“I just need a minute,” he mutters. I can tell it hurts him to breathe. I remember how long it took for it not to hurt for me.
“He cracked my rib, probably did the same to you.” I touch his head and he hisses. “You might even have a concussion.”
“Baby,” he groans. “I’m barely keeping from flying off the handle. Please stop talking.”
“Okay.” I fold my hands in my lap.
I want to curl up and cry. Let myself fall to pieces, hide under a dozen blankets and forget I exist.
How did I get myself into this mess? And why did I drag Ben into it with me? He didn’t ask for any of this. I just piled it on him without thinking. It was very selfish of me.
What was I thinking even getting involved with Ben? I knew Charles’ family wanted him to marry me. They had a lot riding on our union. They want my family to join their fold, so they had control over their money and company. My parents didn’t see anything wrong merging businesses, they hoped it would make their empire bigger. I knew his parents were pressuring him to fix things with me. I didn’t think they would hold his inheritance over his head, but it makes sense.
It's not like either of our families play fair when it comes to earning their loyalty or love.
I shouldn’t have made a big deal about Charles cheating on me. Shouldn’t have threatened to break up with him. If I just played my part, pretended to not know, none of this would be happening.
Sure, I would’ve missed out on getting to sleep with Ben. And the sex was really great, great enough to almost make it worth all this. Almost.
But come morning, Ben is going to leave and never call me again. I will be left to beg Charles for his forgiveness. Take whatever abuse he dishes out and marry him. I’ll have to go back to being the girl everyone expects me to be and put on a happy face, like I’m not miserable.
Ben lifts his head, looking at me. “I told you to stay in the room.”
“I’m sorry. I was worried about you.”
“I had it under control,” he says, slowly lifting his head off the floor. “Mostly. Fuck.” He grabs at his side. “It’s been a while since someone punched me. I forgot how much it hurts.” He laughs, then wheezes.
“You really should go to the hospital.”
“What will they do? Put me in a wrap and hand me some pain pills? I don’t need any of that bullshit,” he says, resting on his knees.
“What if you have internal bleeding?”
“I probably do,” he groans as he pushes himself to his feet. Walking gingerly toward the couch he picks up the bottle from where he left it earlier. “They will just monitor me for a few hours and then send me a check for half a million dollars.” He takes a sip from the bottle.
“Drinking is probably not a good idea right now.”
“Nothing is a good idea right now.” He plops down on the couch and curses in pain. “Sit where I can see you.”
“Why?” I ask, but move to the couch, sitting on the other end of it. I think if he touches me right now, I will fall apart.
“I don’t trust you not to bolt. You’re a minute away from throwing yourself at the prick’s feet and begging him to take you back because it sounds easier than this.” He waves his hand in the air.
How does he seem to know me so well? No one has ever been able to read me like Ben does and it makes my stomach tense up. I don’t like him knowing me like that. It makes me feel too exposed. Too vulnerable.
“It is easier,” I whisper, tucking my knees against my chest. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Do you really think you could drag me into anything?” He looks over at me. “You could barely take my cock.” He smirks, taking another sip of alcohol. “I got involved because I wanted to.”
“You felt compelled. Obligated.”
“Ha. You really haven’t caught on, have you?” He stretches his legs out, groaning in pain. “I don’t do anything unless I want to.”
“Sure. You only ever do whatever it takes to get what you want. Now you’ve fucked me, gotten what you wanted and when the sun comes up, you’ll be gone and never talk to me again.”
“I said we could be friends.” He cocks his head at me. “Didn’t I say that? I’m not going anywhere, Prue. You are stuck with me.” His eyes shut and the bottle rests in the crook of his arm. “Better get used to it, baby.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I stay quiet. Slowly his breathing evens out and I realize he must have fallen asleep. I move forward, taking the bottle from his arm and he sighs, dropping on his side and groaning.
