Page 103 of Resisting the Billionaire

Mackenzie

Ihold my phone up to my ear, the automated voice once again telling methe number you have dialed has been disconnected.

I stuff it back into my purse, my hand finding its way to rest over my stomach, keeping the nausea contained.

Where the hell is he? The last I saw Gabriel was leaving that storage closet. And after that - nothing. He’d disappeared from the wedding.

Not that I blame him. He did jilt the bride after all.

The guests had plenty to speculate, though.

It’d been a media stunt planned from the beginning.

The whole to-do was to boost Bishop Industries’ stock.

How could Gabriel’s own brother go behind his back like that?

How romantic that Archer confessed his love.

But what no one was saying was where Gabriel ran off to. I’m assuming he spoke with his dad at some point. I’m also assuming Mr. Bishop cut him off like he promised - including his phone.

That’s the reasonable explanation for why I can’t get in touch with him. But despite that, visions of Gabriel gagged and stuffed in a car trunk still run through my head. Some mob boss sinking him to the bottom of the Hudson, a hit mantaking careof him. Who knows what his dad’s capable of?

It wasn’t an option to leave the wedding early. This was the most important job of my career. And there was no way I was asking Mr. Bishop where his son was, especially not with that cold fire burning in his eyes during the whole reception. Serena wouldn’t have known, and I didn’t know his brothers well enough to ask…

I unlock my building door, my feet killing me in these heels as I trudge up the seven flights, but all soreness leaves my body as I spy the man camped out in front of my door, two large suitcases beside him.

My hand reaches up to my mouth to contain a sob as I rush forward, and he scrambles to his feet to catch me in time.

“I didn’t know what happened to you,” I choke out, taking in my first deep breath in hours, the cotton fibers of his dress shirt soft against my cheek.

He runs warm hands over my back, soothing me until the tightness in my shoulders melts away.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “Everyone was staring at me and Dad said I needed to be out of my apartment tonight, so I figured I might as well leave. Then thirty minutes into packing at home, two of his goons show up and kick me out. He basically repossessed everything. Including my phone.”

Wow. Harold Bishop’s more hardcore than I realized.

He motions to the suitcases next to him. “I’m lucky I got these two downstairs and out of sight before the muscle arrived.”

I pull myself out of his arms to briefly study him. Deep grooves bracket his mouth, face paler than usual. As much as I know he wanted this, he’s still feeling the effects of such drastic change.

“Come inside.” I open the door and lead him to the couch, stripping off his tuxedo jacket and settling in behind him to massage his shoulders.

He lets out a groan, leaning forward to give me better access. “I should be doing this for you. You’re the one who actually worked all day. I just made a jackass of myself in front of everyone.”

I focus on kneading the muscles of his upper back, releasing the knots. “I overheard a few conversations tonight with ladies convinced you were the wronged one. That your brother and fiancee had been going behind your back this whole time.”

He sighs heavily, dropping his head down. “I’ll have to set the record straight tomorrow. I don’t want anyone thinking they’re at fault.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “I’m the one that got us all in this mess.”

“Hey.” I scoot out from behind him to kneel next to him on the couch. “I’m right there with you, okay?”

He nods, gaze dropping to my lips briefly before looking away, his uncharacteristic silence setting my heart to pound. Is he having second thoughts?

“Nothing is coming between us again.”

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