Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Read online

  “I understand.”

  We head out into the warm sunshine, Petey sticking to Serena’s side once she tells him to heel.

  “So you actually help out in the shelter? I thought you were on the board.”

  “Oh, I am. But paperwork is my least favorite part. I’d rather be downstairs with the animals any day.”

  Why did I think she was just a figurehead? “Why not hire someone to handle that stuff then?”

  “Wendy does so much already. She’s our executive director. But we’re almost all volunteer based. We can’t afford anyone else.” She chuckles, but there’s little humor in it. “Actually, we can’t afford anything anymore. Dad cut all the funding.”

  I’m careful not to show a reaction after our talk last night. She hadn’t been pleased when I questioned her father’s finances. But this is one more thing to feed that kernel of suspicion in my gut.

  “Everything is budgeted through June - that’s the end of our fiscal year - but after that, I need to figure out something else. Grants or donations, I guess.”

  I glance over, her mouth set in a frown that tugs at my chest for some reason.

  “Bishop Industries donates to a number of charities. I’ll add your shelter to the list.”

  “No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “I’m offering.”

  Her lips tip up at the corners, but she keeps her gaze focused ahead. “Thank you. But only a partial amount. We need to be more self-sustaining so this issue doesn’t happen again. I actually went to talk to Mackenzie about it yesterday and-”

  She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, Petey tugging at the leash.

  “What is it?”

  “I forgot to mention I saw Gabriel there.”

  I can’t keep my face neutral this time as my brows lift in surprise. “Mackenzie was the wedding planner, right?”

  She nods, stepping to the side so someone can pass her.

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He said he works there now.”

  Excuse me? “Gabriel’s planning weddings?”

  “Well, Mackenzie plans other events too.”

  My brain still can’t catch up with the fact he’s working on weddings when his was such a disaster. “That’s not the point. He- What the hell is he thinking?”

  “Where else is he supposed to work?”

  Her question gives me pause. My brother has a degree, true, but zero experience planning anything. “I don’t know, but… event planning?”

  She shrugs. “I guess he’s lucky Mackenzie offered him a job.”

  Yeah, lucky indeed. What, did he call her up and beg her or something? Why would she even hire someone with no experience?

  We continue down the street, Petey’s tail wagging happily, tongue sticking out of his mouth, as my mind works through the situation.

  Serena’s comment earlier this week that she felt like a third wheel when they were planning the wedding.

  Gabriel placing his hand on Mackenzie’s lower back as they exited the rehearsal dinner.

  Connor revealing that Gabriel fell in love with someone over the last month. Someone there’d be consequences for if people found out.

  I suck in a breath, one potential answer hitting me square in the chest.

  Chapter Ten

  Archer

  Could it- No, he wouldn’t do that. He isn’t stupid enough.

  We didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.

  Damn it. How does Gabriel always end up putting me in the most awkward positions? If Dad finds out about this-

  No, no. I don’t know anything for sure. There’s no concrete evidence. Even Serena didn’t sound like she suspected something.

  “So, tell me about your shelter.” Anything to deflect from the very real possibility that my brother fell in love with his wedding planner.

  I glance over as her eyes light up, the most animated I’ve seen her as she tells me about the dogs they find homes for, the volunteers that give their time and effort into running the place, how she wishes they had more room, more money, so they wouldn’t have to turn some animals away when they’re at capacity.

  “I’d like to expand our fostering program, but I need more families to do that. The ones I do have will usually take puppies because they’re so cute, but it’s the older dogs I worry for. Once they’re over five, it’s harder to get people interested.”

  I don’t have much to add to the conversation, but there’s something about her voice that’s nice to listen to. Not just the sweet cadence, but the passion behind her words. When was the last time I felt truly passionate about my work?

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m dedicated to Bishop Industries and my position there, but we don’t actually do anything I care about. I’m not particularly attached to ThousandWords, our biggest holding, or the handful of other technology companies we own. The only other major assets we have in our portfolio are two prime pieces of real estate - the residential Bishop Plaza and the commercial Bishop Tower - but I don’t take particular pride in either. I live in one and work in the other, but I could do those things anywhere.

  Why does this even matter? Just because Serena has found something she enjoys doing doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with my life.

  “We still have to take a picture,” I remind her as we turn a corner to loop back around to the shelter.

  “Right.”

  She switches Petey’s leash to her other hand to grab her phone out of her pocket, which the dog uses as an opportunity to dart between her legs, nearly tripping her in the process.

  I instinctively catch her before she face plants on the sidewalk, and bring her back up, willing my heart to slow down. She could have broken a bone, scraped her face up, chipped a tooth, who knows what if I hadn’t been here.

  “Sit,” I command Petey in a firm voice, his butt instantly hitting the pavement, and unwrap the leash from where it’s tangled around her. “Are you all right? You hurt?” I run my palms down her arms, needing to check for myself she’s okay. She was so close to seriously hurting herself.

  “I’m fine. Embarrassed more than anything else.”

  I let go of her, keeping a tight hold on the leash.

  She gives me a sheepish smile. “I can still walk him.”

