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Nothing hurt Nikolas more than to make him powerless.
And somehow Philipa had done that to him this afternoon.
Somethingbound them still.
If Nikolas could not or would not break this unhealthy bond, then he, Ben Rider-Mikkelsen would do it for him.
Philipa would tell him the truth.
It was what he was here for.
He’d not accompanied Nikolas to bed.
He’d pulled on his leathers.
He’d left.
Nikolas wouldn’t tell him what was wrong? He’d find out another way.
The figure on the bed made a small rattle of breath and turned.
It was hard to tell, given the intense darkness in the country house, whether she was still deeply asleep or not, but Ben risked the noise of locking the door before sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his large, strong hand firmly over the older woman’s mouth.
* * *
Chapter 38
Four Months Before April
Philipa reacted as any woman might who started from sleep to discover she could not breathe. Despite her aristocratic unflappability, regardless of now being surrounded by the Met’s Royal Protection Branch, even though upon immediately opening her eyes she discovered that this impending death was being caused byBen Rider, there was undiluted panic in her expression when she processed the ugly, undeniable truth of her situation.
Ben immediately spoke clearly and calmly. "If you tell me what I want to know, truthfully and without hesitation, I won’t hurt you. Do you understand? Nod if you do."
He got the anticipated head jerk.
Removing his hand and rising to stand over her, he added, "You shouldn’t let little three year olds run around your corridors. You enabled me to see your setup here today. That was a mistake. No guards in the house itself? You should have one sitting right outside your door. Good for me though. If you scream, no one will hear you."
Another small twitch of the terrified woman's neck, and Ben relaxed a fraction, studying the all-too familiar features.
“Why couldn’t you have just thanked him for the fucking present? But no,he—your poncy prince—had to play who’s got the bigger balls, who’s gotroyalballs, didn’t he?”
“Ben, dear, listen, you don’t have to—”
“He hated Nik, didn’t he? Right from the beginning. That Nik got to live here with you, buthehad to skulk around in the night like a fox visiting the henhouse.”
She appeared to weigh up her situation at this relaxed tone, and gradually eased higher against the pillow, pulling a dressing gown, which had been tossed on the end of the bed, around her shoulders. “No, it was never that. It was just Nikki himself. I think men either hate and envy him, or are drawn to him like magnets. There never seems to be a middle ground. They were like little boys—I could never leave them alone in a room together.”
“I want to know what your…what your future…what he said to Nik. On the phone in the car. We just came here today to give you a gift.”
She offered him a more characteristic look, her shock at his arrival in her room clearly fading, her belief in his willingness to actually hurt her perhaps diminishing. She was making a mistake, if that’s what she was thinking.
“You’re an idiot, Ben. Or just utterly weak where he’s concerned. But I think you know that. It’s where most of your insecurity stems from. Nikolas was being deliberately cruel and provocative, taking this last chance to flaunt his—”
“You don’t know him!” Ben heard the uncharacteristic rising pitch of his voice and hated himself for it, for being where he was, for being the person he had become. Because of Nik.Alwaysbecause of Nikolas Mikkelsen.
Philipa regarded him for a moment, her habitually unruffled demeanour returning. Then she laughed lightly. Condescendingly. Ben suspected he knew who had the realcojonesin her new relationship. “I know him a great deal better than you think, Ben. Don’t start this with me. What would you call it in your charming way? A pissing contest? Yes. You won’t like where it goes. I can piss farther than you without even standing up.Imade that phone call.”
Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He tried to tamp down the nagging little voice telling him to stop, to shut up while he was ahead, that, indeed, he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear, but instead pointed out with studied calmness, “We’ve been together ten years.No oneknows him like I do.” Only as the words left his mouth did he hear that there was no calmness at all in his tone, that the tranquillity he’d been going for had only made his throat tight, his words clipped and forced—bitter.
