Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Sitting on the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar room, Ben thought about the man who had, for one startling, terrifying moment, become a great deal more familiar.
For one instant, studying the scar upon his boss’s wrist, Ben had felt an intensity of emotion toward the man that had seized his throat to silence, made his heart pound fast and nervous in his chest. Everything was fear and darkness, chaos, but in that maelstrom he’d seen Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen like a beacon, a blond flash of power in the night.
Safety. Nikolas Mikkelsen was shelter. Ben, tossed on a storm of terrifying confusion and doubt, desperately wanted that safe harbour.
He realized he was rubbing his scar.
He looked at the white bed and then around the large, pale room and stood uncertainly.
The kitchen was empty.
He heard an odd noise and followed the sound.
Nikolas Mikkelsen was swimming furious lengths in the blue-glass swim lane.
Ben sank down on the walkway, wrapping his arms around his knees.
Now he understood the man’s physique—the broad, powerful shoulders, which tapered to such a slim waist. He was doing butterfly strokes, barely rippling the surface of the blue water as his vast shoulders rose, bringing around powerful arms, cutting the water relentlessly.
When he reached the far end of one length, he propelled himself from the water and reached down to a towel, rubbing his face and hair as he came up to Ben.
He stood over him, cool drops landing on Ben’s upturned face.
Ben rose hesitantly to his feet. “I couldn’t stay in that room.
It makes it worse somehow.” His eyes travelled over Nikolas’s scarred, powerful body.
His boss tolerated the scrutiny then turned toward his own suite of rooms at the far end of the swim lane.
He paused and Ben understood he was supposed to accompany him.
They entered the darkened bedroom together. “Do I swim in there?”
Nikolas turned, a wry smile on his face. “You fell in once when you were drunk and pissed in it. I had to have it drained and refilled.”
Ben’s jaw dropped. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.”
Nikolas shrugged. “You’ve done worse.”
“And you still keep me on?”
“Yes. I still keep you on.”
“I must be a very good bodyguard.”
“Oh, I would say so, yes. You’ve cared for my body very well for years. You’re staring at me, Benjamin.”
Ben immediately jerked his eyes away. “I was looking at your scars. Are those cigarette burns?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not good.”
“No. I’ve never told you how I got them.”
Ben frowned. “Why would you have done?”
Nikolas smiled faintly. “We talk about a lot of things.”
“Oh.” He suddenly tipped his head to one side. “I think that’s what I was feeling in my room just now—I was missing…talking to you.”
“Missing…me?”
Ben heard the difference in these two but didn’t know how to interpret it so he just nodded. Then he shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders. “I’m not much of a talker normally.”
“Neither was I. Until I met you.”
“How did we meet? I mean, why did I leave the army and come work for you?”
* * *
Nikolas eyed the bathroom for a moment then sighed and pulled some jeans on over his wet swimsuit.
He sat on the end of the bed and indicated for Ben to sit in the armchair, which he did, perching on the edge, as if flight might become necessary.
“These things all tie together. I can’t tell you one thing without venturing onto other things I don’t know whether to tell you… whether you’re ready to hear.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I’m not a child! I’m…not going to break! Just tell me!”
“Do you trust me, Ben?”
Ben suddenly shot out of his chair and came close, making Nikolas lean back on his hands. Then Ben sat right alongside Nikolas, his eyes wide. “I’ve always said yes to that, haven’t I? I’ve always trusted you. You’re my beacon.”
“What?” Nikolas cursed the quiver in his voice. He sounded like whiny ten-year-old Aleksey, questioning his father and that man’s dark desires.
Ben was apparently lost to his own thoughts, staring at the tor above them illuminated in moonlight. “This girl I love?” Nikolas locked his expression down, divulging nothing, and Ben continued, “I don’t want to meet her now. Not yet, anyway. I think I need to get this straight first.”
“This?” Fuck it! Go away, Aleksey, you stupid baby!
Ben’s eyes lowered and fastened onto Nikolas.
Nikolas swallowed then ventured in as even a voice as he could conjure, “I think, in your own way, you’re beginning to remember what we are to each other.