  “I’ll do it.” I’m not letting this dog trip her up again.

  She holds up the phone she finally managed to extract from her pocket. “Then let me get a picture of the two of you.” I swear Petey sits up straighter, his tongue lolling out goofily. “And now one of all of us.”

  She steps into my side, my free hand automatically going around her waist, her head fitting into the curve of my neck easily. When did this start to feel so natural?

  The dog looks up at her as she idly scratches his ears, like she’s the answer to the universe, complete trust in his soulful eyes. You know, she never scolded him for tripping her, never got mad. She only showed him affection, gave him another chance. For a shelter dog, has he had many second chances?

  Does anybody really?

  I make a mental note to bring up our charitable donations to Dad at our next meeting and watch as she scrolls through the photos she just took.

  “What about this one?” She leans in again, loose tendrils of her hair blowing against me, her perfume unidentifiable today among the other outside smells, and it takes me a minute to focus on the screen.

  “It looks perfect.” A happy family. The way things were growing up before Mom-

  My hand finds hers, gripping it tightly, surprising both of us. But rather than retreat, she grips it back, a smile spreading across her face as we continue walking, Petey staying dutifully by my side.

  I glance ahead, spotting two women pointing in our direction, and the reason for Serena’s behavior washes over me. Of course. I keep forgetting it’s not just enough to go out with her, but to sell it to everyone too. How does she stay in character like that so easily?

  When we’re nearly back to the shelter
, we pause by a tree for Petey to take a leak, a jewelry shop window in front of us. Serena walks over to peer inside, her face wistful as she gazes at the rings on display.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing. They’re just beautiful is all.”

  I join her after Petey’s finished, her eye on an intricately set diamond front and center nestled in velvet. “I thought you didn’t want a ring.”

  “What?”

  “Gabriel said you just wanted a band.”

  She dips her chin down. “Well, if you wanted to get me one, that’d be different.”

  She wants a ring from me, but not Gabriel? What does that mean?

  I’m silent, almost feeling like I’m walking into a trap. If I tell her I don’t understand, I’ll somehow disappoint her, but if I say I’ll buy her one, I’m reading too much into things.

  Petey tugs at the leash, solving my dilemma for me, and noses at her hand.

  “Okay, boy.” She bends down, giving his rump a quick pat. “Let’s get you back.”

  I slow as we approach the front doors of the shelter, no wish for Wendy to interrogate me again, though I can’t even prove she did that to begin with.

  “I’ll see you tonight?”

  She takes the leash from me, wrapping it around her hand. “Yeah, I’ll be done here in a few hours.”

  Good. That gives me plenty of time for my next stop.

  Through the glass doors, Wendy’s gaze meets mine, and I’m suddenly hyper aware of our surroundings. The people pushing by us on the sidewalk, cars driving past on the street, everyone that potentially sees us. The world is our stage and we’re the actors.

  I cup Serena’s chin gently, tipping her face up to give her a soft goodbye kiss. And despite needing to do it for appearance’s sake, that doesn’t explain why I linger over the sweetness of her lips. Why the urge to explore her mouth further eats at me. Why I almost wish we were alone, no one to witness this moment that should be private.

  I step back, nearly tripping over the damn dog myself, and right myself before she can say anything. “Send me that picture and I’ll forward it to Angelina.”

  She nods, my mind already blocking out that kiss and focusing on the next task as I walk the short distance from the shelter to the flower shop Google tells me Mackenzie’s office is located in.

  And lo and behold, who should I see through the window but my brother, sitting at a desk doing something on a computer. I enter the shop and bypass the woman at the register, heading straight toward the enclosed office at the other end, rapping briskly on the door.

  He glances up, his face slightly paling as he motions for me to come in.

  I take a seat in a paisley print club chair in front of him, unsure where to even start.

  “Serena told you?” he finally asks.

  “Not the whole story. But I’m pretty sure I figured out why Mackenzie offered you a job to begin with. And it’s not because you’ve always dreamed of planning weddings.”

  He pales further, standing swiftly, but I hold a hand up to stop him. “I won’t tell anyone. Not Connor. Not Serena. And especially not Dad.”

  He returns to his seat, blowing out a long breath. “I’m not confirming anything.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. You’ve got a lot at stake.”

  He nods cautiously.

  “But seriously, you don’t think this is going to raise any suspicions?”

  “I’m allowed to work here.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the defiant boy I remember. “I have to earn a living somehow.”

  “I just don’t want either of you on his radar. Be careful.”

  His arms drop. “We are. And I’m… I’m good at this, okay?”

  “I wasn’t saying you weren’t.”

  “I know, but it’s like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I have a purpose, like you and Connor do.”

  A purpose. Is that what he thinks I have?

  “I look forward to it every day,” he continues. “There’s something different all the time. I’m challenged. And appreciated. I had no idea what any of this was like before.”

  Am I those things too? I can’t tell anymore. “I’m happy for you then.”

  Fulfillment. First with Serena, now with Gabriel. I’ve never questioned it, but am I fulfilled in the same way?

