Page 5 of Bishop

“Did I miss anything?” I place my clutch on the table, my dress perfectly positioned to exude a tease of cleavage without being blatant.

“Not at all.” He leans close, his expensive, old-school cologne clogging my lungs. “All freshened up?”

“Mm-hmm.” My eyes shift to the bathroom hall searching for tousled, dirty blond hair and a formidable frown while I grab my glass of champagne.

Bishop hasn’t followed.

Good.

As if I didn’t have enough reason to stab Remy and Salvatore after they decided to have a secret rendezvous with our estranged brother. But then they had the audacity to send my long-lost brother’s partner as my protection? The other half of the Butcher Boys of Baltimore?

All three of my siblings can go to hell. Remy, Salvatore, and Dante…or Matthew, as he now prefers to call himself.

I’ll fucking kill them.

Gordon’s hand disappears beneath the table, his palm finding my thigh. “These events are incredibly boring. Each speech more nauseating than the last.”

I watch the stage, my lips cocked in a gentle smile that usually tempts men to kiss it right off my face. “I agree.”

I’ve already won him over. My job is practically done.

But this task of mine is a fine art.

A delicate dance.

I was sent here for business. For strategy. To grease the wheels with the shipping magnate at my side so my family can use the distribution channels for whatever illegal product my parents decide to invest in next.

I take a sip of champagne and subtly lick the expensive liquid from my bottom lip, always drawing attention where it needs to be. Constantly tempting the man at my side.

At the moment, we’re merely strangers brought together through promises by a third party. Gordon is unsure if what he’s been offered is real, so it’s only natural he’s testing the waters. And I’m well aware what I have to give is best served to vultures in tiny morsels.

I need to leave him guessing. Questioning. Salivating.

I chance another casual glance around the room, making sure we’re not being watched by a bulky brute of a man who shouldn’t be anywhere near here.

“We should go to the hotel bar for a drink.” Gordon’s hand creeps higher, approaching my panties.

I slowly glide my gaze to his, pinning him with a stare. Impassive but authoritative. Staking control without chastising.

The ascent of his touch stops as he holds my attention, his apprehension showing in the tight tilt of his chin.

“Lead the way.” I take another sip of champagne then place the flute on the table and grab my clutch.

He stands, guiding my chair backward as I follow to my feet.

With a hand palming my hip, he directs me around tables filled with wealthy guests, not stopping until we’re a few feet from the massive double doors.

Two men walk toward us from the shadows, both in suits and exuding a security vibe.

For a second, I wonder if they were sent by my father. Maybe he didn’t leave me high and dry. But both men focus on Gordon.

“We’re going to the bar,” my handsy companion informs them.

Why Gordon needs protection is beyond me. Sure, he’s rich and dabbles in illegal territory, but I’ve been led to believe he’s an outlier. Someone who remains on the edge of danger, never creating enemies.

The taller blond strides to the doors, opening one side of the thick wood.

“Abri, this is Finch.” Gordon guides me forward, leading me into another hall. “And Boomer.” He indicates the shorter, dark-haired guard with a jerk of his chin.

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