Chapter 14

Stephanie glared straight into the camera. “Why can’t the stupid driver deliver the package after Daddy comes home?”

Alfred, impersonating Grainer’s AI, said, “Miss, the package is for you, and the delivery man insists on a signature.”

“But Daddy doesn’t like it when I talk to strangers. He’ll take me to the basement.”

Jason glanced up from the live video streaming on his phone. “The basement?”

Alfred replied, “Mr. Grainer reserves his more serious punishments for the basement.”

“What the hell goes on down there? Wait,” Jason waved any possible answer away. “I don’t want to know.”

“As you wish.”

“I don’t like that she’s still in her little girl role.”

“There may be more to the addiction than we know, or Miss Natalie may not fully understand how the bond works.”

There wasn’t anything good about either of Alfred’s comments. Just thinking about both made him angry. Once he had Stephanie safe, he’d take the time to sort it all out. Now, though, maybe he could use this ‘Daddy’ crap. The idea made him grin like a wolf. Jason glanced up to the portico surveillance camera—it was the closest thing to Alfred’s eyes. “Tell Stephanie...”

“Miss, Daddy wants you to get the package.”

During the lapse in their conversation, Stephanie had drifted away from the camera. When Alfred spoke again, she spun back. “He does? Why didn’t he tell me before he left?”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but Daddy doesn’t confide in me as he does with you.”

“That’s right!” Stephanie crowed. “You’re just a stupid AI, and I’m his little girl.” She turned and flounced towards the mansion’s front door.

As she approached the front door, Stephanie’s steps faltered. She glanced around. Somehow, she’d ended up in the foyer and didn’t know why. Her usual daytime place was the kitchen or laundry. She turned back. Maybe she’d remember the reason along the way.

Stephanie’d barely taken two steps before the household AI spoke. “Miss, did you forget the package?”

“What package?”

“A delivery person is at the door with a package, for you.”

“Really?” her cheeks tightened with a smile. “Is it from my mother?” She hadn’t heard from Mom in a while. How long? Years? Something was wrong with her memory.

“Once you accept the delivery, I’m sure you’ll find out.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Still, opening any exterior door was a big deal. It was, literally, one step away from a top ten no-no, leaving the house without Roger. It had taken years before she’d earned enough trust to have the run of the house.

“AI.” She asked. “Does Roger know I’m going to open the front door?”

“Miss, Daddy wants you to accept this package. I’m certain it will be fine.”

“Oh,” Stephanie shrugged. Roger and his daddy fixation. It wasn’t even the worst of his kinks, just the most consistent.

Before opening the door, she’d better check the security panel. A mirror hung on the wall next to the door. A couple of taps in the right spots changed it to a video display of the portico. A bearded man wearing chinos and a polo shirt waited. He carried a clipboard in one hand and a neoplas box in the other. Just before turning towards the door, something drew her attention back. What was it? Sure, he was tall and cute, with curly hair, broad shoulders, and a slim waist. Just watching him brought an unusual clarity to her thoughts. With it, the remnants of her little-girl facade skittered away.

How unusual. The few men Roger allowed on the property never caught her eye. Strangely though, this delivery man seemed familiar, which was impossible. Roger never allowed her to meet anyone.

An odd design emblazoned his uniform shirt. It resembled a winged man with a sword, slaying a dragon. It must be a new delivery company. He appeared harmless enough, so Stephanie opened the door.

The man smiled and took a step forward. Something made Stephanie take a long look. Other than a shameless gleam of interest in his brown eyes, there wasn’t anything that should hold her attention. So, why did his crafty little smile make her cheeks heat up? The last thing she needed to do was encourage some stranger.

“I have a package for,” he glanced at his clipboard, “Miss Stephanie Timms.”

Despite knowing she shouldn’t stare, her eyes lingered on his well-defined biceps. Not bulky like a bodybuilder, just nicely toned. Her interest triggered a slight wave of heat. What was up with her bond today? It usually stopped her long before noticing anyone other than Roger. Here it was, allowing, heck, encouraging her to ogle a random guy.

“Are you all right, miss?” His voice hit just the right notes, and a little buzz started, but just as fast a stomach cramp shut it down.

This guy was not only cute but attentive enough to catch her brief twinge of nausea. “Oh, I’m fine,” A deep breath helped, as did keeping her eyes to the side. “It’s probably just a touch of low blood sugar.”

“Chinese food is great for blood sugar,” he said. “Szechuan Chicken is my favorite.”

“Thanks.” Where had she heard about Szechuan cuisine before? Roger hated any kind of Asian food.

“If you’ll sign here, Miss.” He proffered the clipboard and a mechanical pencil.

“What? No pen?” The pencil felt kind of heavy, but it wrote well enough.

“It’s all I had with me.” She finished her signature with a tiny dot for each “i.”

“And here’s your package.”

The box was lighter than she expected. It rustled a bit when she checked the label. “Thank you,” she said as the man stepped back; it never hurt to be polite.

“Ah, miss?” The driver spoke before she closed the door. “I’ll be in the area for quite a while—in case you have any questions.”

