HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

EIGHT

“When they saw that they were losing, one of those suicidal motherfuckers set off a bomb. Two of my men and I happened to be near the ladder to the basement, and we dove into the opening at the last minute. A section of the floor collapsed on me, knocking me out and killing one of the men who was with me. Luckily for me, one of my guards survived and remained conscious. He managed to drag both of us into the drainpipe, and there was enough fresh air coming in from the outside that we didn’t die of smoke inhalation,” he narrated as they settled on Brandon's bed.

Brandon lay on Wilson's lap while Wilson paid with Brandon's hair, twirling his fingers around his disheveled hair.

Brandon drew in a shaky breath. The drainpipe. . . That was the only place he hadn’t looked that horrific day when he spent hours combing through the burning ruins of the building. He had been so dazed and shell-shocked, it hadn’t even occurred to him to check there for survivors.

“By the time my guard got us both to a hospital, I was in pretty bad shape,” Wilson continued, looking at him. “I had a cracked skull and several broken bones. The doctors put me in a medically induced coma to deal with the swelling in my brain, and I didn’t regain consciousness until a few weeks ago.”

Lifting his hand, he touched his earlobes, which caused Brandon to realize the reason for Wilson's new haircut. They must have shaved his head in the hospital.

His hand trembled as he lifted it to Wilson's head. Brandon softly ran his fingers through Wilson's hair, sobbing in silence. He had almost died, after all—not that it made his absence for the past few weeks any more forgivable.

“Why didn’t you contact me at that point? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

How could he let her torture continue even a day longer than necessary?

He tilted his head to the side. “And then what?” he asked, his voice dangerously silky. “What would you have done, my love? Rushed to my side to be with me in the hospital? Or would you have told those incompetent authorities where I was, so they would in turn relate the message to my enemies, so they could get me while I was weak and helpless?”

Wilson knew how these things worked. He had seen a lot to know that the system couldn't be trusted. No one could. Telling the authorities would be handling himself to his death since he didn't know who was truly involved. His father, for one. But, in games like this, Edward snr would never stand alone. They all had to be caught and taken down.

Brandon inhaled sharply. “I wouldn’t have told anyone. . .”

“No?” He shot him a sardonic look. “You think I don’t know that you talked to them? That they now have a hint of what really happened ?”

“What was I supposed to do? They're the government, for crying out loud. And, if a billionaire and his Secretary go missing, they will investigate. It's not like this is something to do with the Mafia. It was your father that Killed Adriana and almost killed me too. Your own father!”

Brandon jumped to his feet, nearly colliding with Wilson. All of his anger suddenly surfaced. Furious, he gripped the edge of the table in his room and glared at Wilson. “I felt empty, lonely, and almost lost my sanity, only for you to reappear and blame me for looking for you? I guess I should have moved on with my life since you could handle yourself pretty well.”

Wilson stood to his feet, unfolding his tall, muscular body with athletic grace. “Yes, you probably should have,” he agreed softly, his gaze darkening as they stared at each other across the table. “You should’ve moved in and acted like I was never in your life, Brandon.”

Brandon ran his tongue over his dry lips. “Would that have helped?”

“No. I would’ve found you anywhere. Killed the i***t that dared to touch what's mine, and make sure you see nothing but my face and have nothing but my d**k in you. There are things you don't know about me, Brandon. One of them is I never let go of what's mine. You're mine to spank, f**k, love, cherish, adore, spoil, protect, care for and own,” he listed without taking a breath.

Brandon's stomach twisted with excitement and a hint of fear.

Wilson wasn't joking. Brandon could see it on his face. He would've come for him, and no one could’ve stopped him.

“Who are you?” Brandon breathed, staring at him incredulously.

“Why would your father want to hurt you or me? Why was the attack already covered up as a terrorist attack on a billionaire? Why is the FBI finding it difficult to find answers? Why did you risk your life to risk me? How were you able to carry out such a dangerous mission?”

He looked at him, his eyes strikingly darker in his darkly tanned face. “I am more than a businessman, Brandon. I just gave up that life, but it seems I will have to go back to it now to solve what happened," he said quietly. “And this is no business for the FBI as it would be implicating me. Moreover, let's say I have an experience or two when it comes to going to war and fighting in a war.”

Brandon's jaw dropped. “It doesn't make sense. You're Wilson Edward, the CEO of EW Group of companies, a horny-cold prick.”

“You still see me as that when we've been through a lot?” He laughed. “No. I'm more than that. That's the image the world gets to see. This is my past coming to bite me in the ass. I wouldn't pin it on my father yet. Not ruling out that he's a primary suspect. There might be more with him leading.”

“Are you saying that we're not out of danger? This isn't over?”

“It's far from over, love. I have to start by calling in quite a few favors to get this information erased. The more quiet everything is on my part, the easier it would be to achieve my plan.”

“I see,” Brandon said evenly. His head was spinning. The man he thought he knew was a handful. He had always been a handful but more and more, he knew and understood him less. It was almost more than he could process right then.

Wilson smiled, visibly enjoying Brandon's confusion. “Don’t over-think it, my love,” he advised, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You will know all about whom I truly am in due course.”

“Sure," Brandon agreed.

Turning away, he walked over to the small window and gazed outside. The sun was just beginning to come up, and the neighborhood was serene. Not much happened there anyway.

Brandon didn’t hear him moving, but suddenly, he was behind him, his large arms folding around Brandon, pressing him against his body. Brandon could smell the clean male scent of his skin, and some of the residual tension drained out of him.

“So where do we go from here?” Brandon asked, still staring at the rising sun. “Are you continuing as the CEO of EW?”

He was silent for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “I can’t. Not with all attention on me.” There was a tight note in his voice, and Brandon realized that it was a difficult decision for Wilson. To give up everything that he had worked hard for all these years and do what? Run?