I am presented with a vile contract and asked to sign. It outlines the terms of my servitude. The only information I have about my captor are the two small letters inked at the bottom:

J.S.

Armed with only my memories, I must do everything I can to avoid becoming ensnared in his twisted mind games. But in the end, it all comes down to one choice:

Resist and die.

Or submit, and sign my life away.

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Uncovering You 9:

Liberation

by Scarlett Edwards

2015

EDWARDS PUBLISHING

Reader Warning:

Uncovering You
contains scenes of intense emotional and physical abuse. Readers with sensitivity to such subjects are advised to proceed with caution.

Book Description:

Take a gun. Point it at your head. Pull the trigger.

Boom.

Is it loaded? You never know.

Putting my life in Jeremy Stonehart's hands is like that. We're playing a game of Russian roulette. He tests my feelings, pushes me to my limits, and then brings me back.

I can leave, but I do not.

I am waiting for the gun to go off, waiting to know if there is a bullet inside, waiting to find out whether I have Jeremy... Or Stonehart.

And so, only in the moment of truth will I discover whether I've achieved liberation—or oblivion.

Chapter One

Equilibrium. Peace. Happiness.

That is what I have with Jeremy Stonehart, lodge
d away at the top of some remote mountain.

There are no interruptions on our time together. No outside demands. It’s just him and me, and nothing else.

There are no intrusions from the outside world. No pressures. No expectations. No questions, no uncertainties.

Just a man and a woman, truly in love, spending time with each other and requiring nothing more.

Of course, I know it cannot last. This is our second getaway into a paradise like this. Into a little corner of the world where nothing exists, where time itself seems to slow and lose meaning.

Jeremy takes me skiing. I’ve never been. He teaches me. It frightens me at first. The slopes are so intimidating. The ease with which he maneuvers past obstacles and trees is unbelievable. But, just like the time he taught me to dance, Jeremy is a consummate teacher. I pick it up fast. In no time, I can hold my balance and follow him down some of the less graded, snow-covered hills.

Our nights are spent making love by the roaring flames of a grand fireplace. Our thirst for each other is insatiable. It is heightened even more by the outdoor activities of each passing day.

In short, my life feels miraculous. There have been no relapses—either for him, or for me. He has stayed Jeremy the whole time, not once drifting back into Stonehart. And I have suffered no panic attacks, no fainting episodes symptomatic of my condition.

But, in time, all good things must come to an end. Jeremy took time off to spend with me. However, even he does not have the luxury of staying away from the demands of Stonehart Industries—even if he is the largest shareholder.

He told me more about the IPO. It was a smashing success. He’d crushed all those within the company who had tried to wrestle control from his hands. The opening stock price was nearly two times higher than even the most optimistic predictions. The surrounding rumors had been quashed. There was nothing overtly shady about any of Stonehart Industries’ dealings.

At least, nothing that the regulators could find. The way Jeremy’s eyes gleamed when he told me that made me certain he’d managed a miraculous caper.

The IPO made Jeremy’s wealth—on paper, at least—almost double. Should he ever sell his shares, he would have enough money to make millionaires of a single city’s populace.

Not that he would ever give it away.

But I do find out some things about Jeremy that I never suspected before. Stonehart Industry’s support of the Make-A-Wish Foundation is not just an empty tax-deduction opportunity. It actually holds meaning to Jeremy. He told me how once, in the aftermath of his disastrous break up with the woman who played with his love, he bought the whole inventory of a gigantic downtown toy store, got a bus for all the kids in the largest metropolitan hospital, and brought them there to take anything and everything they wanted clear off the shelves. It was the week before Christmas.

I was surprised, but more interested in details about the mysterious woman. Who was she? What exactly did she do?

Jeremy would not elaborate.

That type of information gives a sense of humanity to the man. He is not just the cold, calculating CEO of Stonehart Industries. He is not just the monster who imprisoned me. He is a living, breathing person, with dreams, aspirations, failures, flaws…

In fact, Jeremy Stonehart is a lot like anybody else. When I first came into his presence, I thought he was among the worst of humanity.

