Page 5 of Bishop's Queen

CHAPTER TWO

Jay Graff licked his lips as he leaned against the oak tree. There Ella was, inside an all-natural grocery store, oblivious and irritating. He could sense her distress through the storefront window as he sipped his coffee. She would benefit from a back rub, something she was missing out on since breaking up with him.

Her loss—shit. Jay ducked out of view. Ella didn’t take nearly as long as he’d expected. She grabbed whatever she’d purchased and spun toward the door.

Now his morning fun would really start. Ella would be a few yards behind him as he started his leisurely stroll. Toying with her made his blood race faster than the double shot he nursed.

It had been thirty-seven days since she claimed they werejustfriends. Ella had lied her ass off and said they didn’t have a spark, that she didn’t want to be his girlfriend, that they should only work together—didn’t he feel that way too?

Screw her.

He swallowed his frustration. Ella was a game, like chess, and involved strategy. One move meant a great deal. Every action had a consequence, and he needed patience.

Jay sipped out of the mug he’d purchased when they’d left Congo. Side by side in Virunga Forest, he and Ella had fought against gorilla poachers. They’d had a spark then, and they still had it now. He wouldforceher to remember that, so help him…

“Hey, Jay,” Ella called from behind him.

He smirked. Baited, Ella couldn’t stay away. This game was intense, exhilarating. Each time she crawled back to him, she fed his Ella-addiction.

Ironic how Ella, who railed against poachers and triumphed for the environment, would one day amount to nothing but a trophy on his wall. It served her right.

“Jay.” Ella touched his bicep as she pulled alongside him. “Hey.”

He paused, readying for the close-up inspection he’d spent hours imagining—bloodshot red eyes and dark circles.

She looked fine! Anger slammed into his heart. She showed no signs of being scared—no worry or sleepless nights.

What the hell?His fingers tightened on his coffee mug, and he consciously decided not to crush the plastic.

He bristled. “Good morning.”

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” She laughed light as air.

“Not a chance,” Jay snapped. “You’re doing well?”

“I can’t complain.”

“Really?” She couldn’t complain about the note on her car when she shouldn’t have been walking around DC alone at night?

Everything about her radiated with sunshine and positivity. He couldn’t stand it, and his mind was swinging. He missed her; he hated her. He wanted her back; he wished she would go away.

DC commuters in business suits brushed by as they rounded the corner to Ella’s publicist’s office, pausing at the crosswalk. Her airy skirt and tight tank stood out like a beacon of hope in the humdrum of traffic and pollution. The traffic light flashed, and Jay put his hand at the small of her back as they stepped into the crosswalk.

Ella shifted out of his touch. “Have you talked to Tara this morning?”

“No.” He ignored the urge to throw her into oncoming traffic. That flowy skirt would flare if he pushed her hard enough.

Once they were safe on the sidewalk, she pivoted. “Jay…”

Damn her and that voice, that sweetyou’re my friend, but don’t touch my backvoice.

“Old habits, Ella.” Which would be new habits again when she got over herself and fell back into their old routine.

How long would it take Ella to come back to her senses? Ella was his job, his obsession. She used to be his woman, and so much like a possession, it was simple.

She was his.

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