Uncovering You 4: Retribution (8 page)

He is gone for two days. I grit my teeth.
Dammit
! I should have done everything I could to spend as much time with him as possible when he was here. Not tried to avoid him like a scared puppy.

Well, I can’t change the past. But I can definitely control how I act in the future. When Stonehart returns, he will not only find a Lilly who is ready to please, he will also find one who has finally understood that proximity to him is what she needs if she has any hope of extricating herself from this situation.

My natural inclination is to spend the next two days in the library, reading.

I don’t succumb to it. What good would reading do me now? Especially when I have the whole house to myself?

The door to Stonehart’s office is closed, but not locked. I know. One of the first things I did after Rose left was go there and push the handle down.

I turned it just enough to feel the latch give. Then I let go and stepped back. If there is any useful information for me anywhere in this house, it will be in that room.

But I need Stonehart to trust me. He told me not to go inside. I remember how he punished me the time I
thought
I had broken the rule. Now, going in, when I have no doubt that I
would
be breaking it, would destroy any sort of relationship I hope to build with my captor.

My captor.

Hah. I haven’t thought of Stonehart that way for a long time. Maybe I just avoided the title because I was afraid of the implication. I would be acknowledging the desperate reality of my situation.

But I’m not delusional. I have to be realistic about these sorts of things. Stonehart is my captor. No two ways around it. He is not my lover. He is not my friend. He is not my employer.

He is my
captor
.

If nothing else, seeing him with his secretary solidified that in my mind.

I haven’t given that night much thought. Is it an avoidance mechanism at work? Or is it just me knowing that dwelling on the negatives would weaken my position?

Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I’m not too proud to admit that, when I saw Stonehart fucking her, the feeling of betrayal nearly tore my soul in two. I had foolishly thought that he and I had something growing between us before that point.

I’m one hundred percent certain that that had been the first real manifestation of Stockholm syndrome. But after a day in which he offered me Esteban’s position, took me on a tour the grounds, made me laugh, smile—and orgasm—it was hard to feel bitter toward the man.

He capped it off by giving me access to the library. It was such a glorious gift that I could hardly believe it was real. Then, he left me alone for two days, not once interfering with my reading, giving me all the time and space I needed to start feeling comfortable…

Jesus Christ
. Listening to myself think, one could rightfully deduce that I’ve become infatuated with the man.

And maybe I’d started down that path… until I saw how little I meant to him when I peeked through the office window.

What if I hadn’t wandered out of bed that night? What if I had stayed in my room. What if I had never saw him and… her? Would I be eagerly anticipating his return as a chance to experience all those wonderful things he made me feel before he left?

Thank God I got up. Even the humiliation of being dragged after him on my hands and knees, naked, blindfolded, and gagged, had been worth it. It made me remember who I am to him.

And who he is to me.

Stonehart probably thought that making me hide in the room while he had sex would make me jealous or fill me with disgust. It did neither. In fact, it was probably the very reminder I needed of the reality of my situation. It made me understand what I should never have lost sight of: No matter what, I am very much a prisoner.

So, I spend the first free hours I have to my advantage, combing through every inch of the house to try to discover something about its owner. The search comes up empty, of course—just as I expected. But at least now I know with full certainty that there is nothing here for me to find.

Everything important is in his office.

***

The first night that I’m alone, I pick up the army tag and examine it more closely. Stonehart wants me to put it on my collar, presumably as a constant reminder of who my master is. The three scratched letters on the underside do not affect me as much as I thought they would. Perhaps I’m becoming immune to him.

I smile. Stonehart wouldn’t like to know that.

The next morning, I spend an hour in front of the mirror trying to figure out a way to attach it to my collar. That’s what Stonehart asked me to do. I want to have it on before his arrival.

Unfortunately, there is no way to do it, short of gluing it on. And I don’t have any adhesive.