She kept her eyes averted as the driver walked back to his truck. Stephanie had enough nausea for one day.

On the way back to the kitchen, Stephanie carefully considered the warmth so recently kindled. It was Roger’s fault. What passed as normal sex for him rarely resulted in any kind of pleasure for her. The few orgasms she managed to sneak while in his presence were barely enough to keep the pain away. House cleaning, exercise, and long hot showers only helped so much. When Roger got home, he’d better take care of her business. Until then, if she thought a random delivery man was cute, it was Roger’s own damned fault.

The kitchen comm display, in its default mirror mode, reflected her image as she passed. Had the cute delivery guy seen a matching glint of interest in her own eyes? Just thinking about the possibility sent another twinge of heat followed by a wave of nausea. Yuck, going about your day horny and queasy was the worst.

Stephanie sat the package on the counter. What had the delivery man said there at the end? Oh, yes, “I’ll be in the area if you have any questions.” Why would she have a question for him? Even if she did, how was she supposed to ask him? Strange, strange, strange.

The package beckoned. Roughly square and made of the ubiquitous tan neoplas. There wasn’t a return address, and Roger’s packages always had return addresses. Then again, he hadn’t sent her anything in a long while. She should call him. None of his rules covered this situation. Even though Roger flipped out if she bothered him at work, he’d probably be angrier if she opened the box without his permission. “AI,” she called.

“Yes, Miss?” Had the AI’s voice changed somehow? It almost had an accent.

“Call Roger.” The com panel switched from a mirror to a blank screen.

Seconds later, the AI replied. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Grainer’s line is busy. A faint busy signal sounded in the background.

Funny, not even a voice mail prompt. Huh, maybe Roger’s inbox was full? Today was chock-full of strangeness.

The package had her name and Roger’s address on it. Stephanie Timms, 1 Ault Park Drive, Cincinnati, OH 45208. Oh, what the heck, she’d open it. Maybe her estranged mother sent it? Not that Roger wanted her to reestablish that relationship. Nope, Roger liked it best when Stephanie focused entirely on him. Besides, all Mom wanted to talk about was old, boring stuff.

Shaking the package revealed little. It rustled a bit, and there might be a very faint metal-on-metal tinkle. Curiosity got the better of her, and she used a steak knife to carve the box open.

Inside, nestled within the bio-degradable packaging material, she found a small velvet-covered jewelry box. Had Roger sent her a gift? Maybe it meant he was coming home? Another twinge, this time all good, weakened her knees. The jewelry box sprung open with a touch. Inside, on a bed of matching velvet, lay a delicate rose-gold chain with two heart-shaped pendants. The larger of the two was a simple outline, the other, a smaller solid heart with a single engraved “S” and a tiny inset diamond. It was a lovely necklace but far cheaper than anything Roger usually gifted to her.

Under the bright kitchen lights, she noticed light scratches on the flat surfaces. Was this a used necklace? Why in the world would Roger send her used jewelry? Still, it was pretty, and the rose gold would complement her hair and eyes. Something about it seemed familiar. Maybe she’d seen one like it before? Stephanie stepped to the wall display, already back in mirror mode, and put the necklace on.

As if closing the clasp also completed a circuit, a latent memory of donning this same bit of jewelry flitted through her mind. A young man and a high school dance. How crazy. Roger would never allow her to do any such thing.

Thinking about Roger helped settle her thoughts. The memories must have come from a movie. Odd that the title slipped her mind; she usually remembered everything. This necklace and its disturbing fake memories needed to go. She’d put it away and leave it for Roger to explain. Back at the box, she noticed an envelope partially hidden under the padding. Inside, Stephanie found a printed picture. Her, wearing a red cocktail dress and a boy in a suit. He had curly, uncombable hair and warm brown eyes. The same gleam lurked there as had in the delivery driver’s eyes.

Barriers inside her mind crashed away and not without discomfort. Six months’ worth of ten-year-old memories returned in a flash, each stampeding for their places in her mind and heart. Like a highlight reel of her sixteenth summer and fall, snatches of events poured into her soul. The pain of remembering a lost life crashed down and took Stephanie into darkness.

When Stephanie collapsed, Jason dropped his phone and hammered the truck’s start button. “Get the gate and the front door open, Alfred. I’m going in.” The dashboard displays flickered on as his Ford pickup hummed to life.

“Is that wise, Master Jason?”

Regardless of Alfred’s opinion, the vehicular traffic between Jason’s parking spot and the Grainer estate parted like the Red Sea. Jason’s eyes bugged out as cars and busses drifted to the curb. “Holy heck, buddy, I didn’t know you could do that.” Without waiting for a reply, Jason floored the accelerator and zoomed onto the cleared roadway. “Is she okay?”

“Miss Stephanie is still breathing.”

“That’ll have to do.” Not too far ahead, the steel gate, barring entry to the former public park, slid out of view. Seconds later, his truck whirred through the gap. Several more seconds passed, and Jason slammed on the brakes, and his Ford pickup screeched to a stop. The mansion’s front door stood ajar, and Jason barreled through. From his and Alfred’s spying, he knew the floorplan. Jason dashed through the foyer, with its polished marble floor, down the hallways and skidded into the kitchen. His heart thudded when he found Stephanie crumpled on the floor.

