Page 19 of Secret Sin

“Drink up,” she called. “And let’s hit the dance floor!”

We clinked glasses, and the alcohol seemed to filter straight into my bloodstream. We’d already had margaritas with dinner and tequila shots when we first arrived at the club. I grinned at the warm buzz heating my skin. “Let’s do this!” It was definitely time to dance.

A half hour later, Noemi and I retreated to the table while Shae continued to dance. The woman was a powerhouse, not even breaking a sweat.

“This is exactly what I needed,” I told my cousin, grateful she’d indulged my last-minute request to go out. “And Shae is really great. I’m glad Conner sent her along even though it was unnecessary.” I wasn’t crazy about men always thinking we needed chaperones. What really needed to happen was for men to learn to behave like fucking civilized human beings, then we wouldn’t be at risk. Like that would ever happen. The only way to change the dynamic was to be a badass like Shae. I peered back at her again in the crowd.

“And with her here, we didn’t even need our fake IDs,” Noemi chimed in, raising her glass.

“Hell yeah!” I clinked my glass with hers, but just as I started to drink, my eyes collided with a murderous stare across the room. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Bishop speared me through with indignant accusation. His black-on-black suit was almost as dark as the noxious aura surrounding him. He was a pressurized storm of righteous fury, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life. The intensity of chiseled features and calculated power. He was an angry god come to earth with only one thing on his mind. Me.

Breathing suddenly felt impossible. Had he known I was here? Could this have been a coincidence? Somehow, I doubted it. Then how had this happened? Had he followed me? My heart thundered in my ears louder than the bass pulsing from the speakers.

Noemi’s gaze followed mine. She quickly pushed for an explanation, but I didn’t have the capacity. I needed to get away like a rabbit from the hungry fox.

Grabbing her hand, I led us onto the dance floor, where Shae was already grinding to a Lady Gaga remix that had spiked the energy in the room. Our small circle moving in motion with the rest of the crowd gave me the buffer I needed. I was one tiny minnow in a giant school, and together with the alcohol, it allowed me to pretend none of this was happening. The perfect distraction. Well, maybe not so perfect.

I could still feel Bishop’s eyes on me even though it had to be impossible. I was too buried in the crowd. Yet there it was. The possessive touch of his stare. As if we were all alone and I was dancing just for him.

When Shae abandoned our circle and a solid body slid in behind me, I didn’t protest. It wasn’t Bishop. I knew that just as well as I knew that Bishop would be pissed when he saw me pressed against another man. Good. Let him feel a fraction of the helplessness I’d felt since he barreled into my world, stealing away my plans and making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

I rolled my hips and lifted my hands to rest behind me around the back of his neck. The man smelled all wrong, but his hand splayed on my middle held me confidently against him, and he moved like a dream. A hazy dream that abruptly burst when I was yanked from the dance floor by a tight grip shackling my wrist.

“Noemi, call your husband to come get you. We’re leaving,” Bishop barked at my cousin, who clambered next to me, captured in his other hand. He let out a sharp, short whistle that instantly had Shae’s attention. He motioned to Noemi, silently instructing Shae to watch over her.

I never even got to say a word to my cousin before being dragged from the club. I didn’t fight him because I didn’t want to make more of a scene than he already had. Instead, I waited until we’d reached the sidewalk out front to yank free of his bruising grip.

“What are you doing here, Bishop?” I held my arms wide with disbelief, drawing more than one curious stare. “How did you know where I was?” A swell of emotions collided in my chest—relief at seeing him again after a week apart and bristling outrage at the possibility that he’d followed me.

Rather than rising to the challenge of my implied accusation, Bishop almost seemed to grow calmer, but not in a good way. Carefree Bishop was now lightyears away. The man before me, outfitted in an impeccably tailored dark suit with perfectly styled wavy hair, was brutally intense, and every ounce of that seething ferocity was aimed at me.

“I thought we talked about this, Pippa.”

“About you owning me?” I shot back, alcohol inhibiting my self-preservation instincts.

“Aboutyou. Andme. About who has a right to touch you.” His baritone voice grated against my skin with hostile possession, yet every muscle in his body was clenched with practiced restraint. He was a master of self-control in a way I hadn’t expected.

“I was having a girls’ night out, Bishop. Not hooking up.”

“What you were doing on that dance floor had nothing to do with a girls’ night and everything to do with me. You were sending a message, and I received it loud and clear.” He was right. I had lashed out in an admittedly passive-aggressive manner and was feeling more and more embarrassed about it by the second.

I opened my mouth to start a subtle retreat but didn’t get the chance. A large man stepped partially in front of me, angling himself between Bishop and me.

“Hey, man. Sounds like the girl isn’t interested,” the man slurred. I stepped out from behind him, knowing this wouldn’t help matters, and ended up with his arm draped around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, sugar. I got you.”

I nearly gagged at his whiskey-soaked breath. This was bad on so many levels. If my inner alarm bells hadn’t sounded before, they certainly did now.

“That’s okay,” I tried to assure him. “He’s a friend. You can go.” I tried to extract myself from his hold, but he pulled me in tighter.

“Nah, you shouldn’t have to put up with that shit,” the man slurred. “Come back inside, and I’ll buy you a drink.” He grinned down at me and turned us back toward the front door, his hand drifting down toward my ass.

“Take your fucking hands off her before you get yourself hurt.” Bishop’s warning sliced through the night air with lethal calm.

The man twisted back around, finally releasing me. “That some kind of threat? Because I’m not afraid of a skinny cunt like you.” He had several inches on Bishop and at least fifty pounds. It wasn’t muscle, but still enough of a size difference to send my heart clambering into my throat.

Before I could say a word to defuse the situation, Bishop’s fists shot forward in two vicious strikes that sent the man lifeless to the ground. He never even had a chance.

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