That’s too bad. I wanted to use the army tag as a symbol of defiance. I would wear it proudly without letting it affect me, because it meant that Stonehart’s influence on my psyche was less than he wants.

In the end, I resort to hooking it through a thin silver necklace that I find in my closet, and put it out of mind.

Afterward, I carefully apply the makeup over my cheek to conceal evidence of Stonehart’s slap. My eye is still a little swollen. I can’t do anything about it. I just hope the bruising will fade by Stonehart’s return.

I spend the next day outside. It’s wonderful to be free of the shackles of his home. Stonehart’s property is so huge that I can forget where I am and just lose myself amongst the tall evergreens for hours.

I prefer them to the cliffs. The view of the ocean is something I see every day from the sunroom. The trees are a new and novel environment.

I return to the house when it’s dark and have dinner. Somehow, I still haven’t bumped into Charles once. It’s a little unnerving to know that there is another person here with me—someone I’ve never seen.

That night, when I go to sleep, anticipation thrums through my body like a strummed string. Tomorrow marks Stonehart’s return. Tomorrow is when I begin my real mission of ingratiating myself to him.

I wake up the next morning with a gasp and jolt upright. The sun is shining brightly through the windows. I overslept!

I hurl myself out of bed and run to the bathroom, cursing my lack of alarm clock. What if Stonehart is already here? What if I slept through his arrival?

I brush my teeth hastily, throw cold water over my face to wake myself up, and am out of there in five minutes flat. I debate taking an extra few moments to get dressed, but think better of it. Stonehart told me last time he’ll treat me like a dog. If he’s going to make me go naked, there’s little point in putting on pretty clothes.

As I hurry down the hall to the main foyer, it strikes me how I can think those thoughts with such complete indifference.

It’s either a mark of immense strength, or wavering sanity.

My heart drops when I hear Stonehart’s voice from the kitchen. He’s talking to Rose.

How long has he been here? I hope not long.

I take a deep breath, forcibly slow my steps, and walk regally into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Jeremy,” I pronounce, giving him my most fawning smile.

Stonehart’s eyes flicker to me. Rose, whose back is turned, looks over her shoulder. Her face is unreadable.

I stand there and keep my lips forced up in that horrendous smile, waiting for a reply.

With absolutely no further acknowledgment, Stonehart looks back at Rose and continues his conversation.

I stand there for a minute, confused. He’s
here
. Isn’t he going to say anything to me?

After an awkward minute spent on my feet, I go to the table and sit down. I pretend to be as disinterested in him as he is in me. It’s not hard—all he’s discussing is the logistics of his upcoming trip. Nothing juicy, either, just things about how he wants the house kept while he is gone.

I pretend to be fascinated by a small, shiny spot on the table. Stonehart’s voice is calm, soothing, and deep. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I missed it.

Eventually, Rose bustles away. I look up, expectantly…

And am utterly let down when, after draining his coffee, Stonehart leaves the room, too.

He didn’t even spare one look at me! He didn’t acknowledge that I’m even here aside from that brief initial glance.

Did I do something wrong? Surely, he did not expect me to greet him on hands and knees?

No, I don’t think that’s it. When I do something wrong, Stonehart is always sure to inform me.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stand up and follow him out. I see his shape disappear around a corner. “Jeremy?” I call out.

Nothing.

I shake my head, hardly believing that I’m
trying
to seek an audience with him, but being ignored like this rubs me the wrong way. It also makes me cautious: why is he doing it?

I start down the hallway after him. Two-thirds of the way there, I hear his voice boom out again. It sounds like he’s on the phone.

I hover at the entrance to one of the many enormous rooms in the house, waiting. Stonehart is inside, pacing back and forth with his cell pressed to one ear.

He does not look at me.

I step in and perch on a seat, back straight. It occurs to me after a moment that this is exactly the same spot where I first met Esteban.

Funny, that.

Stonehart continues to ignore me while carrying on his conversation. For all the attention he gives me, I might as well be a mannequin.

