Finally, Dylan turned and met my eyes. His brow was drawn in a deep frown, but his clear green eyes were full of concern and confusion. He wasn't condemning me like Kingston already had. Not yet, anyway.
"Why would he do that, Brooke?" His question was soft, meant for me and me alone, but Kingston snorted a laugh.
"He wouldn't. Blake Lawson relies too heavily on his Delta-Huntley contracts to be anything but perfectly loyal to us. Besides, she's his own sister. No bastard hands his sister over unless she's one hundred percent guilty."
Except Blake didn't think of me as his sister. I was his possession, his property, and his pawn to sacrifice if the need arose. Apparently, it had.
My mouth watered and nausea rolled through me again.
"I'm going to be sick," I whispered. Dylan released my shoulder and gave me a small push in the direction of a door to the side of his desk. I didn't question him, just bolted through it and all but threw myself at the small toilet inside.
All that came up was bile and a bit of trail mix, thanks to our skipped lunch break. Even when I had nothing left, my stomach kept dry heaving.
How could Blake do this to me? What the hell was Delta going to do to me now? I didn't have their files. I couldn't return stolen property that I had no idea where to find. Holy fuck, were they going to hurt me? Torture me for answers?
I heaved again, but nothing came up. Goddamn, I needed to eat soon, or I was going to pass the hell out.
A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to meet Dylan's concerned eyes.
"Are you okay, Brooke?" he asked me in a soft, tender voice. "You're seriously starting to worry me."
I almost laughed. Almost. But there was no freaking way I was going to throw around pregnancy scares until I knew for sure. I needed some way to get a test, and soon. Until then...
"I told you," I croaked, "I think I've got the flu."
He just stared down at me for a long moment, then sighed heavily.
"Take your time; maybe wash your face. Riley has a weak stomach too; it always seemed to help her." He paused, his lips tight and his expression apologetic. "I've called her to come and sort this mess out. She's a good hour or so away, though, so I'll get you some food in the meantime."
Words failed me. On the one hand,Riley freaking Duboisewas coming here to... what? Haul me away for interrogation? But then, on the other hand, Dylan was currently acting so damn caring, and I’d never had that before. Maybe not even from my mostly absent parents. He was looking after me even after I’d been accused of stealing something important from his company.
I sensed he was still reserving judgment, but at least he hadn’t already drawn and quartered me without trial. Knowing this might be my last opportunity to try and explain my side, I pushed myself up. "Dylan," I said, but... he was already gone, the door closing behind him.
With a sigh I took his advice, washing up the best I could, but my hands shook as I rested them on the sink. How could Blake do this to me?Now?Just when I actually had a good freaking thing going. Last night and today with Dylan had been the most fun I'd had in ages, and of course, that sort of experience had to be ruined by my brother. Would this actually be my life if that didn't happen?
When I returned to the main office, Kingston was gone, but I could see through the window that the cars were still outside. Dylan had clearly kicked him from the room, but he and his guys hadn't left the camp yet. No doubt they would wait for their "boss" to show up.Miss Deboise.I was finally going to meet the famous Riley, the woman who was able to steal the hearts of two Delta heirs. Two of the most eligible bachelors in the world.
I didn't even have to meet her to know she wouldn't put up with her brother beating, belittling, and starving her. Riley probably had a vagina of steel and would have put a blade between her brother's shoulder blades long before it’d reached this point.
Yeah, I was no fucking Riley Deboise, but that was okay. It had to be. I could only be myself, and hopefully, when they gave me a chance to explain, I wouldn't find myself in a Delta torture chamber.
"Stop hovering in the doorway and take a seat, Brooke," Dylan said, not looking my way, but he’d clearly heard me re-enter—probably by how loudly I was overthinking. "No one will come back again until Riley gets here, outside of the food order I've put in."
He was telling me I was safe, for now, and I believed him.
Crossing the last few steps, I sank into the chair on the opposite side of the desk from him and then stared at his face like a creeper. There was a decent chance I'd never see it again after today.
He'd been doing some sort of paperwork, but the moment I sat, he stopped and looked at me. "Tell me everything about your brother, Brooke?"
My aim in life was to never talk about Blake again—talk about, see, or breathe the same air as Blake. Talking to Dylan about my life with him was especially shameful, but if I wanted him on my side when I tried to prove my innocence to the rest of Delta-Huntley, I had no other choice.
"It all started when our parents were killed," I said softly, shaking my head and laughing with humor. "Actually, it started before that. Blake was an evil little shit from birth, always hurting me when no one else was looking. Shoving me over, breaking my toys, breaking our parent’s shit and blaming me. It was like he hated me for existing, and any way he could make my life harder, he did. But once they died and there was no one to notice the bruises and the rest, he upped his game."
The pen in Dylan's hand cracked under the pressure he was applying to it, and even though his face was fairly calm, it was clear he didn't love what he was hearing. "He hurt you during the time we’ve been seeing each other?"
I nodded. "He has hurt me at least once a week for years. The sort of hurt you have to lie in bed and recover from."
Dylan slammed the pen down, and ink splattered across the white paper on his desk. "He’ll pay for that, Brooke. Don’t you fucking worry. But first... What do you know about his business ventures?"