I said we were friends. We’ve been…best friends for over eight years, Ben.
We’re very close. I want you to understand that I’m seeing this whole situation very differently to how you’re seeing it.
I know a great deal about you—because you’ve told me these things.
I don’t know what to do. I’m as lost in this as you. ”
Ben’s eyes were enormous, green even in the darkness of the room. “Your best friend?”
Nikolas nodded.
“So you’re…” Ben frowned deeply. “You’re missing me as well?”
Nikolas swallowed and bit his lip, glancing away. Ben made a small noise and touched him very briefly on his leg.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking so much about me I didn’t think about how this has affected all of you.”
Nikolas kept his eyes lowered.
“But this is weird, yeah?”
It was Nikolas’s turn to frown, uncomprehendingly. Ben shrugged. “I mean, two guys, best friends, bit weird, yeah, but I get that, but…” A wave of his hand said it all. Nikolas semi-naked, Ben on the bed far too close to be just friends, the dark, the moonlight…
Nikolas began to laugh. Ben looked theatrically put out. “What? What did I say?”
Nikolas just shook his head and rose from the bed. “Benjamin? You have no idea.”
* * *
Returned once more to his sparse room, Ben felt a sense of lightness he’d not felt since waking up confused and alone in a house in London he didn’t recognise.
Sure, he didn’t recollect this room, either, but he knew Nikolas was only a little way from him, and Nikolas would be there in the morning.
He lay down in the unfamiliar bed and thought about all they’d discussed that day.
His mind was spinning with images. He wondered if he’d dream and, if he did, would his mind conjure a world it couldn’t remember?
Could you dream someone else’s dreams? It felt as if he were living another Ben Rider’s life, so why not dream that Ben Rider’s dreams?
In the morning, he woke from a shocking, unbelievable dream fully erect and coming into the sheets.
He cried out in the intensity of the release and the terrible shame of his desires, but when it was over and he was wrung out and shaking, fully awake, he could no longer remember the details or who’d been in that unreality with him.
He lay back and thought about the day to come. It was still dark through the glass roof above him. He suddenly had an extremely good idea.
He pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt and made his way to the kitchen.
Radulf came over to greet him, dragging a filthy old piece of blanket.
Ben frowned and rubbed the dog’s ears for a while, trying to remember something.
He looked into the unseeing amber eyes. It was like having the worst case of déjà vu: everything just on the edges of his consciousness, just out of reach.
He gave it up and concentrated on the task in hand.
He thought first about coffee, but for some reason, he just knew Nikolas didn’t drink it.
He had once but now he didn’t—and why did that make him think about Radulf’s blanket again?
He made tea instead. He chose some mugs, added sugar to his, because he did take sugar, regardless of what his boss claimed yesterday, and then found a packet of biscuits.
He put the two mugs on a tray and threw on the biscuits then added a saucer so they could put the teabags on when fished out.
He carried the tray carefully along the walkway to the back rooms and quietly slipped into the bedroom.
His boss was still asleep. He stood for a while, looking at him.
He slept to one side of the bed, which was odd, given he could have spread out.
It seemed incredibly strange, in his conscious thinking mind, to sit carefully cross-legged on the space alongside this man—but absolutely right deep down.
He’d soon find out which of his body parts was lying to him.
* * *
Nikolas woke, hoped he didn’t have to come back to consciousness at all, but then did and remembered it all, letting it hit him and wash him away once more with a pain he’d thought would kill him.
He’d once thought Ben dead.
This was almost worse. This was almost worse.
God help him, but this was almost worse.
He heard a faint sound and turned so quickly there was a, “Fuck. Careful,” and he was handed a mug, dripping with slopped tea. He sat up.
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Okay. I’m thinking head was right; this isn’t your usual wake up call.”
Nikolas put a hand out and stopped him moving away. “No. It is actually. I just wasn’t…” He regrouped with some visible effort. “You always bring me tea and the morning paper then go for a run.”
“Huh. You don’t come running, too?”
Nikolas gave him a winning smile. “Oh, no, never.” He’d just discovered the first advantage of your boyfriend forgetting you.
“Sorry, I didn’t see a paper.”