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

by Simms, Jennifer

  “You’re doubting me,” he chuckled lightly, looking at my face. “There are far too many women who want to be with me just for the the cash, the status, the looks. You’re not one of them, but Vanessa was. She doesn’t really have feelings for me, just the idea of me. I don’t think she ever realized the difference between the two. She had feelings for Bishop Corp—its prestige and company credit cards included.”

  “Far too many women?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Jordan bit his lip as if he let some personal secret slip inadvertently. “Now that’s a conversation we shouldn’t have. I’m trying to be honest with you so you can understand what happened back there, but rehashing my dating past is bad news and makes me look awful.”

  My mind raced back to my first day at Bishop Corp, when Susan had joked that part of my duties as personal assistant to the brothers would be beating women off with a stick. Unfortunately, that remark was looking less and less like a joke.

  “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” I said, half-grateful, half-remorseful for his honesty so far. “But there’s something I’m still confused about that’s been bugging me. Yesterday at the mall, Vanessa said something about ‘another assistant.’ ”

  Jordan nodded grimly. “She was talking about Emily.” He winced at the sound of her name. “My previous personal assistant. She was mine—that is, Trevor said he didn’t need a personal assistant.”

  I wondered what the story had been there, but Jordan waved his hand tiredly.

  “I’m sure you’re probably curious about your predecessor, but that’s a story I don’t feel up to telling.” He leaned back, studying the sea, before looking up at me. “Suffice it to say that her tenure at Bishop Corp. ended messily with lessons learned.”

  “Messy ending?” Was Jordan involved with her, too?

  Jordan reached up for my left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “You’re nothing like her, Lori.” He stared deep into my eyes. “I promise you that. Her mess had more to do with the business than anything else. I don’t really want to get into it because I don’t want to get you involved in the drama.”

  It sounded like the mess with Emily was still an ongoing thing, which heightened my worries.

  Jordan let go of my hand and seemed to travel a far ways off even though he was still looking at me. “We went without a personal assistant for a long time after Emily’s departure, but the strain grew to be too much on everyone. Finally, Trevor suggested that we share one so he could help keep tabs on her—well, you.”

  Trevor was chaperoning Jordan when it came to me? That made our current situation even more difficult. I was worried about the necessity of Trevor looking out for Jordan. Surely he wasn’t that clueless about women he worked with and dated...

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re a sucker for personal assistants?” I asked petulantly.

  He chuckled lightly and tilted his head up. “I’m a sucker for you.”

  I forced a smile, feeling uneasy about Jordan’s dating past, the women around him, and what it meant for our future. Vanessa’s words at the ball came back to haunt me—“I’ve seen ‘em all come and go”.

  A strong wind whipped sand into our faces and we both had to cover our eyes from the stinging grains. Jordan regained his feet and took me by the arm, helping me back to the parking lot.

  “It’s cold. Let me take you back to the hotel.”

  He got up, with his jacket in hand, dusted it off and wrapped it around my shoulders. I offered no resistance this time, preoccupied with processing everything he told me. He affectionately patted the sand off my dress as we walked to the parking lot.

  Jordan shook hands with George, who clapped him on the back before we climbed into the limo. I noticed the car Jordan had commandeered to get to the beach was a purple Lamborghini.

  “You’re not just going to leave that there, are you?” I pointed to the sports car.

  “It’ll be fine. I texted my friend to tell her where to find it.”

  As George revved the engine, I couldn’t help thinking about Jordan and Vanessa’s relationship, his prolific dating past, his former personal assistant, and even the fact that he borrowed a female friend’s expensive car to get here. I wanted to trust him, but it was a lot to swallow. I fidgeted in my seat beside him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, placing a hand on my thigh.

  Being in the limo again reminded me of how Vanessa’s kiss made me vomit. Hesitantly, I decided to tell him about my ex. “My last relationship was with my high school sweetheart, Eric,” I said miserably. “He cheated on me by kissing another girl at a party—that’s why we’re not together anymore.”

  His hand squeezed my leg. “Lori, you know that kiss with Vanessa was—”

  “I thought he was the one,” I added, watching the city lights drift by just beyond the tinted glass of the limo as I mustered the courage to tell him how I felt about us. “I—I thought you were pretty amazing, too.”

  “Lori—”

  “—I know Jordan. It was Vanessa’s fault. But still. Women throw themselves at you. And who could blame them? I don’t think I could take seeing that again. I would absolutely break down. I’m not sure I can even get over tonight.”

  His grip tightened and his voice came labored. “What are you saying?”

  “It would be nice if we could just go back to having a professional relationship,” I whispered, surprised that I managed to say it. “Just Jordan Bishop, CEO, and Lori Gable, personal assistant. I don’t think I can trust you otherwise. You’re just too hot for your own good.”

  “Look at me.” He tipped my chin toward him with his finger. “There’s no other women. Just you. And it’s going to stay that way. I promise.”

  “I believe you.” I really did, but I was seriously confused and being with Jordan only made things more confusing. “I need time to think things over.”

