The Bishop Affair (Dominated by the Billionaire Brothers - Part Four) (5 page)

Seeing him heartbroken like
that made me ache deep inside and for a moment I questioned whether I was doing
the right thing. It took all my strength not to reach out to him. Instead, I
waved and began heading toward the subway, recognizing that I was walking away
from something that might never happen again.

I held my breath and got
lost in the crowd, forcing myself not to look back.

It was evening by the time I
reached the front door of my apartment. The ride took much longer than I
anticipated. Public transportation versus a private limo. Sometimes you can’t
appreciate things until you don’t have them. Like my own bed, which I was eager
to dive into and fall into a coma. Weekends were made for sleeping and I intended
to fulfill its purpose. Backing in through the door to the apartment and
letting my duffel drop with a thud, I turned and got spooked. Sam was standing
in the hallway, tapping her foot impatiently. One look at my face made her stop
immediately.

“It’s a long, long story,” I
said, rubbing my eyes.

“I’ll bribe you for it with
a delicious dinner.”

I groaned. “I really just
want to hide under my bed and never come out,” I complained as Sam hustled me
out of my sweatshirt and pulled one of her slinky, low-cut numbers on over my
camisole.

“You have too much crap
under your bed to make that a possibility.” She took her hair out of its bun
and shook it out. Predictably, it framed her face perfectly, like she’d spent
hours trying to make it tousled and flirty.

She pulled on a little black
dress and tucked her arm through mine. We grabbed our jackets, stepped into
some heels and marched straight back out the door.

We took a taxi to this new
sushi bar we’d been salivating over since I got to New York. I told her I
wasn’t in the mood but she assured me there were plenty of other sea life on
the menu besides shrimp. Sam paid the driver and we stepped onto the curb
before walking inside. It was chic upscale but the attire bordered on casual.
It didn’t take long for the host to seat us at a cozy corner table with a cute
japanese paper lantern overhead. The waiter brought glasses of water and handed
us menus. One look at the prices was enough to make feel dizzy, but Sam
insisted that dinner was on her—as long as I supplied all the juicy details.

At her prodding, I ordered
my favorite: the fabled rainbow roll, soft rice wrapped in seaweed and slices
of succulent fish. Alone, it cost almost the amount of money I’d budget for a
week’s groceries, but Sam waved away my worries.

“From the expression on your
face, you deserve some pampering,” she said. “I want to do this for you—I feel
like I haven’t been there for you enough this week with everything that’s been
going on.”

I thanked her as the waiter
brought out our bowls of steaming miso soup, the fragrant broth dotted with
seaweed and little cubes of tofu. The first spoonful made me feel immediately
better, especially when I chased it with a gulp of cold, crisp Sapporo beer.

“Tell me everything,” Sam
instructed, sipping carefully on her thimbleful of
sake
.

So I did. Reliving my
weekend was painful but cathartic. I spared no detail—from Trevor stealing my
panties to hooking up with Jordan for the first time in the limo. Eric
punctuated everything, a long dash of strange attraction and security amid the
high drama of the Bishops. Sam’s eyes widened when I told her about Jordan
buying me a dress—and our sexy tryst in the dressing room. Talking about it
made me blush, and the thought of it still turned me on. Maybe I would never be
able to get over my attraction to Jordan—just like Vanessa.

“Wow, I’m so jealous of you
right now. You’re living a fairy tale,” Sam said, her blue eyes sparkling with
interest.

“...And then, at the
Children’s Hope Ball, I caught Jordan and Vanessa Price kissing,” I said
finally, taking a deep breath and popping a piece of my rainbow roll into my
mouth that I’d been repeatedly dunking in a little cup of soy sauce for the
last twenty minutes.

She spluttered on the last
of her
sake
. “Oh my god. That’s horrible. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. “She
was the one who made a move on him.”

“But that doesn’t add up.
From what you told me, this guy’s huge and ripped.” Sam bared her teeth and
flexed her toned bicep. “No way that tiny girl could’ve forced him to do
anything.”

“I know, that’s what I
said!” I exhaled, placing my bottle on the table harder than I intended. I
thought I might have been reacting too emotionally at the time, but hearing Sam
reach the same conclusion gave me validation. “But big, dumb, goofy Jordan said
he ‘believes Vanessa’s a good person’ and gave her a chance.”

“Sounds fishy,” she said as
she popped a yellowtail sashimi in her mouth.

“Totally. It gets worse.
Vanessa already tried to make a move on him. When he left me during shopping to
go with her, he said she wanted to talk business but ended up confessing that
she was still in love with him.”

“No...”

“Yes.” I took a swig of my
beer, hoping the alcohol would wash away my frustration. I drank rarely, so I
was already feeling the effects.

“Are you sure this guy is
one of the CEO’s of Bishop Corp? Could you actually be dating some crafty
meathead imposter?” Sam whipped out her phone and began tapping it with her
thumbs.

“I may be gullible, but I’m
not sure how you can fake a private jet.”

Her eyes riveted to the
screen. “Wow. I know you said Jordan was hot. But this guy is
smokin
.
He’s like Hugh Jackman—if he played in the NFL.” She began fanning herself with
her hand.

