Page 43 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“Probably,” Andre allowed. “But this is our op, not his. We’re the ones calling the shots. He knew that when we brought him in.”

“Your brother would kill me, then,” said Bishop, turning my way. “You know that, right?”

“If my brother knew what the four of us did this week we’d be dead already,” I returned glibly. “But he’s not going to find out about any of this, is he?”

“Fuck no.”

“Right. So how the hell would he ever find out about this?”

Bishop stared at me for a long time, his expression constantly changing. I saw the boy I knew, my brother’s friend, the lacrosse star, the Marine. The full progression of our very complicated relationship, from blind hate to begrudging crush to full-blown lust over the lovers we’d become.

Eventually he let out a roar of aggravation and looked to the sky.

“You’rethe ones telling Kayden,” he announced, storming past us. “Not me.”

~ 26 ~

JOCELYN

“Tonight’s dinner service begins promptly at eight,” Andre went on. “Cocktails at six. The VIP’s won’t arrive until later this evening, if at all. But the guests will be here at—”

“What do you mean if at all?” I asked, struggling to keep up with him. “I thought—”

The manor was full of people now, judging by the voices I heard floating in — security, mostly. Luckily the place was enormous. Big enough that Andre could pull me into a side room, to answer my question.

“I mean the big meeting is tomorrow, not tonight,” he murmured. “That’s therealdinner party. It’s the only one that matters.”

He had me backed up against a smoothly-paneled wall, one arm extended, his palm flat. His expression was deadly serious.

“By VIP’s,” I whispered, “you mean the Founders?”

“Yes. But that’s the last time you use that word,” he warned. “And don’t ask too many questions, either, unless you’re asking one of us.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

“Remember, you’re Emily. You’ve been briefed on this weeks ago, and you know exactly what you’re doing. Even if you don’t.”

He winked, and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“You sure you still want to do this?”

I choked out a laugh. “Isn’t it a little late to be asking me that?”

“Very.”

“So why bother?”

Andre’s arm flexed menacingly. “Because all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll get you the hell off this island,” he replied coolly. “No matter what time of the day or night.”

“Yeah, right,” I dared. “You’ll sneak me around all this additional security?”

“No,” Andre avowed. “I’ll go straight through it.”

He pushed off, and we were back in the arteries and veins of the mansion again. Room by room, he pointed out what to expect, and when to expect it. Bishop walked by, flanked by two people I hadn’t seen before: a man and a woman. The way he completely ignored me, or even refused to look my way, was more than a little unnerving.

“This is the reception room,” Andre said as he led me into the largest chamber of the manor. We’d passed through it during our midnight antics a few times, but always in the dark. Daylight now illuminated it as a beautiful ballroom, with sprawling ceilings and a polished tile floor that must’ve cost a king’s ransom. “Drinks will be here. You’ll be serving platters of appetizers, and—”

“Bowman.”

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