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“Well, you’re only nineteen. Your biological clock has barely begun ticking.”
“Is that why you mentioned birth control pills? Because you think this is what Jericho’s planning?”
“What else makes sense, cousin?”
“So, what, he’ll get me pregnant then take the Bishop fortune from Carlton?”
“From all the Bishops.”
“No, I can’t imagine that.”
“He is the Head of your Household. It all falls to him even if you’re the one with Bishop blood and you’re the one carrying the child.”
“I have my pills, though. Three months’ worth. And I’m sure he’d have taken them away if this was his plan. He is the one who had my things brought over.”
“True. Still.”
I am silent as I absorb the weight of this. Could it be true? No. No way. He’d have taken the pills for sure.
“Anyway, I have to go. Try to meet Matty and me for lunch soon. We can talk some more.”
“I’ll try.”
“And in the meantime, take your birth control pills and enjoy the sex because honestly you could have done worse! Speaking of,” she starts, lowering her voice. “I didn’t ask you about the sex. How was it?”
Bloody, I want to say but don’t. “Goodbye, Julia.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Fine. Bye, Isabelle. Take care in that house.”
33
Jericho
I pull up to the entrance of the Savoy Hotel and Dex and I step out of the car. I toss the keys to the valet who stands looking at the car with his mouth agape.
“Don’t hit anything,” Dex tells him.
“No sir!” he says, and I almost expect a salute.
“You’ll make the kid nervous,” I tell Dex as we step through the double front doors of the posh hotel and head toward the breakfast room. We pause at the hostess stand and I scan the large room where they manage, even for the size, to make the tables seem private.
“Sir, can I help you?” the hostess asks just as I spot the back of Bishop’s balding head. I wonder if he’s aware he’s losing his hair.
“No, thank you. I found who I’m looking for.”
Dex stands just inside the entrance, and I weave my way around elaborately set tables and waiters carrying trays of mimosas and silver carafes of coffee to Bishop’s table. I’m surprised he’s got his back to the door but as I near, his companion tucks her phone away and I wonder if she saw me before I even glimpsed them.
Julia Bishop. Isabelle’s cousin.
Carlton stands and makes a show of ducking a punch. “Whoa, big man, here to finish the job? Do I need to call security?”
“Sit down, Bishop, you’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” he says.
