Page 61 of Bishop

“He kept refusing to take your calls. I thought my intervention might help.”

“You didn’t think to ask first?” The bacon curdles in my gut, threatening to make a resurgence. “You need to quit eavesdropping.”

“I’ve gotta get insight somehow. You aren’t really a fountain of forthcoming information.”

My throat dries, the tightrope I’m treading growing thinner. I should’ve been more cautious about being overheard. I should’ve known he’d use the insight against me.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch him,” he mutters. “Or his wife. I didn’t even force my way inside his house. All I did was pretend I was a local searching for a lost dog to get my foot inside the door.”

I swallow, forcing myself not to show the panic that has its tight grip around my neck. I clean another plate and hand it over. “Then?”

“Then I kindly asked why he wouldn’t return your calls.”

I hold my breath, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. Fuck.

“He said he wasn’t going to give you any more money, Abri.”

I stare at the bubbles, my heart thudding.

“Is that what you were after?” he asks. “Because I already told you Matthew and Lorenzo will take care of your finances. All you have to do is reach out to them.”

I shake my head, playing along. My calls to the Senator weren’t about money, but I’ll take the diversion over the truth any day. “I don’t want help from either of them.”

“Then you should’ve asked me. I’ll give you anything you need until you get on your feet.”

My gaze snaps to his, tugged by an emotion I’m yet to name. Is this a trap? A strategic way to lead me into a false sense of security?

I don’t understand him. I can’t tell if he’s genuine.

“That’s a generous offer.” I return my attention to the water, scooping his knife and fork from the bottom of the sink. “But I’ll make do.”

“How much money do you need?”

I dump the cutlery on the drainer, keeping my gaze averted, needing shelter from his scrutiny. The worst part is that he didn’t ask what I need money for. Only how much.

It’s strange after having my father micromanage my expenses for so long. He was paranoid I’d run just like Matthew, even though there was no way I could.

“It was more of a safety net.” I finish the dishes and step back, wiping my wet hands on the hips of my chemise. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will. But that help won’t come from the senator. He made it clear he wants nothing to do with you.”

I meet Bishop’s eyes and fake a smile. “Then I’ll stop calling.”

My skin itches with the need to know what else was said between them. To learn all the details. But I press my lips shut. Clench my teeth. If he knew the worst of it he would’ve said something by now. Wouldn’t he?

Bishop dumps his drying towel on the counter and cocks a hip against the cupboards, laidback despite the growing curiosity in his stare. “Have you known him long?”

I walk for the table to grab the orange juice. “A few years.”

“Did you get close to him for your father’s sake?”

I straighten, hearing what he doesn’t say—did you extort him? Manipulate him?

“My relationship with the senator was mutually beneficial. He needed campaign money and we wanted a government official up our sleeve if any hardship were to arise.” I pad back to the fridge and place the juice inside.

“Do your brothers know you fucked him?”

My stomach bottoms. My grip on composure splatters at my feet.

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