Ben nodded, his hand shooting out to grab onto mine. It wasn't an intrusive hold, just a gentle squeeze, and he let me go again. "Dylan told me a little so I'd be prepared, and I'm kind of hoping your brother shows up here so his life can be over."
I snorted. "What, you planning on killing him?"
Ben shrugged, and there was a flash of darkness in his eyes I hadn't noticed until this moment. "It wouldn't bother me one bit, but I'd have to get in line behind Dylan. That dude would fuck me up if I stole his kill from him, and trust me, you never want to be on Dylan’s bad side."
Funny that Dylan had that rep with other people because in all the time I'd known him, I'd very rarely felt more than an ounce of fear in his presence. And never that true fear that starts low in your gut and unfurls like a bad stench, cramping your body up and filling your mind with the most horrific thoughts as your pulse pounded heavily in your body.
Nope. Dylan got my pulse racing for other reasons, but never in real terror.
"How long have you known Dylan?" I asked him.
Ben stretched back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head as he thought about my question. "You know, on and off, I've known Dylan almost my entire life. My family was nowhere close to his upper echelons of the billionaire world, of course, but we still ran in similar circles. I ended up at the camp at the same time he was one year, and we teamed up to survive a couple of the bullshit obstacles they threw our way." His expression was hard, and I was starting to see who the real Ben was under his easy smile and charm.
"Dylan said the camp used to be pretty hardcore."
His expression indicated that might have been a bit of an understatement. "I think, truthfully, the older generation of Delta members were actually trying to kill their heirs. And some of them succeeded."
Christ.
"But you survived," I reminded him.
"Because of Dylan, I did," he replied without hesitation. "The man you know now was once a child who was forced to grow up or die, and he's one of the most skilled and scary badasses I've ever known."
"He fought off so many men when we were attacked," I said softly, scenes from that night flashing back at me. "Like, on his own with barely a damn weapon."
Ben just laughed. "Not even remotely surprised."
The nurse arrived soon after that, and Ben stepped out of the room so she could do my check up, change the pad out from under me on the bed, help me to the bathroom, and all the fun stuff.
"Your bleeding has completely stopped?" she asked as she remade the bed.
I nodded. "It appears to have, at least the last few times I used the bathroom."
She smiled. "Great. I'll let your doctors know, and they'll no doubt check in on your pregnancy and make sure it's still viable."
Still viable. So cold and clinical, but I wasn't going to get mad at a poor nurse for doing her job. "Thank you."
When she left the room, Ben returned. "Dylan's lead didn't pan out," he said straight away. "He'll be back soon, so we’d better get all of our gossip about him out of the way ASAP."
I snorted out some laughter. "And what gossip could either of us have about that coldly walled up asshole? He's one of the worst communicators I've ever met."
Ben didn't laugh with me. "There's no denying that he could stand to work on his people skills a lot, but with the way his life was... it's not totally a surprise. I'd have been a total sociopath."
"What do you mean?" I tried to sound casual, but my desperation to know more about Dylan could not be contained.
"He grew up with a racist father who hated him but kept him around because he needed an heir and a stepmother that resented the child who would always be a reminder of her husband's infidelity. His biological mother, who was the family nanny, disappeared when he was a baby, and he has no idea what happened to her. I've always had the feeling he thinks his father just murdered her and dumped her ass in a river somewhere."
"Holy fuck," I whispered. I'd had no idea Dylan had lived like that. Why had I expected his family to be nicer than my own? I should have guessed. Rich people were notorious bastards, especially old-money rich.
"Oh yeah, it's fucked up, and I only know about ten percent of the shit he's been through."
If that. Dylan wasn't exactly the open-up-about-his-problems type.
"Wait." A thought occurred to me suddenly. "How was his mother the nanny if Dylan was kept around to be the heir? Who did she nanny? The pets?"
Ben shook his head. "You're clever. I like that about you." His expression sobered dramatically. "And... Dylan had an older sister. She died saving his life, and it really destroyed him."
My chest ached at the thought of him going through something like that on top of losing his mom.