I do not anymore. Clearly, he is not perfect. But, how many people can claim to be? And while his abuse of me at first appeared to be without reason, I can now understand—or at least,
see
—things from his perspective.

That does not make the things he did acceptable. It does not lessen their severity, or cruelty. But I think that understanding was the key that allowed me to admit that I have feelings for him.

Strong feelings. Immense feelings.

He did not abuse me simply because he took pleasure in it. He did not subject me to the horrors of a thin, withering existence because he
could
.

He did it for reasons that were very clear in his mind. He had definitive goals in sight. There was logic behind the madness. Twisted, dark, unacceptable, and masochistic logic … But there it was.

That’s how I’ve been able to reconcile my warring emotions whenever I’m near Jeremy Stonehart. Maybe it’s me being weak, falling for my captor like this. Maybe it’s me being delusional.

But even if it is… who cares? What I have right now with Jeremy is so much better than anything I can imagine having with anyone else. Nobody can make me feel the passions that storm within me around Jeremy. Good, bad, and something in between, they are all part of the amazing experience with him.

There is no supplanting Jeremy. Nobody can ever come close. The path we took to get here is unrivaled.

Perhaps that is what binds me to him. Maybe it’s not even Jeremy himself—or at least, not Jeremy in full—but rather the journey we shared that makes me feel so inexplicably tied to him.

Whatever it is, I don’t allow myself to worry too much about it. All I concern myself with, high on this sleepy mountain, is the blooming feeling of warmth that is aroused by Jeremy’s presence. His smile, his laugh, his voice, his unwavering intensity, in everything and anything he does endear him to me.

And then there are the moments of unexpected sweetness, the jewels that give me a glimpse into his soul. The times I catch him staring at me, transfixed. When I ask him what it is, he just smiles and says, “Nothing”. Or in the post-coital bliss, when we’re both at peace and languid, and he just holds me close to him, our hearts beating as one. Those are the moments when he does not need to speak. There are no words to describe what we have with each other. Those are the times when language seems a cruel parody, utterly incapable of finding meaning or ascribing definition to the raw, powerful connection between our bodies.

It’s all metaphorical. And yes, there is a time and place for poetry and art. It’s precious and ephemeral. But lose yourself for long enough in its grasp and the corporeal ceases to hold meaning.

It’s where I am now.

It’s a slow, sensual seduction of the deepest, most primitive part of my mind. Therein lies the danger. Therein lies the threat. Because should I find myself too accustomed to it, too comfortable within its enclosure, reality has a nasty habit of rearing its ugly head at the least opportune moment.

That moment comes three days into our stay, on the crisp Saturday morning of March 29
th
.

Jeremy and I spent the night in each other’s arms. He kissed me awake, and then went downstairs while I elected to shower alone.

As I descend the wide steps to the first floor I get the distinct feeling that something is wrong.

“Lilly,” Jeremy greets me from around the hall. His hands are behind his back. The recent good humor that I’ve come to expect from him is gone. “Come with me.”

There’s an undertone to his voice that makes me wary. “What is it, Jeremy?” I ask.

“You’ll see.” A vague and discomfiting answer. “Come. Now.”

I nod, and trot after him.

He leads me to a dark, cavernous room. The blinds are drawn.

“Close the door,” he says once we enter.

“Jeremy…“

“Just close it, dammit!”

I jump to obey. My heart is pounding in a thick, heavy rhythm, like the drumbeats leading a marching army to war.

I turn to him. He’s settled into a massive armchair in front of the drawn drapes. The back of it extends halfway to the ceiling. It looks like an iron throne.

He’s watching me from his center of command. His presence, combined with the chair, combined with the darkness, makes me feel suddenly very small.

And more than a little bit afraid.

BOOK: Uncovering You 9: Liberation

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