Chapter 4 #2
They cling to each other behind the main group. Allegra rests her head on his shoulder, and Coen wraps his arm around her protectively as his sharp gaze takes in every single person in the room.
She’s terrified.
So is he.
And they have every right to be.
Her father isn’t to be fucked with, and that’s precisely what we’ve done—over and over again—by interfering with his plans and refusing his demands. Now that he knows his first grandchild is on the way, there won’t be any stopping him.
I shake my head, shoving the note back into the envelope and tucking it into my pocket. “No. It’ll only upset them. It can wait until after the ceremony.”
Pope’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?”
I’m not.
They’ll be pissed I didn’t tell them this was delivered when they do find out, but I can’t do that to them today. I can’t destroy this brief moment of joy for everyone.
It doesn’t seem to be an immediate threat.
If Satriano wanted that, he would have personally brought it and made a show of trying to get to us. Plus, I’m confident we have this place locked down tight, so he’s not getting in here, even if he wanted to.
“Fuck Satriano and fuck the champagne.” I point toward the bottle in Pope’s hand that costs as much as some people make in a year but might as well be trash considering where it came from. “Go stick that somewhere no one else will see it.”
He doesn’t hesitate to hustle down the ramp at the back of the dais, and I watch him use his access card to disappear into the security room along the far wall.
I’ll deal with it later.
When Pope reappears, he gives me a tight smile and retakes his position next to Allie on the dais. Benjamin immediately raises his arms for his father, and Pope scoops him up and whispers something that has the baby giggling.
Despite how unsettled I am by the gift, a smile pulls at my lips. Because Pope finally has his own family. Even with everything going on around us, even when he’s at the beck and call of a man like Satriano to maintain this false “peace,” he’s happy. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for any of them.
But my smile fades quickly…because Dad was right.
I don’t have anything.
Nothing but this job and this gut feeling that, if I ever fuck up again, someone else is going to pay the price for it.
And I can’t let that happen.
I won’t.
* * *
GAGE
Savage smiles from his place in the center of the dais, his true joy spread across his face as he holds a microphone, taking in the crowd. “I won’t keep you waiting any longer by rambling on about how excited and proud I am that we’ve finally reached this moment.”
His gaze drifts to his family behind him briefly, landing on every member lined up for the celebration, before returning to everyone else in front of him.
“You’ve already heard about all the hard work, sweat, and tears that went into this space.
So, let me wrap up by saying thank you again for coming to celebrate this monumental day with us.
Please enjoy touring the new tower. And don’t forget to step across the street to play some table games or eat at one of our fabulous restaurants at the main Hawke Hotel! ”
I clap along with those surrounding me as he retreats from the front of the dais to join the rest of the Hawkes.
Aside from thanking his daughter and son-in-law, as well as his sister Storm and her husband for their work on designing and building this place, the Hawke patriarch kept things relatively short and sweet.
Probably because he knows this place speaks for itself.
Soaring twenty-five floors above us, the massive panes of glass allow all the Louisiana sunlight to flow in and reflect off the massive chandelier that falls all the way from the top to directly above us.
It is truly stunning.
A piece of crystal art that looks more like it belongs in the Louvre or some other gallery rather than a hotel.
But I wouldn’t have expected anything less from the Hawkes.
The main hotel and casino across the street are just as beautiful. Just as opulent and over-the-top extravagant. The entire space glows with a vibrancy and welcoming warmth that I can’t imagine anyone could resist.
A flame to lure in the people of New Orleans and get them to let down their guards and empty their pockets on the tables and at the machines.
It’s been a tremendous success, and just like with their other businesses, I can see why.
They don’t cater to the drunk revelers who only come down for Mardi Gras or to get plastered on Bourbon Street.
They attract a higher-end clientele, both here and at the clubs, bars, and restaurants that make up their empire.
They know what it takes to truly succeed in business—sophistication and style.
It’s impressive in a way I find few things are these days.
Except her.
Bishop has been front and center during the entire presentation, standing guard on the raised dais, watching everything like the killer hawk she is. Hunting in the crowd. Not missing a thing.
And despite my best efforts, that includes me.
I felt her eyes on me once.
Only for the briefest of moments.
But long enough that familiar heat spread through me, along with the heavy weight of regret I always carry when it comes to her.
When it comes to this—my inability to stay away from her no matter how many times I tell myself I will.
She slowly makes her way down to the main floor and out into the tower lobby—like a panther on the prowl for her prey. With her dark head of braids twisted into a bun at the top of her head today, I’m able to follow her for a while before she disappears into the milling crowd.
As soon as I lose sight of her, the itching desire to follow moves my feet in that direction.
I slowly make my way around the edges of the lobby, keeping my eye on everyone and everything in the tower. Memorizing the layout. Assessing weaknesses. Preparing myself while searching for her again.
“Looking for someone?”
Shit.
Her familiar voice freezes me in my tracks, and I glance over my shoulder to find her somehow behind me even though I kept my back to the exterior wall almost the entire time.
How the hell did she do that?
She raises a dark brow, arms crossing over her chest, tapping her booted foot impatiently as her eyes sweep over me with a penetrating scrutiny that feels like an equal mix of sexual appraisal and stark threat analysis.
I allow a grin to curl my lips as I turn to face her fully, unable to fight it when this woman is so fucking impressive in just about everything. Sneaking up on me isn’t easy, yet she makes it look like child’s play. “You, actually.”
The second brow meets the first over leery bourbon eyes. “Really?”
Taking a step toward her, I nod. “Really.”
Her lips twist. “That’s interesting because I don’t remember you being on the guest list. How’d you get in?”
The sharp edge in her voice raises goosebumps on my skin.
