Uncovering You 5: Confessions (15 page)

Aside from that small irritation, though, the days were generally agreeable. I showed no bitterness toward Stonehart, and he seemed to appreciate that. He would never say it out loud, but I began to suspect that, for all his posturing, he was as glad as I to inject a semblance of normalcy into our time together.

The surprise came some days later.

It was just after lunch when I first spotted the tiny islands dotting the horizon. They looked like pebbles from far away, As we approached, I began to make out their lush, green splendor. They were uninhabited. White sand covered the coasts and beaches, framed by enormous palms.

I ran to Stonehart the moment I saw them. He wouldn’t say a word, but I knew from the twinkle in his eye that my reaction was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

As he expertly navigated the yacht through the waters, the hot sun shining brightly down on us, a palpable excitement started to form in the pit of my stomach. Growing up on the East Coast, where it was always cold save for the few precious months of summer, I had dreams of a tropical paradise. It was something my mother and I shared. Before our relationship collapsed, we would spend whole nights talking about scraping enough money together to buy a pair of tickets to the Caribbean, or the Cayman Islands, or somewhere warm where we could leave behind all the troubles of our day-to-day lives, just for a week or two.

It was never more than a pipe dream.

A wave of sadness washes over me with that thought. One of our biggest disagreements came when I was fifteen, a few years after she began drinking. That was about the time I started getting serious about my aspirations to build a better life for myself. Money, of course, was always a hot-button topic in our small, two-person family. The year before, I’d been working part time anywhere that would accept me, doing my best to help with rent. But that summer, before school began, I knew I had to make a choice. I could either keep working, and risk becoming my mother… or, I could start focusing solely on school, forget the odd jobs, and do everything I could to make a proper, educated woman out of myself.

We were barely scraping by as it was. So, when I announced my intentions to my mother, she became hysterical. I tried to ease her into it. But, there was no sugar-coating the truth. School had to come first. I could not keep working.

The blow came when, in a moment of severe indiscretion, I declared that maybe we’d have enough money for rent if she just had the self-control to lay off the booze.

I cringe at the memory of her reaction. If I thought she was hysterical before… well, it couldn’t hold a candle to her reaction then. She went berserk. She told me to get out, that I was ungrateful, that I was a leech, a mooch, that I was no better than my deadbeat, good-for-nothing father.

It was the first time she’d ever made reference to him.

Obviously, even the strongest, most self-reliant fifteen-year-old would be crushed by such accusations—especially when they came from someone so close. I left the house in tears and spent the night with a friend. The next morning, when I slipped in quietly to pack my things, I found my mother waiting for me on my bed.

Her eyes were red. She looked like she’d been crying, too. She apologized the moment she saw me, told me that she didn’t mean what she’d said, and begged me to forgive her. I did… But things were never the same again between us after the fight.

That’s why the sudden appearance of the islands has such a strong effect on me. Coming to a place like this was a dream my mother and I shared, even if we both knew it was impossible. And now… being here, on this yacht, with Stonehart… it just… it just… gets to me.

“Lilly. Lilly, are you all right? Lilly!”

I shake my head and snap to attention. Somehow, I’ve ended up on the floor. Stonehart is kneeling beside me, his hands on my arms. Why am I on the floor?

“You wavered and fell,” Stonehart says, as if reading my thoughts. Concern is plain on his face. “Must be the damned sun. You’re overheated and dehydrated.”

“No…” I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Stonehart poses.

“I… don’t know. I’m okay, though.” I start to stand. Stonehart helps me. He doesn’t let go even when I’m upright.

“You’re not sick? How are you feeling? Here, let’s get you in some shade…”

I let Stonehart lead me to a nearby beach chair shielded by an umbrella. He sets me down carefully, as if I’m a fragile, porcelain doll.

“Would you like some water?”

I give a small nod.

“Stay right here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I watch him hurry out of sight. He returns a moment later carrying a tall glass full of ice. He pours water from the nearby pitcher into it and hands it to me.

I cradle it with both hands. “Drink,” Stonehart says. There’s undeniable command in his voice. I place my lips around the long metal straw and take a delicate sip.

He watches me intently. It strikes me at that moment, that right now, Stonehart is taking care of me. Stonehart. Taking
care
of me.

It’s almost too much to believe.

“You need to be more careful,” he scolds. But his words are soft. As he runs his hand over my smooth thigh, I feel a tingle of pleasure from his touch. “I would hate for anything to happen to you from an oversight on my part. From now on, we’re going to limit your sun exposure.”

“What, here?” I say, casting a look around at the pristine, sparkling waters surrounding us. “Good luck.”

He chuckles. “In that case, we’ll make sure you have enough fluids in you. I need you strong and healthy, my dear Lilly-flower. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you wilt.”

I smile. That was sweet. “You know, despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not nearly so delicate as you might think.”

“I know you’re not,” he says. “But I also know you’re damned stubborn. You demonstrated that when you held out against the contract for as long as you did.”

Involuntarily, I shy back. That was in the
past
, and though I’m never likely to forget it, hearing him refer to it is discomforting.

Stonehart catches my withdrawal. He curses under his breath. “Dammit woman, I’m not going to apologize for what I did to get you here. But haven’t the last few days proven that things are different?”

Maybe in your mind
, I think. The only answer I give him is a little nod.

He gets up. “Would you like to know our destination?”

“You mean, you’re finally ready to tell me?”

“Not tell you,” Stonehart says. He extends his hand to me. “Show you. Come here.”

