Secrets (Passion Shields) (6 page)

Standing b
arefooted her head only came up to Ben's chest, but she stood her ground. Her vital blood-pumping organ pounded against her chest.

He paced away, turning his
stiffened back and giving her some breathing space. She exhaled in relief, grateful that he wasn't towering over her in an intimidating pose.

"I know you, how much you lo
ve your work, how hard you work," he said. "You have this thing within you that pushes you, that's says it's not enough for you to give one hundred percent. You have to give extra, go beyond what's required. You want to give back, perhaps because of the people who took care of you when you needed it. And this is the only way you know how."

He turned round. Something in his intense gaze snatched her breath away.

"It also stops you from thinking too hard about your past. If you work yourself to exhaustion, when you come home your brain won't engage in thought and you can sleep ‘til the next morning and start all over again."

He took a step towards her.

"Of course what happens is that by the time you get to Friday, your brain is pretty fried and you need something to level out all that adrenaline. Otherwise your mind and your body crashes and you swing into a depression, your nightmares overwhelming you. This is why you've taken to play day so quickly. Because the alternative is much worse."

Tears clouded her eyes. She
swiped them with her left hand. How could this man know so much about her when she had never verbalized any of it? She'd always thought his perceptive abilities were uncanny. But this was a whole new level. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry that he could see through to the murky depths of her soul.

"Have I said anything that wasn't true?"

A huge lump clogged her throat. Unable to speak, she shook her head turning her back to him, knowing that if she met his gaze, she would crumble into a heap on the floor.

"That's why we need the rules. To keep you safe. To stop the panic attacks. To help you cope with the fear eating away at you inside."

A sob tore through her chest. She gripped the edge of the counter and bent over to gulp in air, the truth of his word corroding her resolve. She had never admitted it to herself, but she needed the safety net their routines and rules provided. It allowed her to let go without trepidation, something she'd been unable to do for so long. While she smiled at the world and worked hard at being successful, inside she was ruled by terror. The fear of the unknown, of open spaces, of big crowds, of being attacked again.

At last she exhaled a
nd opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She turned slowly letting him see the despair in her eyes. With a groan, he tugged her close and lowered his lips to meet hers, his arms circling her body in an encompassing hug.

Breaking off the kiss, he sighed and
leaned his forehead against hers. She wanted to stay in his embrace, for him to carry her away into their room so they could be locked away from the world. So he could make right all that had gone wrong with today.

"Am I disturbing you love birds
?"

Benjamin lifted his head
, but he didn't release his hold on Selina. His sister stood at the kitchen door.

"Hi, Bea." He smiled
, but Selina noticed the smile was wary.

Beatri
ce walked in. "Hello, brother."

Ben
let go of Selina and engulfed his sister in a brief hug. She was tiny compared to him, but Selina could see the resemblance immediately in their coloring.

"You're looking well."

"So do you. Marriage seems to be working for you."

Selina almost smiled. Was the woman actually saying ni
ce things about her indirectly?

Ben
chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"On the other hand…" Beatrice looked around. "You wife promised me some pasta
, but it doesn’t look like it’s gotten far with your arrival. I'm starving."

"Don't push your luck
, Bea. Lina is a fine cook, but she's not allowed to cook on Saturdays. So you're going to have to wait a little for some takeaway"

"Really? Whose rule is that?" S
he looked from Ben to Selina. Selina suppressed a grin. "Can't you make an exception?"

"It's my rule
, and there are no exceptions. You either wait for takeaway or you make your own dinner."

Beatrice
pouted her lips. "You're going to make me cook my own food? I'm your guest."

"It'
s your choice."

Ben scooped
Selina up and carried her down the hallway to their bedroom. Excited, she hid her smile, tucking her face in his chest. He kicked the door shut behind them, walked over to the bed and deposited her on it.

"You stay right there," Ben said
in a dangerously low voice, his expression stern. "I need to talk to Bea. When I come back you're going to be punished for disobeying play day rules and scaring me half to death like you just did."

Her breath hit
ched, and her heart raced. Instead of fear, her womb contracted in expectation as he strode out of the room, his scent lingering.

Chapter Six

It took all of Benjamin's resolve to walk away from Selina and shut the bedroom door behind him. That he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and hold her tight to make sure nothing ever hurt her again while making sweet love to her was one reason. It was warring with the urge to bury his dick balls deep into her dripping wet pussy after he'd spanked her bottom raw and then fuck her so hard until she begged him to stop.

In either case, walking away was difficult, the weight of the erection straining his
fly telling him he wouldn’t have lasted long inside her anyway. If he was to administer the punishment she needed with any ounce of control, then he'd have to find another way to relieve the tension in his balls before he touched her.