This woman won’t hesitate to slice and dice me with something far more dangerous than her mouth if she found me to be a threat.
And the longer she looks at me, the more she seems to see me as one.
Yet, I take another step toward her, making room for a group of chattering people to walk past us—and giving me any excuse to get closer.
Any other woman might have backed away, might have recoiled slightly at just how close I’ve gotten, especially given her unease at my presence. But not Bishop.
She stands her ground, glaring up at me with intense darkening eyes full of wariness that grows the longer we stare each other down.
Smart girl.
She has every right to be wary.
If she weren’t, I’d actually be concerned.
I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have been able to get through her wall of security, just like I shouldn’t be able to get under her skin the way I do.
She hates both those truths.
Offering a nonchalant shrug, I grin despite the glower she continues to direct at me. “I charmed my way in.”
Her lips press together, her jaw tightening. “Bullshit. Our security’s tight. Tell me how you got in.”
The tension has her practically vibrating.
And damn if I don’t want to see her unleash all of it.
At me.
Something tells me it would be fucking beautiful to witness…
I slide in a little closer, dipping my head until her jasmine scent fills my breaths. “If you really must know, I walked in the front doors.”
She flinches as she drags her head back so she can search my face. “How did you get past security?”
Reaching behind her, I place my hand on the wall so I can lean in, so I can test her limits and see just how much she’s willing to withstand before she snaps. “I know you think you have this place locked down tight, but I have a secret for you.”
Her throat works a thick swallow. “What’s that?”
It’s important she listens to me, that she heeds this warning, so I pray her distrust of me doesn’t make her disregard it.
“No one and no place is ever one hundred percent safe or secure.”
Those stunning eyes of hers somehow darken even more, the warm bourbon almost disappearing completely in the depths of her skepticism and suspicion. “And how does a mechanic know that?”
I grin at her. “Because I haven’t always been a mechanic.”
Her eyes flair wide. “And what were you before?”
The edge in her voice makes me suspect she’s already tried to find out. If I were her, the second I gave my name the other night, I would have run a full background check and done as much digging as I could.
Which means she’s probably very frustrated right now with what she’s been able to learn.
“Bad fucking news. I got into quite a bit of trouble in my misspent youth. Boosting cars. Stealing. Those days are long behind me, but I learned a lot of invaluable skills and painful truths that have come in handy in my reformed years.”
“I bet.”
The coolness emanating off her does nothing to quell the heat I feel with our bodies this close.
It has nothing to do with the crush of people making their way past us or the warm sunlight streaming in the atrium.
This warmth somehow just exists when we’re in the same space, sharing the same air, even when she’s trying to ice me out.
“What are you doing here, Gage?”
Fucking hell…
Hearing my name from her lips tightens my chest as a much lower part of my body hardens, and I step in another few inches until my chest brushes hers. “I came to see what all the fuss was about. Everyone’s been talking about the opening.”
Bishop stands absolutely still, not reacting to our proximity or me invading her personal space. With her stuck between me and the wall, we both know she could grab my arm beside her head and have me down on the floor in a millisecond to free herself if she wanted to, but she doesn’t budge.
She knows what that would mean—surrender.
And this isn’t a woman who ever surrenders.
She stares me down, challenging me, daring me to move even closer. “Have they?”
I tilt my head and examine her, searching for a crack in the armor I can pry at.
The warning I just gave her was very real, yet she appears unfazed by it, by me being this close.
Simmering unease continues to bubble within her, but she keeps herself calm rather than lashing out with accusations against me when she has nothing but her instincts to back her up.
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
Her brows rise slowly. “Should I? I don’t know a single thing about you.”
“Of course you do. I’ve already told you lots of things.”
More than I should have.
But this woman knows the right questions to ask.
“And how do I know the things you’ve told me are real, that they’re the truth?”
I don’t bother to fight my grin at the way she just proved my point about her perfect intuition. “Because I’ve been told I’m a shitty liar.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re lying right now.”
Good God…
It takes everything in me not to kiss her right now. Not to grab her face and drag her lips to mine. Not to devour her here and now despite the way she just saw right through me. Because of the way she just saw through me.
That makes this even more dangerous.
I should walk away and never look back.
I should take my own advice to never let anyone distract me.
I should keep focus where it belongs.
But I can’t look away from her.
“You’re right, Bishop. I am lying. But it’s not about what you think.
I did come to see what all the fuss is about, but my real reason for being here today?
” I tip my head until my nose brushes her soft cheek, that heady jasmine scent making my already semi-hard cock throb. “Was because I wanted to see you.”
She tenses again, and when I pull back, she offers me an incredulous look that screams she doesn’t believe a word that just came out of my mouth.
But both reasons for being here are true.
One was just a stronger pull than the other.
“Bishop!”
Someone calls out her name, and the voice bursts the invisible bubble surrounding us that made it feel like we were the only two people in the damn room.
She shakes her head slightly, as if she was just freed from it too, and glances behind me at someone, then starts to step forward to get around me but freezes, returning her gaze to mine. “What is it you want? You’ve been hanging around the club, now you show up here. You must want something.”
“I would’ve thought that was obvious at this point.”
Without waiting for her reply, I push off the wall, turn, and walk away, weaving my way through the remaining crowd, her scent still filling my lungs and my cock still straining against my jeans.
By the time I step out into the fresh New Orleans air, it’s too late.
I made a mistake coming today. Seeking her out and thinking I could do it without her noticing was arrogant, risky, and downright foolish.
She’s too observant.
Too smart.
Too cunning.
That woman won’t give me an inch when I want to take it all.
Pushing her harder could massively backfire.
Or it could give me exactly what I need.