  “Do you want to get lunch?” I ask, remembering the other part of Angelina’s email. “If we’re seen together…”

  “It’ll show there are no hard feelings,” he finishes. “Yeah, I got it. But, uh, not one of your fancy restaurants.” He smirks. “I can’t afford it.”

  And I can’t buy him lunch in case Dad finds out. “This is so ridiculous.”

  “You’re telling me. I’m living it.” He scoots his chair away from the desk. “Come on. There’s a cafe about a block up from here someone might recognize us at.”

  Is that what our relationship has been reduced to? For appearance’s sake only, like me and Serena? Even that seems to have become… something else.

  I’m just not sure what, though.

  The clock on the lower right hand corner of my screen flips over to five after ten, my brain anywhere but where it needs to be. The yearly budget analysis is coming up, not to mention my meeting with Accounting tomorrow I should prepare for.

  Instead, I’m checking the door of my home office every few minutes, waiting for Serena to come in. What will she wear tonight? Another nightgown so sheer I swear I could see her nipples through it? Or lingerie underneath a sinfully short robe?

  No, no. It doesn’t matter what she wears. Doesn’t matter if she comes in at all. I’m in here to work.

  My eyes flick to the time. Only a minute has passed. Damn.

  How many years have I been working in here fine without her showing up? And now I can’t concentrate because she’s come in and rubbed my shoulders a few times?

  Pathetic.

  I squint at the screen, but my mind just isn’t there. I might as well accept I won’t get anything done until this situation is resolved.

  I shut my laptop and deliberate for another minute on what to do. I mean, it’s only logical to check on her. She’s made a habit the past few nights of checking in on me. There could be something wrong if she hasn’t come in by now.

  I step into the hallway, the kitchen and living room dark, but her bedroom door is open a crack, and as I get closer, it sounds like she’s watching some kind of sitcom from the canned audience laughter.

  I nudge the door the tiniest bit, discovering Serena lounging on her bed, foot propped on a pillow and a giant bowl of popcorn on her lap. Her eyes are closed, head thrown back in laughter, the image of her absolutely… gorgeous.

  There’s no other word for it. How alive she looks, raucously laughing at whatever’s happening on the screen, so different from the other times I’ve seen her. Her hair up in a clip, not a stitch of makeup on, flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt gracing her form.

  I clear my throat and her gaze immediately shifts over to me, her eyes widening. We’re both silent for a beat and then she shrieks, popcorn flying in the air, somehow losing her balance in the process, and nearly tumbles off the bed.

  She rights herself before I can get to her, placing her hand on her chest as she breathes in and out heavily. “Oh my God, you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have knocked-”

  “No, it’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting you.” She readjusts herself, setting her foot atop the pillow at the end once more.

  “You didn’t stop by tonight. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  She bites her lip, failing to contain a smile. “Do you like it when I come to your office?”

  “I, uh…” I can’t admit to her how much I was looking forward to her nightwear, how my shoulders seemed to preemptively ache waiting for her to massage them, how parched my throat was expecting a glass of whiskey to soothe it. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “I’ve only done
it twice,” she smiles. Really? Only twice? It seems a lot longer than that. “But I’ll make sure to stop by tomorrow night.”

  I nod, ignoring the burst of anticipation that races through me, instead motioning to her foot. “Is everything okay?”

  She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re not going to believe it, but Petey tripped me again. I promise I’m not normally this clumsy.”

  “That dog’s a menace.”

  “He’s a sweetheart. And I didn’t even realize my ankle was hurting until I was standing at the stove making this popcorn.” She scoops the pieces that had fallen out of the bowl back in, seemingly unconcerned.

  “Do you need to go to the doctor? I can call one in-”

  “Archer, I’m fine. I took some Tylenol and should be good in the morning. It’s only a little sore. I’m just giving myself permission to relax and veg out in front of some mindless TV in the meantime.”

  I turn toward the screen. “What are you watching?” There’s an unshaven messy looking guy, another with ridiculously parted big hair, and a normal woman in a suit, all in some kind of office environment.

  “The IT Crowd.” Her eyes widen at my look of incomprehension. “You’ve never heard of it?”

  “No.” Was I supposed to?

  “Here.” She scoots over and pats the spot next to her on the bed. “Watch an episode with me.”

  No, I still have work to do. And I shouldn’t be laying in her bed with her. And I might accidentally jostle her ankle.

  And yet, I find myself sitting down, slowly easing into the plush pillows she has propped behind her, listening to her explanation of what’s going on. She laughs at my questions about the incompetent boss and strange goth guy, telling me it’s not meant to be realistic, and I relax after that, letting the dry British humor wash over me.

  I eat the popcorn she offers, some kind of addictive parmesan topping making my mouth water, and listen to her occasional laughter, leaning in to hear it better. When’s the last time anyone really laughed around me? And when did my life get to the point where I can’t remember something like that?

  As the episode ends, neither of us say anything as the TV autoplays to the next one, and I stay equally silent as she moves closer while readjusting her foot on its pillow. This near, her perfume makes its appearance once again, wafting softly over me, comforting me.