In the kitchen, Beatrice was leaning against a counter with the menu of their local pizzeria in her hand. A smile curled his lips. He should'v
e known she would never cook. At least not by choice anyway. Each time she stayed in his apartment, she rarely cooked, unless you classed making a sandwich as cooking.

Back in Johannesburg, she had been spoilt
by a house full of domestic servants. She'd never needed to cook.

"Luigi's is a great restaurant," he said as he started clearing up the items Selina had abandoned on the
work top.

"I know that," Beatrice
said, her tone still sulky.

Ben glanced up at her and smiled. "Of course you've ordered from them before. Just pick what you want
, and I'll place the order. Either James or Martin will go and pick it up before the night concierge arrives."

She nodded.

He returned some food to the fridge, tossed the chopped ones into the bin under the sink and loaded the dishwasher with the empty pans.

When he straightened, his sister was staring at him with a frown on
the face.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I should be asking you that question. Why are you the one cleaning up? Where's Selina?"

He laughed. "I can't believe you asked that question. Have you never seen me cleaning up before?"

"That was when you were single. Moreover the housekeeper was here almost every day, so you didn't have to clean up the kitchen. Now you're married. You should leave the housekeeping to Selina."

He
shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I like tidying up. Selina is busy with something else."

"Seriously? What could be more important than her doing her wifely duties?"

"Making me happy."

"But—"

"Trust me. She is performing her wifely duties."
And more
, he omitted from saying as he smiled.

"Moreover, I didn't marry Selina for her cleaning abilities." He winked.

Bea's cheeks turned a rosy red as she blushed, her lips shaped in an O. Her expression reminded him of the time she'd walked in on him and Chris with Siba. Even after ten years, she was still as prudish. Some things never changed.

"Have you de
cided what you want from the restaurant?" He changed the subject.

She quickly lifted the menu, happy to refocus on something else instead of the image he was sure she'd conjured up.

"I'll have the carbonara," she said and handed the menu to him.

Ben pulled his phone out of his back trouser pocket and dialed the number for the restaurant. After placing the order
that included some calamari and linguine for Selina, he returned the menu to the drawer his sister had removed it from.

Beatrice pulled a bottle of wine out of the rack.

"Would you like some?" she asked.

He nodded, reaching for two wine glasses in the
shelf above his head. He put them on the table, took the bottle from his sister and opened it with a corkscrew.

"How long are you in London for this time?" he asked as he poured the
Stellenbosch Roussanne, a favorite from the coastal region of South Africa.

"It depends.
" She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and picked up a filled glass. "I've got an audition for a play in the West End on Wednesday. If it goes well, then I could be here a long time."

He smiled. His sister the budding actress. While she'd performed in a few plays in their home country, she'd always dreamt of starring in a role in the London West End. Just like their mother in her heyday.

Looking at her now she looked so much like their much loved parent.

"I'm sure you'll get the role," he said as he lifted his glass
, the delicate peachy aroma filling his nose.

"We'll see."
Her upper lip trembled nervously, her smile weak. "I have to get through the audition first."

"You'll be fine. You're talented." He squeezed her tense shoulder.
Realizing she was more nervous that she appeared, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a bear hug. This was his kid sister. His only sister. He'd always looked out for her, though in recent years they'd lived in separate countries.

"Don't worry about it." He pulled back and stared into her grey eyes that
glittered with tears. "I know I'm going to see your name up in big lights one day."

Her lips widened
, and her eyes brightened as she smiled.

"You always say that to me."

"That's because it's true."

He pulled her to the tall stool. When she hopped on, he pulled another one and sat next to her.

"You're going to be more famous than Mama was."

Their mother, Elizabeth Seagraves-Moss
, had been a world famous actress who had starred in leading roles in plays as well as movies. From the time Beatrice learnt to walk and talk, she'd always wanted to follow in their mother's footsteps.

The sound of Beatrice's weary sigh floated in the air.

"I do miss her a lot," she said.

"So do I, sis.
So do I," he said in a somber tone, his voice gruff.

"But you know
Mama. She wouldn’t have wanted us to mope around. So how about we say a toast to me landing this role?"

"Of course." He lif
ted his wine glass. "Here's to Beatrice Moss, the new West End star."

She laughed as they clicked their wine glasses together. "Cheers!"

They sipped the wine in silence for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but he knew his sister was waiting for him to talk about their uncle.

There was no better time than now.

"So how is Uncle doing?"

She looked at him, her face scrunched up in a frown.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Of course I
do. I wouldn’t ask otherwise."

"He misses you."

