Page 127 of Bishop

“You done?” I shove my hands into my pockets.

“I’m a woman, Bishop.” She throws another petal to the dirt. “Holding a grudge is a birthright. Get used to it.”

Her facade isn’t as perfect as it was days ago at the gala. Cracks form in the slump of her shoulders. The lack of energy in her posture.

“I need you to listen.” I move closer, stopping a foot away to peer down at her. “When you get back to the house, Lorenzo is going to tell you he can facilitate a call between you and your mother.”

Her hand pauses in the middle of picking another petal.

“I know it sounds like good news.” I touch her sneaker with my shoe, trying to test her anger only to have her shift her feet away. “But if Adena is as temperamental as you say she is, you have to think before you act.”

“I always think before I act,” she snips.

“Well, when you do, I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion I did—that your mom isn’t going to appreciate finding out her brother is helping you. I want you to give me more time to work out a better option.”

“Thanks for the concern.” She discards the flower to the dirt and pushes to her feet. “But I can figure out the best way to approach my mother on my own. I don’t need your help.”

“You do need it, belladonna. And I’d stake my life that you appreciate it, too.”

“Appreciated. Past tense. That was when I was ignorant to the underhanded shit you were doing behind my back.”

“You’re smart, Abri. You knew it was coming.”

“Yeah, I knew. I didn’t foresee that crap you pulled in the bedroom, though.” She stands tall in front of me, her eyes full of fire. “After all the protests you made, how could you kiss me, let alone like that?”

“How did you want me to do it?”

“You don’t refuse to kiss a woman while giving her more orgasms than birthdays then finally lay one on her just to shut her up.” She glares. “And I bet you thought you were better than every other piece of shit who’s touched me.”

My jaw aches with the pressure of my clenched teeth. I inch closer. “I’ll ask again, how did you want me to kiss you?”

She raises her chin, her lips pressed in a tight line, those eyes narrowing to spiteful slits.

She wants a replay.

Fuck. I want it too. To get another taste of her spite. To drown in her venom.

“How, belladonna?”

Her jaw ticks.

Say it. Let down your fucking guard.

“I wish you never kissed me at all.” She sidesteps, deliberately bumping my shoulder as she turns away. “I’m done with you, Bishop.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know I’m leaving in the morning.”

She stops in her tracks.

Is she happy? Angry? Does she think I’m taking the first opportunity to leave her in my rearview?

“It was under Lorenzo’s order,” I add. “But given what’s transpired today, I thought you’d want me on the first plane out of here.”

Her chin remains defiantly high, her shoulders straight. “Why would he order you to leave?”

“He thinks something is going on between us.”

“And why would he think that.” She swings around to face me. “Do you usually treat women like garbage? Is that your tell?”

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