“Fuck.”
The tears start again, and I wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them in closer. When my phone vibrates on the floor of the bathroom, I dive down to grab it, wishing and hoping it’s Bishop. I’d take anything over losing him.
I notice Tillie’s name and answer. “Hello?”
“Madison, ahh, Bishop is losing his shit in his office, and if I’m honest, I’m a little afraid he’s going to kill Nate or any of them—”
I hang up my phone and shove on my Riverside Prep hoodie and Converse, snatching the keys to my Ferrari. Jogging downstairs to the showroom garage, I unlock my turquoise pastel car and slide into the driver’s seat. My phone starts ringing again and I hit the phone emblem on the steering wheel as I reverse out of the garage, flooring it down our driveway.
“What?”
“You hung up on me!” Tillie whines.
“Sorry,” I say, sniffing my nose. I reach up to touch my nostril and bring my fingers back down to see bright red blood on the tips. “Fuck.” I swipe it on my hoodie and continue the drive. “Look, I’m on my way. Who is in there with him?”
“Nate and Brantley. Hey, what’s going on with you two, Mads?”
“He’ll be fine, but please don’t leave him alone.”
“Mads…”
“Look. We’ve… I can’t do this right now. I won’t be long.” I floor it forward onto the highway and hang up the phone, panicking. My heart is broken, but it still beats for him, and the blood that’s rushing around my body is hot—wanting to break out of my skin.
“Oh God.” As soon as I pull into the hotel, my tires skid to a stop and the valet is already there, smiling at me.
“Morning, Madison—”
I toss the keys at him. “I’m so sorry, Trevor. Please just park it somewhere.” I didn’t even stop to check myself and see how bad I looked, because right now I know Bishop’s spiraling. I can feel it inside of me that he needs me. He hates me, but he needs me. I need to be that person—the one he always doubts that I am.
I push the private elevator and swipe my key, waiting as the numbers climb along with my agitation when they don’t move fast enough.
The doors ping open and Tillie is standing there, eyes wide. “Madison—”
I ignore her, shoving out of her way and going straight for the office. I don’t bother knocking, pushing the door open and bracing myself for anger.
Chaos.
Maybe all three of them killing each other.
What I wasn’t expecting was seeing all of them sitting in different areas of the room, calm and settled. Goddammit. Tillie made it sound like this was urgent.
“Sit down.” Bishop gestures to the seat in front of him. He points to the other two. “Get out.”
Nate and Brantley finally move out of the room, but not before Nate pauses, his hand on the door handle. “You both need to sort this shit out before Bishop takes the gavel. This shit? It’s not good. And Madison?” Nate swipes his nose. “Fucking get off the coke before it kills you.”
“If it doesn’t, I sure as fuck will,” Bishop growls under his breath.
I gulp, resting my hands on my lap as Nate closes the door in his departure. It’s then I realize the complete disarray of the room. Photo frames smashed, books thrown all over the floor, bullet holes shot into the bulletproof glass window behind his desk.
“Got a video this morning,” Bishop says calmly, reaching for the decanter and taking out a cigar. He clenches his teeth so hard the muscles on the sides of his jaw flex. “Gotta say, your little side-piece is sure theatrical with his success of being able to lay you flat on your back.”
“Bishop, I don’t know what else to say.” Other than the truth. The truth that I can’t feed you because it will hurt everyone around me. I’d rather them all hate me than they have any harm.
“Madison, you fucking cheated on me. He recorded it. Sent it to me. You fucked him on our bed.”
My face pales as my throat swells, and all of the words that I want to say can’t come out. “I’m sorry, Bishop. It was a mistake.”
His silence is deafening. He pushes up from his desk and moves to the large window that overlooks the city, his body remaining hard, staunch. His shirt tightens enough to show his muscles, but his jeans are fitted enough to not give too much away. His hair is a mess on the top of his head, and when he reaches for his Zippo in his pocket to light his cigar, I notice his split, bleeding knuckles.
He doesn’t turn as he says the next words. “I won’t be telling anyone about what happened. You will not tell anyone. You will stay here, with me, and pretend that none of this happened.”
“Why?” I ask, whispering through the pain. “Why would you?”
“Because I’m not going to be the one who breaks this family. And if in a hundred years, when I decide I’ve forgiven you, then maybe—maybe—I’ll let you remember just how much I loved you.” He finally looks over his shoulder before fully facing me. “Because I did, Madison. I did love you. Now?” he growls, and I see it now. I see the boy I knew all those years ago, only this time it’s worse. It’s worse because he’s not a boy—he’s a man. “Now you’re nothing to me but a fucking transaction.” He flicks his hand to the door. “Get out.”
One Month later
When you find someone who destroyed you.
Kill them.
CHARITY EVENTS WITH THE ELITE Kings are never as they seem. For one, they’re used as a guise to distract people from what is really going on—and in tonight’s case, it is Hector Hayes and his usual laws, tricks, and games.
I never understood the extent of everything until I became close with the society of the EKC. Hector is by far the most hated yet respected and admired man in this world. We are now months away from him Bishop taking over for his father completely, and I’m not ready.
Not even close.
My throat closes around the bubbles of the light champagne as my eyes fly to Tillie who sits opposite me. Bishop is on one side, Nate on the other. Even as the music plays throughout the lobby, I know what Bishop is doing. He ignored me all morning, making sure to get ready with the boys. Things between us have been tense, to say the least. I wake up every morning and plaster on a smile to conceal the pain that bleeds through my veins. People think that when you’re sexually abused it’s only about surviving those few minutes while it happens, but it’s not. Their hands stay on your long after the act is done.
Bishop’s eyes come to mine. The same I hated when I met him, and loved without realizing. He’s dressed in an Armani suit with the buttons undone at the top, and his hair is a clutter of a mess on the top of his head. I mean, we all know his family has some weird Italian bloodline, but he has some serious extreme gene enhancements going on. Even if Scarlet didn’t tell me about their family history, you can see it in both him and his father. Their sharp features that have an underlying danger beneath their hazel eyes.
They’re a problem.
Bishop Vincent Hayes has always been ominous, but I’ve always been his muse. Until recently. I fear I think I lost him for good this time.