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Knox nods, like he even needs to be asked.
We arrive at the sugar-white hotel nestled against the marina, and I pull to the front where a valet takes my keys. We enter the garish lobby full of Grecian statues spouting water from their bodies, and before I can scope out our surroundings, a woman with a short blonde bob stalks over.
“This way, Mr. Gold.” Her heels clack against the floor as Knox and I follow her down a marble hallway near the front desk. “I’ve blocked off a conference room for your meeting with Mr. Blackstone.”
She leads us to a bank of elevators and pushes the button with a nail so pointy she could claw my eyes out.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say.
Her blue eyes slide to me, but she doesn’t respond. She’s not chatty at all, but she isn’t supposed to be.
Bishop owns this place, and as his employee, she has one job—get us to where we need to be.
The lift doors open and all three of us step inside. Once we’ve reached the designated floor, we follow her out of the elevator and down another long hallway. At the end, she opens a door and motions for us to enter the spacious room.
My hackles rise when I see Bishop sitting at a round table in front of an oversized window overlooking downtown.
“Ah, welcome,” Bishop says, rising from his seat. With his ebony hair slicked back against his head, and dressed all in black, he looks every bit of the devil he is.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I say, extending my hand for him to shake.
He surveys it a minute, like I might have a bomb hidden in my palm, but then he takes my hand in his. “Was she a lot of trouble?”
I shake my head, not answering.
“Sorry, I’m being rude. Please, sit.” He motions to the leather padded chairs at the table. “Marybeth, please get these gentlemen some drinks.”
Fuck no am I drinking anything he gives me. I wave off Marybeth as Knox and I take a seat.
“I wanted to make sure you know for sure I have the goods.” I hate speaking this way about Bianca, but I need to keep my emotions out of this. This is a business deal, nothing more. “Here’s the video I made today.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and start the video, turning it so Bishop can watch it.
“Ah, perfect. She’ll be the first one I’ve gotten,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.
I lean back in my seat, knowing I have the upper hand. He’s just revealed no other women’s lives are in danger because none of the other women have been captured yet. I should call Bianca’s father, let him know Bishop’s here, so the Four Families can do whatever they want with the man.
But…
I have to follow through with my hunch.
“You can have her and do whatever you want with her, but not until I made sure you weren’t going to screw me over and not pay me.”
“I have what you want. Did you bring the girl?”
“Do you really think I’m stupid? We’ll plan another meeting. An even swap, money for the girl. And no funny business,” I say, even though I never plan on letting him touch one strand of hair on Bianca’s pretty head.
“Marybeth, show these gentlemen out.” Bishop rises from his chair, extending his hand. “I’ll be in touch. Just make sure she doesn’t get harmed in the meantime.” He grips my hand with force, and intuition tells me he plans to go after Bianca now.
Let him try. I’ve kept Bianca secluded in my house, with my men watching her, so nothing happens.
Knox and I make fake pleasantries as we say goodbye and follow the blonde down the hallway. As soon as Knox and I are back in the car, I say, “Call the house, make sure she’s safe. Now.”
Knox fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Everything ok?” he growls to whoever is on the other end.
I peel away from the valet station as he hangs up the phone. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
But something doesn’t sit right with me.
There’s a pounding in my chest, telling me something’s wrong.
I didn’t like the way he was so willing to have another meeting. How accommodating he was. He felt off. Something was off.
“I need to call her father.”
I need to alter my plan. If Bishop thinks he’s gonna screw me over, he has another thing coming.
Nineteen
Bianca
* * *
I’m not a delicate flower, and I hate staying here while Costi puts himself in harm’s way. I’m stuck here alone with Henri and Ivan ‘protecting’ me while I pace the spacious house, staring at the paintings on the wall, wondering what’s taking Costi so long.
I hate this.
Thing 1 and Thing 2 might have some answers. Since there’s not much else to do besides worry, I head to their headquarters near the kitchen to ask for the millionth time if they’ve heard from Costi, looking for anything to take my mind off of what’s coming next. Honestly, I don’t even know what comes next.