  Jordan’s tortured sigh pained me. He opened his mouth then closed it, as if conflicted over what to say. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll have,” he said finally. “I know you need time to digest everything, so I’m not going to push. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you. There’s not going to be any other women until you tell me you don’t have feelings for me.”

  A ball of emotion rose in my throat. I stared at the plush carpet unable to bear seeing his determined face knowing that it would make me change my mind. I needed to protect myself. As much as I craved the high I got from being on Jordan’s arm, the crash was much worse. He had the power to ruin the appeal of all other men and that terrified me.

  I noticed that George had stopped the limo at the drop off point of the hotel. A valet opened the door and held his hand out for me.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, gripping the hand like a drowning person would latch on to someone trying to save her life. “Let’s just be friends for now.”

  ***

  I woke up to the bedside phone making a horrible racket next to my face. Shielding my eyes against the bright glare of the morning sun beaming into the thirty-fifth floor of the Hilton, I checked the clock: 9 a.m. Sure, it might have been noon in New York, but that still didn’t mean I was ready to wake up. I felt better than last night, but the emotional exchange with Jordan had exhausted me. A dull pain in my chest had kept me tossing and turning. Despite crawling into the sheets at ten, it was at least past two in the morning when I had finally dozed off.

  I reached over to the nightstand to pick up the squawking phone, knocking over a half-empty glass of water I’d been drinking from last night. Rolling my eyes at my hopeless clumsiness, I answered.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Jordan.” His smoky voice woke me up better than a cup of coffee ever could.

  I gulped, wondering what his reaction would be after what I said to him yesterday. Once we’d arrived last night, Jordan had booked another room for himself. I’d been grateful—as tempting as the idea was to cuddle up in bed with him, it would’ve be
en too awkward after I’d pushed him to the friend zone.

  “Good morning,” I said hesitantly.

  “I remember you saying that you’d never been to California.” His voice was cheerful.

  “That’s true.”

  “I was wondering if you’d want to do a little sightseeing. See the Hollywood sign, the stars, the palm trees. We could go anywhere you’d like.”

  Jordan sounded excited, almost like a little kid. Had he processed anything I’d told him last night?

  “Anywhere I’d like?” I repeated slowly.

  “Yes, just tell me.”

  I could imagine him grinning to himself, thinking I’d come around in the morning to wanting to be with him again and that kind of pissed me off. It wasn’t like this was easy for me. Being without him hurt as much, if not more, than being with him. His suggestion to go on what pretty much amounted to a date, wasn’t helping. He reminded me of Eric visiting my apartment unexpectedly and wanting to do touristy stuff together. I wondered if men and women operated on vastly different logic systems.

  “That sounds really nice Jordan...but I’d like to go back to New York. Can that be arranged?”

  There was a brief silence on the other end of the line and I thought I could hear him sigh. “Of course,” he said. “We’ll leave in thirty minutes for the airport.” He hung up without saying goodbye, but I was more relieved than troubled. I felt guilty disappointing him, but sightseeing with Jordan as my guide was about the last thing I wanted to do right now. I wanted to go home, flop down in my own bed, and shut out the world.

  I took a quick shower and got dressed, picking up my pajamas and other belongings that had been strewn across the hotel room.

  When I got to the lobby, Jordan was already there, helping George stuff a bag into the trunk of the limo. He was wearing a white v-neck undershirt, sleeves tight against his large arms, with a pair of worn jeans over brown desert boots. His resemblance to Eric when Eric showed up at my apartment made me pause for a moment. One glance at his butt as he leaned over to grab his suitcase made me ache all over. No contest. Jordan wore the outfit better.

  Mindful not to tempt myself by examining Jordan’s body, I kept my eyes averted and handed my duffel to George. I felt comfortable in my jeans and sweatshirt under the California sun; it was a big difference from wearing my dress. I’d folded last night’s gown into my bag, eager to forget being Cinderella and ready to get back to being just Lori.

  Jordan was visibly crestfallen but still polite, sitting a good distance away in the limo on the way to the airport. We rode in silence, getting out directly on the tarmac to climb into his jet.

  We’d chosen to sit across the aisle from each other. Once we were airborne, Jordan looked over at me.

  “If you want to take some time off from work, I’d completely understand,” he said.

  As nice as it sounded to have a long weekend, delaying my return to work would only make getting back into a routine more difficult.

  “You’ll definitely see me tomorrow,” I said. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  He smiled, looking a little more like himself. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  We landed at JFK several hours later—me having spent most of the flight napping and Jordan poring over a thick file.

  We walked to the terminal after disembarking his private jet. He gently placed his hand on the curve of my back, causing my breath to quicken. “Can I give you a ride back? It’s no trouble at all.”

  The idea of being back in the city and going to my place in the limo was tempting but I couldn’t do that to either of us. Thankfully I was still half groggy from my nap on the plane, so it was easier to resist his allure.

  “I think I’ll take the subway,” I said, shouldering my duffel and starting to walk away through the busy terminal.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Jordan said, looking extremely unhappy.

  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.

  Chapter 9

  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.