Page 136 of Bishop's Queen

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bishop tugged at his earlobe, repositioning the earpiece until it moved into the least uncomfortable spot. It had just been him and Locke, but any moment now…

“Hey, I’m here,” Parker said from Titan HQ home base.

“Hey, buddy,” Locke said.

Bishop brought his wrist to his mouth. “Hear me okay?”

“Loud and clear,” Parker responded. “Just logged into their systems, and everything looks good. Video feed’s up. Let’s get this one in the can and call it a night.”

“Roger that,” Bishop mumbled as he followed Ella. They maneuvered around the shit ton of people backstage. There were teams of staff, clipboard-holding, headset-wearing directors, and random folks that made him uncomfortable. There were people wholookedimportant, surrounded by those who reminded them of that fact constantly. Bishop then passed someone who seemingly had once been important but had drowned that memory in a bottle and was currently being babysat by what he could only assume was the intern of someone important. Backstage was a clusterfuck.

Ella followed behind the clipboard man until they came to a stop on the side of the expansive stage. Throughout the entire labyrinth of hallways and people, she had opened and closed her fist as though she was trying to work out tension and anxiety, nervously twisting that bracelet.

“One minute,” their stage escort said amid the flurry of people spinning backstage.

The auditorium erupted in laughter, and the booming voices from the sound system surrounded them. How was Ella getting away with only a simple twist of her hands as an outlet for all of her nerves? Bishop had no idea.

If he was about to go onstage in front of hundreds of people? No way. And knowing that it was a live broadcast? Hell no. More power to her for being able to handle that kind of pressure. Not that he’d made it any easier for her.

Two women dressed in black strode over, one carrying an envelope. He had expected them, as per Tara’s very specific instructions. The envelope contained the name of the award winner that Ella would announce. Watching her take it all in stride was spectacular. Hell, she was spectacular. Beautiful, smart, and all he wanted to do was tell her that—yeah, he was starting to realize how big he’d fucked up and needed to get a fast grip on his goddamn issues.

“Thirty seconds,” the clipboard man said.

Ella closed her eyes and let her head drop back, elongating her neck in that daring dress that had been driving him insane since he walked into her hotel room. Between the dress and not knowing what the shit he was doing at an awards show, he itched at the unknown—and his chest needled.

He swept his gaze backstage, always on patrol. Nothing popped, but his skin prickled at an unknown he could sense. What was he missing?

Bishop brought his wrist to his mouth. “All good?”

“Eyes in the sky have nothing to report,” Parker said.

“Nothing front side,” Locke added.

Damn. Give him a grenade launcher, and he would feel at home. Put him in a monkey suit at a prime-time awards show, and he was lost. Lost and… his senses tingled.

What was it? Something…

“Ella,” Bishop whispered.

Startled, she abruptly turned to him. And maybe he should’ve talked to her way before she went on national television.

With wide eyes, her bottom lip dropped open, and she again started her new nervous habit of twisting her wrist. “Yes?”

Damn it.Her voice was too quiet. It shook. And since when did she fidget? He shouldn’t have said a word before she went onstage. What had he been thinking?

She fiddled with her bracelet rather than further acknowledge his existence. He couldn’t blame her.

“You’re going to do amazing. I’m really proud of you.” It was the only thing he could do. He had to save the moment. He had to do that for her.

Semi-smiling, maybe reassured, she refocused back on the stage as though that was what she needed to hear. She certainly didn’t need him asking,Are you okay?Do you feel weird?Does anything seem off?Because those were irresponsible things to say. And he couldn’t tack onI’m a fucking asshole; I’m mad but not done.

The man with the clipboard raised his hand and pointed his finger. “And you’re a go.” The music crescendoed as the lights swayed up then dropped down. The announcer boomed the names of Ella and her co-presenter to a huge round of applause.

Cold chills competed with his proud enthusiasm. She was stunning, graceful, and he would not have been able to handle the pressure of all those eyes and cameras. Even with her stalker and the stress between them, she was flawless.

That was the kind of person he wanted by his side, and as she walked onto the stage and into the homes of millions, he couldn’t have been angrier with himself.

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