“See him in person. Every
inch is like masculinity personified.” I scoffed at how my words were not
exaggeration.

“Mmhmm.” Sam hadn’t taken
her gaze off her phone. I doubted she heard me; she was too busy ogling
Jordan’s picture, which didn’t ease my concerns about him being with other
women. Suddenly she lifted her head. “Wait, what happened after you caught
them?”

I frowned. “Got the hell out
of there. Jordan ended up chasing me to the beach, where I told him that we
should just be friends.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I think
that’s good.”

“Good?” I repeated. “Aren’t
you going to tell me to get my butt back with the billionaire?”

“He’s a catch for sure, in
fact, probably catch of the century. But from what you told me, it sounds like
he still might have feelings for Vanessa, whose movies by the way we’re so not
watching anymore. You don’t want to be with someone who makes you worry.”

“He did say he wouldn’t see
other women until I told him I didn’t have feelings for him.”

She leaned forward, giving
me her undivided attention. “Do you believe him?”

“Yes...No. I don’t know.
We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

Sam sighed and reached over
the table for my hand. “In my humble opinion, Lori, you’re doing the right
thing. You’re starting a new stressful job with bosses that have questionable
behaviors. You caught Jordan doing the same thing Eric did. With all you have
going on, I’m surprised you haven’t had a meltdown. The last thing you need is
to get your heart broken again. Imagine if you caught him doing that a few
months from now. It’d be devastating.” She squeezed my hand tighter. “You’re a
strong girl. It takes guts to do what you did.”

“Thanks, Sam,” I said,
squeezing back, aware that I had left the puking part out of the story.

Sam softened her tone.
“Lori, I know we’ve had this discussion before, but maybe you should start
thinking about your career goals. Boys can be distractions.”

We talked about this a week
ago when I had dismissed her ambitions as being “not for me”, that I was just
happy to find a job at all. I felt I had paid my dues and all I wanted to do
was chill out and settle down. Finding a guy was more appealing than having
more responsibility or making more money. But after this past week, her advice
was making more sense.

She continued, “You’re not a
slacker, you worked just as hard as I did in college. But you’re out of the
school bubble now. There isn’t a set path; you have to pave your own. Nobody’s
going to hand you your future, and if they do, it’s probably not one you want.”

“I don’t really have any
goals.” I shrugged. “I’m struggling to stay above water in my current
position.”

“What about becoming an
English teacher?”

“That was a while ago, when
I was still with Eric. I tried applying to dozens of schools, but it’s so
competitive for only a few positions that rarely open up. I like the idea of
making a difference, having a positive impact on the world but that’s pretty
vague.”

“Well, you’re currently
employed at Bishop Corp, a big media company. There’s probably a lot of room to
grow, right?”

“Out of being a personal
assistant? I’m not sure what else I could do.”

“There’s tons of things!”
she exclaimed. “You’re an English major. I’m sure you could write for one of
the papers or magazines they own or even get into marketing. You could do
social media...copywriting...”

I rubbed my chin, musing
over her suggestions. Without a doubt, she was right that boys could be a
distraction. Looking back at everything I invested into my relationship with
Eric and us being broken up now—it all seemed kind of a waste. I could imagine
being better off putting more effort into having a challenging and fulfilling
career. At least if you part ways with a company, you could put it on your
résumé as a positive experience. Failed relationships were more like black
marks.

“Those sound like
interesting options,” I replied. “Any advice on how I get started?” Seeing how
well Sam was doing in her career so far was inspiring.

“You’re taking me seriously
now.” She grinned. “You can start off with taking initiative and asking for
more responsibility. Usually your boss would be glad if you can take extra work
off his/her plate. If your boss likes you and thinks you can handle the load,
you might get a promotion. It’s simple advice, but most fresh-out-of-college
employees don’t know it. Oh, and always have a positive attitude.”

“What would I ever do
without you Sam?”

“Mope around the apartment
like a bum.”

I pinched her arm teasingly
and she jerked it back, giggling.

“Great. Now that we have
that settled...who is
this
?” She held her phone up to me.

“Oh god. That’s Trevor.
Jordan’s brother.” It was a candid picture of the two of them shirtless at a
beach, their tanned sculpted torsos exposed in their full glory, Trevor with a
wicked smile, spinning a volleyball in one hand and Jordan laughing next to him
mid-stride. It was the first time I’d seen them together. They looked young and
carefree; the image of a genuinely happy Trevor was jarring. The paparazzi must
have taken it a few years back.

“Jesus. If Jordan is smokin,
this guy is radioactive. How do you get any work done around these two?”

I groaned. “You don’t know
how hard it is for me.”

“I hate you.” She slapped my
hand playfully. “You wanna trade jobs? I’ve got good benefits. Pretty please?”

My smiled widened. “As long
as you don’t mind getting spanked or having your panties stolen when you make a
mistake.”

“If only. I’d
pay
to
have a hunk like him do that to me.”

We both got a good laugh.
Sam always knew how to make me feel better.

“I’m sure Anthony would
approve,” I jabbed, taking the final bite of my meal.

She scrunched her nose at
the bar area of the restaurant. “Oh Anthony? Yeah, I’m sure he’d be upset.”