Page 146 of Bishop

I sigh, dragging out the dreary breath as I scoot to the end of the bench to make room for him. “Only if you sit. If I’m going to be responsible for killing you I want the history books to know it was done in spectacularly violent fashion and not because you dropped dead from preexisting injuries.”

“She’s right.” Layla stands and winks at me. “If she’s going to do it, she needs to do it with flair.”

“And here I was thinking you two were having a companionable conversation about motherhood.” He awkwardly lowers to the bench. “Just remember, mia dea, you can’t gain my riches unless I’m killed after we’re married. So you’d best get started on those wedding plans.”

My brows shoot skyward as Layla chuckles.

“I’ll get right on it.” She starts toward the house. “But first, I’m going to make myself another coffee. I’ll be inside if either of you need me.”

“You’re getting married?” I ask once she’s out of earshot.

“If you don’t end me first.” Dark brown eyes meet mine, my brother’s stare solemn. “The engagement is new. Bishop doesn’t even know yet.”

I lower my attention to the lawn, trying to imagine what the marriage of a butcher and a mafia princess might look like. If it would be happy or volatile. Easy or riddled with complications destined to tear them apart. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

We fall quiet as Layla enters the house, Remy joining Lorenzo and Bishop on the porch while Salvatore continues to mutter into his cell.

“So…” Matthew drawls. “You and Bishop…”

I wait for the conclusion to his sentence that doesn’t come, then finally ask, “What about it?”

“You’re going to make me say it?”

“Say what?” I frown. “I have no idea where this conversation is headed.”

“You two have apparently been having a pants-off dance-off,” he grumbles. “To say I’m surprised is an understatement.”

“We released a little steam. It’s no big deal.”

“Maybe not to you, but he sure has his panties in a twist over something. My guess is that he’s caught feelings that are causing some sort of allergic reaction.”

My traitorous heart skips a beat before I can scoff it away. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me, so do I. Yet that’s the only answer I can determine for his bad attitude. I’ve known him a long time and not once have I seen him this protective. Not even over Lorenzo. And our uncle is the only parental figure he knows.”

My cell vibrates in my pocket, bringing cold dread along with it.

It has to be my mother. What outlandish demand does she have for me this time?

I push to my feet, holding up a finger to Matthew as I grab the device and check the screen.

Aaron Geppet.

The dread falters. A queasy sense of uncertainty takes its place.

“Who is it?” Matthew asks.

I open my mouth to blurt the truth then pause, questioning the pros of transparency. “A sales exec from Alleya. Give me a few minutes.” I backtrack from him, from the house, from Bishop, Lorenzo, and Remy staring at me from the porch, and Salvatore, who continues to pace the lawn. I don’t answer the vibration until I’m close to the far edge of the yard. “Hello?”

“Hey, baby girl. I thought I should call you back and see how you’re doing after your mom dropped that bombshell.”

My spine turns to dry pasta. Straight. Hard. Brittle.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

Is he fishing for Adena? Trying to find out if I’ll go ahead with the kill order? “I’m a little at odds, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

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