Alfred barked a warning as Jason approached. “Be careful. Remember what Natalie said.” The warning almost came too late. Jason stumbled and nearly tripped over his feet. “That Loyalty Gene thing?”

“Exactly. If you trigger it, Miss Stephanie may become dangerous.”

The slow rise and fall of Stephanie’s chest told Jason she lived. “I can’t believe she’d ever hurt me.” Like before, when he delivered the box, the urge to embrace her nearly overwhelmed him.

“She may no longer be the girl you once knew. Please, Jason, be careful.”

Recollections of a lost life swirled in a confusing jumble. Mom laughing. Mom crying. Mom dazed and incoherent after Gene finished with her. A cold hatred swelled at the memory of her father, that worthless sperm donor. The three of them moving into and out of a series of houses. Then a bright spot, a teasing young man with a special smile and unkempt hair. Chasing behind that image was Roger, the stern-faced, young/old man who owned her.

The reason for her mysterious attraction to the delivery driver resolved itself. Mom finally sent Jason. Great, now Roger can have everyone murdered.

Stephanie opened her eyes. Across the room, Jason, the delivery driver, sat on the floor. His eyes, like hers, were full of tears. Seeing him again, after all these years, produced the oddest combination of emotions. Conflicting desires and contrary fears urged contradictory actions. She needed to drive him away, almost as much as she needed him to hold her. The anticipation of his touch brought another, albeit far weaker, wave of nausea. Yuck, this sucked! Maybe, if she wrote it down, someone would etch it on her tombstone: Here lies Stephanie the slave girl, nauseated and horny.”

Jason, handsome and buff with his short beard and tight-fitting shirt, stirred. He’d be twenty-six now, the same as her. She found her voice. “What did you do to me?”

“I brought you back.” He grinned.

He didn’t understand. “No, Jason, all you did was fill me with her memories. I’m not your Stephanie, not anymore.”

Jason shook his head in denial.

The stupid man. Barging in here without thinking. He’d be lucky to live out the week. Hell, she’d probably die too. There was no way Roger would forgive this.

Sighing, Stephanie used a corner of the table to help her stand.

Jason lurched to his feet, but he stopped before stepping any closer. At least he knew to keep his distance.

Sighing again, she waved her former boyfriend back, then pulled out a chair and sat. “Make yourself useful, Jason. Heat up the kettle for me.”

“Kettle?”

“Yes, Jason, the kettle.” She pointed to the cast iron teapot on the stove. “You know, to make tea?”

It became apparent that he couldn’t even manage this simple task. Even with Stephanie’s directions, every few seconds, his head would turn back to her, and a stupid grin would lift the corners of his mouth. It was kind of sweet and not a little flattering, but she needed the tea to help her think.

The big goof stood at the sink, making cow eyes at her while tap water overflowed from the kettle.

“Jason?”

“Steph, I-I missed you so much.”

“I know. You’ve told me twice already.”

“Oh,” his face clouded for a moment, but it cleared right back up. “I can’t believe we’re together again.”

“Look, Jay” she had to say it, “we’re not together again.” His face fell, and it nearly broke her heart. Before Stephanie realized it, she stood at his side. One hand reaching to shut off the tap, her other hand, all by itself, reached out and touched his arm. An invisible spark, or something, jumped between them, and they both flinched.

“Whoa!” he said. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying to rub the tingle from her fingers. “It must be static electricity. I’ll have the AI check the humidifier.”

Jason reached a hand towards hers. “Can I try?”

Afraid it might happen again, Stephanie skipped back a step. “Better not. We don’t know what might happen.”

The look in his eyes disagreed.

“Tell you what, Jay, I’ll help with the tea. Then we’ll talk, ‘kay?” ‘Kay was Jasonese from back then.

They moved around the kitchen in an odd choreography. He kept his distance. She did as well. At the same time, they watched each other with an ever-increasing warmth.

“I’ll get the cups. You put the kettle on the stove, okay?”

He nodded, “You want it hot.”

The way he said it made her pause. A sneaky glance back revealed nothing. Jason had an innocent smile plastered across his face. All too aware of his intent, she nodded. “Yeah, boiling hot.” For good measure, she added, “Hot enough to hurt!”

All he did was smile.

Stephanie decided this occasion was special enough to warrant the full tea service. While Jason obediently watched the kettle heat, she got out the fancy tea stuff. Once or twice, she caught his eyes following her.

“You’re taller than I remember,” she said in passing.

“Yeah, I kept growing until my senior year in high school. It drove Mom crazy buying me clothes.”

“Isn’t that unusual?”

“Not so much. It runs in Dad’s family. We’re late bloomers.”

The ceramic teapot was in the cabinet to Jason’s left. At first, Stephanie thought to ask him to get it. No, he’d mess it up somehow. Casually, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Stephanie passed close enough to raise goosebumps. It was daring to see how close she could get.