Page 18 of Royal Baby Maker

Returning to the main restaurant, I saw that Bishop was standing—hunched over Corriane who was still sitting, the two of them talking in coarse, low tones. I spotted the golden bag his mother had given me. It was sitting, forgotten, on the table. Picking it up, I stood across from Bishop, wondering what was going on.

Corriane saw me first. His glare was poison, his tone dismissive. “Is it because of her? Is that why you won't go?” He made a rude noise. “Send her away. She's your woman, she'll listen.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, so stunned it took me a second to register his comment.

The vein along Bishop's throat pulsed. “Stop it. Don't you dare.”

“What?” he laughed, pushing his chair back but not standing. “Are you scared of her?You?Bishop Callehurst, the man who could get any one of the women in this place to bend over for you in public if you just say the word?”

“Leave it, Corriane.”

“Pathetic. I'm nowhere near as rich as you, and do you think my fiancée would dare to talk back to me? Now, take me to one of the local strip clubs. You're supposed to show me a good time, like your father said. This farce is over with.”

Bishop had steadily grown more crimson. Sweat shone on his forehead, his body so still, so coiled, he could have jumped through the damn ceiling. He was furious.

It wasn't Bishop who exploded; it was me.

The wooden box in the bag was as good a weapon as any. Bunching up my muscles and wishing I'd taken baseball lessons, I threw it right into Corriane's chest. He caught it, grunting in pain, his face draining of color—I was sure he'd vomit and was disappointed when he didn't. “You asshole,” I hissed. “A strip club? You'reengaged!How disgusting could you be?” I was seething with anger for this woman I'd never met. How could he disrespect his fiancée so much?

Slowly, so slowly, Corriane lifted his head. His grimace twisted his handsome face into something monstrous. But that was nothing compared to his smile. “Oh ho,” he wheezed. Coughing, he gathered himself, speaking more steadily. “You chose a girl with fire in her, Bishop. Or... did you actually choose her? There's been no wedding, surely, or I'd have been invited.”

I knew Bishop was staring at me; I didn't look away from Corriane.

He kept speaking. “You're no one, Nellie Pinewood. Not Bishop's wife, not even his fiancée. Certainly not someone with any right to tell me how to treat my woman. I'd warn you to watch your back, because I could make your life with Bishop's family quite terrible, but I suspect that I won't have to bother. Hopefully his next girl knows her place.”

I was shaking violently.

Corriane went to stand, but the wooden box shifted in his lap. He grabbed it, squinting at the silver ribbon, seeing it all for the first time. “Thank your mother for me, Bishop. No, wait, I'll do the honor myself.” He didn't know what the gift was—he didn't care. He'd probably throw it in the trash once he was alone. He was simply driving home the fact that hewouldbe talking to Miss Callehurst... telling her what happened here tonight.

Bishop gripped the back of his own chair, toppling it over. The noise drew the attention of the last people in the restaurant; the two body guards jerked awake, having dozed off in their seats. “I knew you could be a cheat,” he growled, “But I didn't know you were such a shithead. How dare you talk about Nell like she'snothing?” His arm shot out; I thought he was going to hit the other man.

So did everyone else.

The guards tried to jump to their feet. Too slow, too wasted, they tripped on their own legs. And Corriane... I squirmed with delight at the fear in his face. Sensing danger, he pin-wheeled his arms, falling backwards and sprawling on the floor.

Bishop's hand didn't come close to him—it scooped mine up instead, pulling me away from the table. It thrilled me to have him hold me so securely.

Corriane was shouting, red faced as he tried to untangle his coat from the chair's legs. His guards bent down to lift him, and instead, they all fell back into a pile. Bishop's eyes flashed to mine, bright with a humor so contagious we started laughing.

I couldn't stop cracking up, not even as he rushed me from the Elephant Room. Definitely not in the fresh air of the busy Hollywood street. It wasn't until he tugged me around a corner, into the alcove of an alley where he captured me with a kiss, that I finally quit laughing.

The joy was still there. The fire, the light, the rush—all of it existed. It buzzed through my cells, reminding me I was alive and here with a man who burned for me, defended me, like no one ever had.

Is Gigi right? Are soulmates real?

I didn't believe in that stuff. I couldn't afford to.

Yet somehow, as Bishop's lips glided over mine—his palms searching my ribs for a secret door to my heart—I began to wonder if I could affordnotto believe it. What else could explain my growing infatuation? This desire to seek him out?

Careful,I told myself, fighting to think around the fog in my head.You've picked the wrong kind of men before.Well. One man, but once was enough when it came to heartbreak.Be cautious... be wary.A burst of shame struck me.Be realistic.

Everything Corriane had said in the restaurant came back to me. The bits about me being tossed aside, the part where he'd expected Bishop to take him to a strip club. Expected—like they'd done it before.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his hands as they moved down my legs. He'd undone my top button and some of my zipper before I could stop him. “Bishop, just wait. I need to know... I want to ask about what Corriane said.”

He winced, as if a shard of glass was moving through his guts. “I can't believe the balls he has.”

“But is it true.” I hesitated, tasting the moment—fearing the answer. “Am I going to get thrown aside, like this is a game for you?”A game I fell for so damn easily.

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