He stands up. I open my mouth to speak—and clamp it shut again as he strides briskly out of the room. He did not even
look
at me. Infuriating man!

I do not follow him right away. Maybe this is a test. Why? Of what?

I can’t tell.

Maybe he wants to see how far I’ll go to get his attention.
Not far
, I think with a sneer. A Stonehart who ignores me is infinitely preferable to a Stonehart who makes me the focus of his day.

Or is that not true? I remember one of his first warnings about what would happen to me if I misbehaved:

I will leave you in the dark
.

I shudder. That is one punishment I never want to experience.

I stand up. I’m a little peeved at the reaction I’ve received. I’ve been building up his return in my mind for two days. Being brushed off like this is the definition of anti-climactic.

I walk out of the room, into the long, empty hallway. The house is silent. An uncanny trickle of disquietude runs down my spine. You could hide a body in here and nobody would ever know.

Or hide me
, I think, without the least bit of humor.

I start up the stairs toward Stonehart’s room. Maybe he’s unpacking? But he doesn’t strike me like the sort of man to waste time with such trifles. Rose surely does that for him.

Halfway up the stairs, a shadow of movement catches my eye from outside. I glance back, and see a familiar black limousine pulling up to the house.

I’ve ridden inside that limousine before
, I think with a grunt, then resume my search for Stonehart.

He’s not in his room. The bed is freshly made and the place is spotless, as usual. I do a small tour of the place, even going so far as to check the surveillance closet, but it’s empty.

There’s only one place he can be, then. Well, in truth, with a house this side, there are
many
places he can be, but only one strikes me as likely right now:

His office.

Sure enough, when I wander into the hallway leading to the secret door, I find the entrance wide open. I walk inside. The door to Stonehart’s office is closed, but I can hear his muffled voice from within.

Having nothing else to do, I cross my arms and lean against the library doorway, waiting.

I stand there for a long time. My left foot starts to fall asleep. I shake it out to regain circulation, sigh, and wait some more.

Stonehart keeps talking inside the office. I can’t make out his words through the thick oak doors, but his voice is unmistakable.

I love that voice. If only it didn’t belong to such a monster—

I stop cold.

Did I really just use the world ‘
love
’ to describe something about Stonehart?

Another shiver runs through me. I need to be more careful with my thoughts.

After a useless half-hour, boredom starts to kick in. Stonehart can’t just expect me to wait out here forever for him. I give an impatient chuckle. Odds are, he doesn’t even know I am here.

It’s grating to be ignored this way. But, I know a reaction is just what Stonehart is after. Probably. It could be that he’s just busy…

But, no. He made specific mention of having our last encounter before his long trip be ‘memorable.’ He’s going to be gone for fifteen days. It’ll be the longest time we’ve ever spent apart.

Well, it’s not like he’ll have any trouble satisfying his libido
, I think bitterly, remembering the screaming secretary.
How many women has he been screwing behind my back? Were it not for my restlessness that night, I would have been none the wiser…

Again, I trail off, shaking my head. That is
not
jealousy creeping in. It can’t be.

I scoff. What do I have to be jealous of? Stonehart can do whatever he damn well pleases with his dick.

I shift on my feet, growing more and more annoyed at the situation. It’s not just the indifference Stonehart showed me today that is galling. If it were only that, I’d have no problem at all.

It’s the path my thoughts keep turning to that has me uncomfortable.

I decide to distract myself with a book. I might as well—the library is right here. Stonehart has made no indication of looking for me so far. I don’t think it’ll be a problem if he finds me there.

But try as I might, I just can’t focus on the words on the page. Anticipation quivers in me like a coiled spring.
Why
hasn’t Stonehart greeted me?
Why
haven’t I heard a single thing from him?

A sudden realization hits, and it makes me jerk straight. What if the reason Stonehart is ignoring me is that his big trip is
off
? What if he doesn’t have any urgency to see me because
he’s not going anywhere?