A bark of laughter exploded from his lips. Good thing he hadn't just taken a sip of his wine. Otherwise she would've had a wine shower.

"If I believe that—"

"It's true. He doesn't show it outwardly, but I know he does."

Ben shook his head. "That man doesn't need anyone. He wouldn’t know how to miss anyone."

Beatrice's jaw tightened, her eyes saddening.

"You know the two of you are so similar. So stubborn."

"I'm nothing like that man." He stood up and walked away from the table. Swiveling he faced her again. "He sent me an email—no, a summons—to return to Jo'burg."

She nodded.

"You know about it."

Her chest heaved as s
he inhaled deeply. "Yes, he told me."

"Why?"

Frown lines appeared on her otherwise smooth forehead. "Why what?"

"Why does he want me home now? He'
s never bothered before."

"He never bothered before because he thought you'd come home sooner. But you've moved on." She paused. "And now, you've married. He's not happy about that."

"Ha! Like I didn't know that already."

"You should have seen him. For days after you called to tell him about your wedding, he walked around like an angry bear snapping at everyone."

"Nothing's changed there then," he said.

"I'm serious. This time it's different. There's something not quite right about him. I…"
She trailed off.

"W
hat? Spill it, Bea. What's going on?"

"I think he's sick."

He pursed his lips and lifted his glass of wine. "Fine. I'll pay for him to be treated. I don't have to see him."

He turned around re
ady to walk out of the kitchen door.

"He's dying, Ben. I think Uncle's got cancer."
Her voice sounded choked.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Slowly he turned around
. Beatrice watched him with a film of tears in her eyes, glistening and ready to fall.

Regardless of how he felt about their uncle, his sister loved the man like a father
, and Leonard treated her like his little princess, spoiling her.

"Are you
certain?"

She lifted her shoulders letting it hang in the air for a couple of heartbeats.

"I'm not absolutely sure, but he's been seeing a doctor although he says it's for nothing serious."

A tear rolled down her cheek
.

"Bea, that man is as strong as an ox. It'll take more than a little illness to kill him off
," he said. They'd often joked that the old man would outlive them.

She smiled weakly.

"What if it's something more serious? Promise me, Ben." She stared at him with doe eyes."Promise me you'll go and see him and resolve this thing between both of you."

He waited the pulse of several heartbeats before responding. This obviously meant a lot to his sister. Although he didn’t think the old man was any closer to the grave than the rest of the
m, finally burying the hatchet between the two of them was a good enough motive to visit his old home. For the sake of his sister and his new wife.

"I promise. I'll go and see him."

"Good." She jumped off the stool. "Now, they better hurry up. I need food before I can go partying."

He raised one eyebrow, half-amused. The rate at which she recovered was too
rapid.

"What?" she asked,
smiling at him innocently. "I'm not going to spend a Saturday night stuck indoors. I'm in London. This doesn't happen very often."

He laughed. "Oh, you are too good. So all th
e dramatics about uncle was put on."

She raised her hand to her chest and feigned offence. "As if I would. He is really sick
, and knowing how stubborn you can be, I had to exaggerate things a bit."

He frowned at her, feigning anger. "You know I don't like being manipulated."

"I'm sorry, but you've promised to go visit him. You can't renege on your promise."

She was right. He never went back on a promise.

"Fine. But don't ever pull that stunt again."

"I won't." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

She headed for the door. "By the way, Louisa is coming over."

He stared at her blankly.

"You know, my friend that fancies you?" she smiled sweetly.

"The same one who crawled into my bed the last time?"

"Yes. She's disappointed that you're married. She's willing to crawl naked through the streets if you tell her to."

She laughed and disappeared through the doorway.

Ben shook his head. His sister's words conjured up an image of the only woman he wanted crawling around naked for him. His wife. And she was awaiting him in their room. His pulse quickened. Time for some fun.

He should really leave her alone to think about the implication
s of what she'd done. At least until dinner time. But he wanted to see her. And why should he deny himself? Selina was the one being disciplined, not him.

He picked up the bottle of wine and
a single glass, walked to the living room. From the sideboard he withdrew his cigar case and took one roll out and stuck it into his shirt pocket.

On the way back to his bedroom, he knocked on Beatrice's door. She opened and stuck her head out.

"Listen out for the buzzer. The concierge will bring the food up. Get started. Selina and I will eat later."

She nodded and retreated. He walked down the hallway to the far door. His heart was already galloping at the anticipation of what would happen once he open the door.

Twisting the knob, he pushed the door open. His heart skipped several beats at the sight before him, his half-awake erection roaring to life. His grip on the wine and glass tightened to stop them from slipping.

This woman will be the death of me.