Uncovering You 5: Confessions (6 page)

I’m not afraid of heights, but I’ve never been a big fan of flying. My body tenses as the elevation changes. I relax only when we’re level high in the air.

The flight to Portland passes in the blink of an eye. I spend most my time staring out the little circular window. I don’t see anything but white clouds. Yet, something about what they represent—the promise of real, genuine freedom—appeals to the deepest part of me.

“The wind is in our favor,” one of the attendants tells me. “We’re going to arrive half an hour early.” She smiles, as if it’s the greatest news in the world.

We land. The touchdown is a little bumpy, but, on the whole, better than lift off. The doors open and I’m hit by a frigid blast of air.

Now, I’m thankful for the coat Rose stuffed in my hands before I left.

I drape it over my shoulders and descend the steps. My bags are already being loaded into a black limousine that’s waiting for me. This one is shorter than the last. I never gave such things much thought before. But, I guess limos come in different sizes.

The driver is a plain-faced man with gray streaks in his hair. He holds the door open for me. I thank him with a little nod, and, happy to get out of the cold, duck inside.

Surprise overcomes me when I find Stonehart lounging on the other side of the cabin, his cell phone pressed to one ear.

He’s leaning back with one arm draped over the back of the seat. He is the picture of masculine ease.

Our eyes meet. He smiles at me briefly, and then looks away as he continues his conversation. The door slams closed behind me, making me jump. Stonehart notices, and a spark of amusement flickers across his eyes.

I settle directly across from him, wishing there was a little more room in the tight cabin.
I thought he had meetings to attend today
, I think.
Yet, he made time to meet me.

The car starts to move. I feign interest in the passing scenery outside, but in truth, nothing could be more interesting than listening in on Stonehart’s conversation. He’s talking business, something about shorting stocks. While I have no idea of the context, anything he says that has to do with Stonehart Industries is fascinating to me.

Any tidbit I overhear now might prove vital in the future.

Escape
, I think in the back of my mind.
I made it out of the mansion. The next step is to get away from him.

The phone call ends unfortunately early. Stonehart hangs up only minutes after we leave the airport.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “Your flight came early. That was rude of me.”

I give a little laugh. I’m not sure if it comes from a genuine place or if I do it just to play the role I think Stonehart expects of me. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

But my spirits are higher than they have been in weeks. That’s no act. And it’s pretty obvious as to why.

“You had a good flight?” Stonehart asks. “Did Charlene give you any trouble?”

“Charlene?” I wrinkle my nose. “Who’s Charlene?”

“My pilot,” Stonehart says, looking momentarily confused. “She didn’t introduce herself?”

I shake my head. “No.” I look at him. “You have a
female
pilot?”

He answers me with a rich laugh. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I guess not,” I say. “Just… somewhat against the usual stereotype.”

“True,” Stonehart concedes.

“Thank you for letting me sleep in, by the way,” I say. “I told Rose it was very considerate of you.”

He perks an eyebrow. “And what did Rose have to say to that?”

“She said you can be a considerate man.” I pause, debating whether or not to add the other part. I decide to do it. “For the right people.”

“And you, my dear, definitely belong to that select group,” he says, with no hint or mockery or sarcasm in his voice.

I can’t help the smile that grows on my lips.

“But I must apologize,” Stonehart continues. “We’re almost at our hotel, and I do have meetings to attend. I wanted to greet you. Beyond that, I’m afraid we won’t be able to spend much time together today. Before we part, however, I wanted to go over my rules for this trip.”

My heart sinks. I knew this was coming, but I was hoping he would delay it for a tiny bit longer. It jars me from the illusion of freedom I’d built up around this trip and right back into harsh reality.

“But first,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket, “a gift. For you. It is Christmas, after all.”

He brings out a small black box and holds it in front of him. It’s the sort that would house an expensive ring or bracelet.

Oh God
. I swallow. I hope this isn’t a return of the TGBs.

“Open it, Lilly,” he says.

I take it from his outstretched hand. The box has surprising weight. It’s solidly built.

I feel Stonehart’s eyes focus on me. Something shifts in the air, and there’s a sudden solemnity between us. I try not to show my growing nerves. After a moment’s hesitation, I lift the top.

Inside is a beautiful, jeweled brooch in the shape of a butterfly. The wings are made of red rubies and green emeralds. The body is a shiny silver or platinum.

“Christmas colors,” Stonehart says. “I thought they would suit you for the holidays.”

I hold my breath. He hasn’t mentioned this being a TGB yet. Maybe there isn’t any hidden meaning behind the gift.

“Here,” Stonehart says. “Let me put it on.”

I turn the box to him and let him take the butterfly out. He leans forward. His hands move sure and swift as he unbuttons my jacket to expose the blouse I have on underneath. My breath hitches as he spreads the lapels wide and focuses on my chest. Slowly, he pins the brooch in place.

An intense sexual energy cackles between our bodies. I have the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

Before I can make good on that foolish desire, Stonehart leans back, breaking me from the trance. He smiles.

“It looks good on you, Lilly-flower,” he says softly.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” I answer, my words coming out a touch breathless.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He lifts a finger. “Now, rule number one. You are to keep the brooch on at all times during our trip.”

Alarm ripples down my back. I knew there was a trap here somewhere. He wouldn’t make such a rule if it didn’t hold meaning.

“Why?” I ask, even though I do not want to know the answer.

