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“Hello?”
“Are they still home?”
Bishop.
“Who? Are who still home?”
“Your dad and Elena.”
I huff, standing from my bed, and walk toward my sliding door that leads onto my little balcony, pushing the elegant white curtain out of the way. Peeking out the slit, I shake my head. “No, they’re gone. Why?”
“Pack a bag, and tell Nate to pack one too.”
“What?”
“Pack a fucking bag and be ready in five minutes. We’re almost there.”
The urgency in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Why?” I straighten my shoulders, my eyes darting around the room.
“Ask questions later. For now, for once, just do as you’re fucking told.” Then he hangs up the phone. I look down at the now blank screen, my eyebrows drawing in.
“Nate!” I yell, dropping my phone onto the bed and walking toward our conjoined bathroom. Pulling open his door, I instantly slam my hand over my eyes at the sight of Nate riding some girl. “Nate! Oh my god! For fuck’s sake!”
“Join in or get out!” He laughs, though if I take in the sounds correctly, I’d say he’s not stopping his penetrating.
I keep my hand over my eyes. “Bishop just called and said we both have to pack a bag and be ready in five minutes.”
“What?” He stops. He stops?
“Yes. So can you hurry up?” I roll my eyes, dropping my hand to my side when I realize I don’t care, until my eyes fall on Tillie. Oh no. Once? Fine. Twice? Not fine. My smile falls. “Tillie?” Her cheeks turn red as she pulls the covers up to her face. Nate rolls his eyes, tugs the bedding down, and then crawls off her, pulling his jeans on. “Don’t hide from her.”
“Jesus,” I whisper, my hand now coming to my forehead. “You and I will talk about this,” I hiss toward Nate.
“Jealous?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I’ll punch him. I swear to God, I’ll punch him.
“No!” I scrunch up my face. “Get ready.” Then I leave them both, walking back into my room and straight to my closet. Pulling out my duffle bag, I yank down random clothes and shoes, shoving them inside before darting into the bathroom for my toothbrush, shampoo, and all the essentials I’ll need—including my birth control pill. Nate walks in, his door swinging open to show Tillie shuffling her jeans back on. He walks toward the sink and snatches his toothbrush, watching me closely in the mirror.
“Hurt her, Nate, and I’ll kill you.”
“Threats are cheap, kitty!” he hollers, as I walk back to my bed and shove all my toiletries into the side pocket before kneeling and scooping up the leather-bound book from under my bed, slipping it into my bag. “That wasn’t a threat.” My voice is calm, stoic. My bedroom door crashes open, hitting the wall to show a fuming Bishop.
“Holy fuck!” I yell. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Get downstairs, now! Where’s Nate?”
“In his room. Hey!” I walk toward Bishop, taking in his disheveled hair, and the sheen of sweat on his tanned skin, and his eyes. His eyes are furious, dilated to almost black. Can this man ever look ugly?
“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Just get the fuck downstairs.”
Nate chooses now to walk in. “What’s going on?”
Bishop looks at Nate, Nate looks back at Bishop, and then the smug little smile that was on Nate’s mouth falls instantly. “Oh fuck.”
Bishop snatches my hand and pulls me into his body, just about to drag me out the door, when he catches Tillie in Nate’s bedroom. “Really?”
Nate looks over his shoulder briefly. “You are in no place to judge anyone’s choice of bed partner.”
Bishop’s jaw tenses. “Except you and I both know I didn’t exactly pick.”
Ouch.
Nate rolls his eyes, scooping up his bag from the floor. “She can come.”
“To the Galleys?” Bishop scoffs. “Definitely fucking not.”
“B, you don’t get a say in this, this time around. She’s coming.” Nate tugs Tillie’s hand.
Bishop steps toward Nate. “I always get the last say. Remember that.”
“Bishop, let her come. Stop being an ass,” I whisper.
He looks at me over his shoulder briefly, seeming to struggle with something, before looking back to Nate. “What? You think because she says, I’ll do it? Are you forgetting who I am?”
“We’re wasting time!” I yell. I don’t know for what reason, but it probably has something to do with how tense Bishop is.
He steps back, his eyes still locked on Nate. “Interesting, pup. You actually give a shit about his girl,” Bishop taunts him, snatching my hand and pulling me out my bedroom door. I glance over my shoulder toward Tillie and Nate. When her eyes find mine, I mouth “I’m sorry” to her, and she shakes her head with a small smile. Nate pulls her under his arm and kisses her forehead as we all walk out the front door.
Bishop opens the passenger door to his Maserati before walking around to the driver side. Nate and Tillie get into the back seat, and just as I’m about to slip into the driver seat, I notice the line of cars parked behind us. The driver in the Lamborghini behind us I recognize as Ace, and I guess the rest of the expensive cars have the rest of The Kings in them.
