He'd been doing some sort of paperwork, but the moment I sat, he stopped and looked at me. "Tell me everything about your brother, Brooke?"
My aim in life was to never talk about Blake again—talk about, see, or breathe the same air as Blake. Talking to Dylan about my life with him was especially shameful, but if I wanted him on my side when I tried to prove my innocence to the rest of Delta-Huntley, I had no other choice.
"It all started when our parents were killed," I said softly, shaking my head and laughing with humor. "Actually, it started before that. Blake was an evil little shit from birth, always hurting me when no one else was looking. Shoving me over, breaking my toys, breaking our parent’s shit and blaming me. It was like he hated me for existing, and any way he could make my life harder, he did. But once they died and there was no one to notice the bruises and the rest, he upped his game."
The pen in Dylan's hand cracked under the pressure he was applying to it, and even though his face was fairly calm, it was clear he didn't love what he was hearing. "He hurt you during the time we’ve been seeing each other?"
I nodded. "He has hurt me at least once a week for years. The sort of hurt you have to lie in bed and recover from."
Dylan slammed the pen down, and ink splattered across the white paper on his desk. "He’ll pay for that, Brooke. Don’t you fucking worry. But first... What do you know about his business ventures?"
His declaration just about rendered me unable to continue speaking, but I pushed through the thickness in my throat and told him the truth. "Not much at all. I was never allowed in the room when they discussed business, and outside of the property portfolio our parents left us, I have no idea what he's ventured into. But Blake is as dodgy as they come. If he's been working for your company, then you cannot trust what he's done. He's been lining his own pockets somehow."
Dylan pursed his lips, his anger just barely contained. "From what I've gathered in my last few minutes of research, we've been using your brother's trucking company to transport our goods from the docks, nothing that would give him access to the inner workings of Delta."
Blake had figured it out somehow. "The entire reason he probably went for that transport contract was so he'd have an in."
Dylan was about to snap something else, his eyebrows already drawn together as he let out an annoyed huff, but he was interrupted by the door slamming open. Ben strolled in, tray in hand, santa hat perched on his blond hair, and a smile on his face.
"Brooklyn!" he exclaimed, sauntering across to me. "Heard you were in need of some sustenance."
The tray was dropped before me, and it was literally groaning under the weight of all the food.
"Wow," I said with a laugh. "Did you grab one of everything."
He booped me on the nose, ignoring the scowl of death that had spread across Dylan's face. "Anything for you, sweetheart."
A gun appeared on the other side of the desk, and as Dylan spun it around his finger, the butt settled into his hand. Ben's joking smile died off, and he hauled ass out of the room without another word.
I blinked at the weapon. "What are you doing? You can't just pretend you're going to shoot someone for flirting with me."
He slammed his gun onto the desk. "Who said anything about pretending?”
I growled right back at him, getting to my feet and almost knocking the tray off the table. "You need to calm the fuck down, Delta. I’ve legit had enough of angry men in my life, and considering I'm about to be interrogated by the woman you're in love with, you should really give me a goddamn break."
The gun was forgotten as he got to his feet as well and leaned across the table until we were nearly face to face. "I am not in love with Riley. Not anymore. But I do care about her and respect the fuck out of her. She is fair and will give us all the information I currently don't possess. This is the best course of action."
I scoffed before sinking into the chair again, suddenly exhausted to the point of wanting to close my eyes and lie my head on