I take his hand and he pulls me up. As we walk toward the front of the yacht, he runs his thumb over my knuckles in a strangely endearing, yet oh-so-innocent fashion.

In the distance, but so much closer now than I remember stands a beautiful, uninhabited island. At least, that’s what I think at first. It takes me an extra second to pick out the little hut that’s cradled in a nook of the shore.

Then I realize how far away we still are, and it dawns on me that the hut is not so little. Stonehart has turned the engine off. But, we’re still floating onward, propelled by both our momentum and the tide.

“That,” Stonehart says, his eyes shining, “is our destination.”

“It’s yours?” I ask. I know it’s a stupid question, but it gives me something to say.

Stonehart gestures around us. “I own all of these islands,” he says. Then, he hedges the proclamation a bit. “Rather, Stonehart Industries does. They were purchased by my real estate team at the dip of the 2008 recession. They made plans to build resorts on these shores and transform them into a magnificent tourist destination. Unfortunately, trouble with the locals got in the way.”

“What happened?”

“The usual. They protested against us ruining nature’s gift with commercialization. It was expected. I was ready to ignore them, until one day I had my pilot fly me over the land. I hadn’t seen it before. I was immediately struck by its beauty. The protests made sense. I decided, instead, to keep all of these islands as a preservation. But for more selfish reasons than they ever knew.

“You see.” He turns to me. “The moment I lay eyes on these islands, I knew that they were something special. They were purchased as a business investment, but during that flight I became enamored with them. And I had this image… this vision… of finding one woman to share them with.”

He steps close to me. My heart starts pounding hard. “That woman, Lilly,” he says, tilting my chin up, “is you.”

And he sweeps down to kiss me. It’s a kiss full of passion. Full of life. I cling onto his shoulders, drawing him close, intoxicated by the beauty of the moment and the sweetness of his words. Even if they are a lie. Even if they do come from a sinister place.

They still affect me.

Kind of how
he
affects me.

The yacht lays anchor and we take a small raft to shore.

There’s a small group of waving natives on the beach. Where they came from, I have no idea.

As we get closer, I see that it’s one big family. There’s a father, a mother, and four small kids: three boys and one girl.

“Who are they?” I ask Stonehart.

“Our housekeepers,” he answers.

The kids race to the dock when we’re close. They’re laughing and yelling and genuinely excited about our arrival.

Stonehart picks the girl up and spins her around, then kneels down and speaks to her brothers.

“
Encantado de conicerte
”

My eyebrows go up. "¿Hablas español?”

“Enough to say hello,” Stonehart winks. By now, the parents have reached us as well. The mother envelopes Stonehart in a hug and pulls him down to kiss his cheeks. The father shakes Stonehart’s hand with both of his, bowing his head again and again and again and saying things I don’t understand but that sound very flattering.

I stand back and watch, fascinated by the interaction. This feels more like a great family reunion than a land owner arriving at his estate.

While that’s going on, the children shift their attention to me. Two of the boys are shy, hiding behind their mother’s legs, while the little girl continues to be enamored by Stonehart. The third boy, however, who looks to be the oldest—though he can’t be more than six or seven—comes up to me and tugs my hand.

I look down, startled to feel the little palm wrapped around my forefinger. He has something hidden behind his back.

I kneel down and smile. “Hello,” I say. “What’s your name?”

He giggles, looks at me, then back down at the sand, and then he sticks out his other hand.

In it is a beautiful, perfect shell. “For me?” I ask. He presses it into my palm. When I’m holding it, he blushes brightly and spins back to run to his brothers.

They start laughing as soon as he joins them, their voices loud and excited.

“Lilly.” Stonehart is beside me again. I look up and find that he’s brought both mother and father with him.

“This is Manuela,” he says. Then he switches dialects. “Manuela, conocer Lilly.”

The woman—who barely reaches up to my chin—clasps my hand and shakes it tight. Then, without warning, she yanks me down and kisses both my cheeks. All the while, she’s beaming and repeating the word, “Biutiful! Biutiful!” over and over again.

“And her husband Jose.” Stonehart gestures to the man, who also smiles widely and shakes my hand more formally.

Introductions completed, we’re distracted by the kids running back to join us. Two of them grab Stonehart’s hand, and mine. They pull us toward the house in a flurry of excitement. Meanwhile, their father picks our bags up from the boat and carries them after us.

Manuela starts jabbering right away. I can’t even distinguish the individual words she’s saying, but Stonehart seems to have no trouble following along. He translates bits for me.

“Manuela says you’re very beautiful. A pearl from the deepest waters. More stunning than any woman she’s ever envisioned for me.” He smirks. “I don’t know why her expectations would be any lower.”

We make our way toward the villa. I follow Stonehart in a kind of stunned daze. These people—this family—all worship him.

I see the way he interacts with the kids. The boys and little girl run circles around him. Not only does he not mind, but I think he actually
enjoys
the attention.

I’ve never seen anything like it. Never
expected
to see anything like it. Not out of Stonehart.

But here on the island, he is a different man. Maybe the tropics are having their effect on him. Maybe it’s the safety afforded by a place so remote. He doesn’t have to be on guard. He has no image, no persona, to maintain.

As I reflect, I realize that, despite everything he’s shown and done, it must be hard to
be
Stonehart. He’s responsible for the day-to-day operations of one of the world’s most prosperous and secretive companies. He built it from the ground up. He can’t afford to show weakness, not in his professional life, nor in his personal life.