ve never had a November where I could walk around outside in nothing but a light sweater.

I turn back to the house, yawning again. After two nights in a row of bad sleep, fatigue is catching up to me. Maybe I’ll go inside and take a quick nap…

***

I wake up hours later with a start. I look around, confused for a moment, trying to place myself. Then, remember what happened.

I fell asleep on a couch in one of Stonehart’s unused rooms. I just sat down and leaned back, closing my eyes for a breath…

And the next thing I knew, I was fast asleep.

I look out at the dark window. At least, I
try to
. I don’t see anything except my own reflection. Christ! I’ve been asleep for
hours
.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten all day.

Not like it’s the first time
, I think ruefully, then stretch out and wander to the kitchen.

As I walk through the halls, I wonder what it was that awoke me so suddenly. Had I heard some noise? Yes, I think so… maybe a bang or a door shutting?

But the house is dark. The lights are off everywhere. Nobody is here other than me.

I open the fridge and am immediately surprised to see it re-stocked. Had Charles or Rose come in when I was sleeping? That would explain the banging door…

But if it was Rose, why didn’t she wake me
?

I reach for a jar of peanut butter. The meals I’ve been making myself in Stonehart’s absence haven’t been exquisite. But, they have been blessedly simple. Sometimes, simple if all your soul wants.

I’d kill for some simplicity right now
, I think as I spread the peanut butter over a piece of toast. I bite into it. Even with nothing to do and nowhere to go, my thoughts are a jumble.

The clock on the wall tells me it’s a quarter to ten. This would usually be the time I go to bed, but that long nap has me wide awake. And—thank God—it came without nightmares.

I end up reading until the early hours of the morning, before dragging myself to bed. At that point, although I’m already tired sleep is still a long time coming.

When it arrives, it is filled with nightmares.

More useless days pass. The only accomplishment I hold claim to is finishing a few books.

I’ve fallen victim to an uneven schedule. I don’t sleep all night because of my dreams, and then make up for it with prolonged naps during the day. Sometimes, I find myself drifting off as my eyes slide lazily down the page of my book, not taking in a single word of what’s written there.

I wake up hours later surprised at how long I’ve been out.

Rose does not come to see me. It’s disappointing. I would have thought she’d jump on the chance to talk without Stonehart around. It even hurts, a little, to be neglected by her this way, especially now that I know how close she lives.

The only explanation I can come up with is the same one I had before: Stonehart forbade her seeing me.

The day before Stonehart’s arrival, I spend an hour in my closet picking out what to wear. One hour turns to two, then three, and before I know it the whole day has disappeared in some vortex of cloth and fabric.

I lay out the clothes I’ve finally settled on for tomorrow morning. I don’t know what time to expect him. So, I think it’s better to be ready as early as possible.

When I lie down to sleep, my nerves keep me awake. I’ve gotten so used to being without Stonehart that I’m not sure how I’ll react when I see him tomorrow. What’s more, that private gala is in two days, and I still don’t have anywhere near enough TGBs to go.

Is it off the table? Could he just take me anyway?
I don’t know.

After tossing and turning for hours without getting a minute of sleep, I give up and get out of bed. I pour myself a coffee in the kitchen and settle down in a second-floor room situated in front of a spectacular view of the sea.

I watch the sunlight creep over the lawn, minute by minute, lessening the shadow cast by the enormous house. When it’s bright enough for birds to start singing, I go to the bathroom, shower, and begin my wait.

I’m restless and sleepy at the same time. I can’t sit still. My thoughts are running rampant at a hundred miles per hour. Nor can I sleep. I can’t risk missing Stonehart.

A few hours go by. I spend then pacing the entrance hall. Every sound makes me whip back to the door. None of them predicates Stonehart’s arrival.

I need to relax. I know I’ll get a warning when I hear the limo pull up on the gravel outside. But the caffeine has me wired and anxious.

I decide to make another coffee. I’m too far gone to rest. Maybe pumping more stimulants in my system will get rid of the fatigue lurking at the corners of my eyes.

I drink one cup. Then another. Then one more. I’m all jittery now, but better that than half-asleep.

The hours drag by. Have I miscounted the days? Maybe he’s arriving tomorrow.

But, no. I kept track of each day on a piece of paper. Stonehart said he’d be gone for fifteen days. Today is his return.

Three p.m. comes and goes. Then four. Then five, and then six. Still, there’s no sign of Stonehart. I know that every hour that goes by brings me closer and closer to his imminent arrival.

I’m now trying my best not to yawn every five minutes. The caffeine’s long since worn off. The exhaustion of multiple nights of bad sleep is kicking in. I feel stretched out and weary. I know I need to be in top form when Stonehart returns.

Well, at least on the outside.

I glance at my reflection in the window. My makeup is still right as I applied it. And if the red dress that I’m wearing is a little rumpled, well, that’s what happens when you wear one for an entire day.

I debate going to my closet and putting on a fresher outfit. It seems like a good idea. At least, it’ll give me something to do to take my mind off this nerve wracking waiting.

I walk to my part of the house and change into my second-choice outfit. It’s already past seven, and dark outside.

What’s taking Stonehart so long?
I pout. Maybe he’s been delayed. Maybe originally, he’d planned to leave for fifteen days. Could something have happened to keep him there longer?

Wherever ‘there’ is. I have no clue where he went.

Would he let me know if that were the case? I doubt it. He has no way of communicating with me, except through Rose, and she’s been disappointingly absent the entire time.

It’s not like I’m going anywhere. I’d still be waiting for Stonehart like a faithful puppy no matter what happens.

I spot an open book near my bed. I cram my fist in my mouth to stifle a huge yawn. Reading might kill some time and take my mind off things.

I pick the book up and curl up in the armchair.

Have the cushions always been so comfortable?
I wonder as I settle down. I pull a thin blanket over my lap, prop the book up, and try to focus on the words.

My head jerks up and my eyes pop open.
Shit!
I’d drowsed off. For how long?

I try to get my bearings. But, the room is dark. I wave my arms around to trigger the sensors.

The overhead lamps all flood on at once. I blink through the sudden brightness.

What the hell?
They haven’t done that since—

My thoughts come to a dead end as my eyes fall on a lone figure standing in the room.

Stonehart.

He looks furious.

I open my mouth to speak, but his sharp words cut me off.

“Fifteen days, Lilly,” he spits. “You knew I would be gone for fifteen days. You knew to expect me today. You knew—” his jaw grits down and he emphasizes each word, “To. Always. Be. Prepared.”

“Jeremy—”

“
SHUT UP!
” he screams. His eyes burn like black orbs in his skull. I shy back.

He takes a deep breath to compose himself, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. I see an angry vein pulse in his neck.

When he continues to speak, his voice is soft, cold, and deadly.

“You know what is expected of you based on the clauses in our contract,” he says. “Failure to live up to expectation is a cause for
punishment
, Lilly. And today, you have failed magnificently.”