“Because,” Stonehart smiles, “located inside is a small positioning chip. It transmits a signal to your collar,” He takes out his phone, swipes at the screen, and then leans back in apparent satisfaction. “Which is active as of this moment. So long as the brooch remains within three feet of you, you’re free to go wherever you please. But the moment you step out of range…?” he trails off. “I don’t think I need to finish for you to understand.”

Anger and frustration build inside me. I take a series of deep, steadying breaths to quell those feelings.

Really Lilly,
I tell myself.
This isn’t so bad. Did you really expect Stonehart to just let you roam around Portland with no restrictions?

I force a smile that I hope he takes as genuine. I am his prisoner once more. Then again—that never really changed.

“Okay,” I say. “The brooch stays on. What else?”

Stonehart’s eyebrows come up. “That’s it? No protest? No indignation?”

I shrug as casually as I can. “Nope.”

He gives a little smirk. “Good. I’m glad we’ve progressed past that. Though, I fear you might be a little more opposed to the bit of information that comes next.”

I look right at him with my back straight. “Shoot.”

“The reason you need to keep the brooch on, sweet Lilly, is because there is a microphone embedded inside. It’s been recording everything that’s been said since the moment you opened the box. Every word you say on this trip… everything you hear…” he taps his earpiece, “I do, too.” He pauses to gauge my reaction and then continues.

“It’s just a precaution, you see. I am granting you unparalleled freedom, and I simply do not want you tempted into making some very, very dangerous decisions.” His eyes bore into me as his voice becomes dark. “Do you understand the things I am talking about, Lilly?”

I shift a little under that stare. I understand all too well. He wouldn’t want me going to the cops or calling for help.

“Remember that, ultimately, I control your collar,” he says. “If the wrong words come from those pretty red lips of yours, all it takes is one press of a button…” He holds up his phone to show me. “…and you’re writhing on the floor.”

Bile builds in my throat at the casual way he can speak of electrocuting me.

His voice softens a fraction. “But I don’t want you worried about that during this trip. I want you to enjoy yourself. Just use your common sense, Lilly, and we’ll avoid any accidents.

“Now, obviously, I don’t have the time nor the inclination to listen in on your every word today, or tomorrow, or any other day this trip. That’s why the task has been relegated to Rose.” His eyes move up to meet mine. “I assure you,” he says softly, “you do not want to test her loyalty to me. If you do…” He pauses. “The result will be very unpleasant. For both of you.”

I clear my throat and look out the window. Rose will be the one spying on me? Well, things could certainly be worse.

Although, I guess that in a way, that limits what I can do, knowing Rose will bear the brunt of the blame if anything goes wrong is a stronger deterrent than the collar itself.

I turn back to him. “I understand, Jeremy. Thank you for informing me of your—” I stall. “—Precautions.”

“Of course,” he says. “You must know the parameters governing your behavior for this trip if you are expected to remain within them.” He reaches out to take my hand. I stop myself from recoiling just as his fingers brush over mine. “Don’t do anything that would displease me, and this trip can be quite prosperous for both of us.”

With that, he opens the door, and steps out onto the busy downtown street in front of a spiraling steel and glass tower.

“You’ll be brought to the hotel, where you will remain until evening. If you prefer, I’ve given permission to the driver to chauffer you around the city. You’re not to leave the car, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do some sightseeing from the back.”

The thrill of being in a new city is somewhat diminished by the fact that I can experience it only from the back of a vehicle.

Still, I have little reason to complain. Stonehart went over the rules without being overtly unpleasant. Even if I don’t like them very much, I understand the need to establish boundaries beforehand. Initial parameters are essential to ensure compliance of both parties in the agreement.

Jesus
. I stop short. I’m starting to sound like Stonehart!

Focus, Lilly. Think!
I tell myself.
You’re out of the mansion. Look for an escape!

But is escape even possible now? The collar is still around my neck. The brooch has a GPS chip so that Stonehart can track me wherever I go. I look at the door handle. Undoubtedly, it’s locked. I can’t just plunge out of the car into city traffic.

And even if I could… what would I do then? The collar would send me thrashing to the ground in moments. It would cause a scene in public. For any onlooker it would look like I’m having a seizure. I’d pass out. Somebody would probably call the paramedics. Then I’d wake up in a hospital wing somewhere, safe and far away…

No. Not safe. Not far away. Stonehart would find me. He would be furious. I’ve seen the extent of his anger.

I sigh and settle back. I cannot run yet. I need to bide my time and wait for the perfect opportunity. I cannot do it blind.

Besides, I want more than to simply escape. I want to get back at Stonehart for everything he’s done to me. I
need
to get back at Stonehart for everything he’s done to me. To have the opportunity, I need to stay close to him.

I spend the next hour or so directing the driver through the streets. Portland is quite small for a major city. It has a certain antiquity that I imagine would be quite charming… if I could experience it from outside the car.

In time, I get bored of sitting in the back. I want to stretch my legs. I ask the driver to bring me to the hotel.

It takes ten minutes to get there. My mind wanders to the conversation Stonehart and I had last night. It was the most honest I’ve ever seen him.

Or maybe not. It’s difficult to tell when the man is being honest. He
sounded
sincere, sure, but maybe the entire thing was another attempt at manipulation.

We arrive at the hotel. It’s an upscale place—obviously. In the garage, the driver takes my bags and leads me to a private elevator sheltered behind a locked gate.

He enters with me without a word. He hits the topmost button on the panel after inserting a small key. The elevator shoots up.

The doors open to a magnificent penthouse suite. The driver places my bags over the threshold and tips his cap. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Ryder,” he says, and then vanishes behind the closing doors.