Page 128 of Bad Bishop

“You fucked her in our home.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked sincere.

“In my dress.”

“I wanted her to be you. I knew I couldn’t touch you, but the thought of having anyone else was rather…unexciting.”

“And then there was that stupid receptionist.” I narrowed my eyes.

“She was just bait. I never touched her.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“Yes, but I’ll make a damn good husband if you let me.”

“I don’t know if I could ever forgive someone who’s been this cruel to me.”

“That’s fine, I’m not that person anymore.” He shrugged. “You turned me into someone else completely.”

Beyond his shoulder, I spotted Becky, puzzled at the sight of me standing on my husband’s designer peacoat, giving him shit.

“Do you want me to fire her?” he asked, his eye searching mine. “Say the word, and I will. I’ll fire all of them. Every single woman under my employment. There’s no one else, Lila,” he said. “There never really was.”

Pacified, I licked my lips. “No. I’ll never take away someone’s job for no good reason. And my ego is not a good enough reason.”

“I’ll make sure Fintan deals with this club,” he promised. “I won’t ever see her again.”

“Just promise me you and Fintan treat these girls well.”

He looked surprised and a little annoyed. “Of course. They get paid in cash. Crazy tips.”

“And the clientele?”

“Adhere to the club’s rules.”

I studied him with a pout, watching as the wait turned him inside out.

“You can take me to the restaurant now.”

When we drove off and I saw Becky loitering at the entrance, shooting me a furious scowl, I made sure to flip her the bird.

CHAPTER FORTY

LILA

Summer slinked away, giving room to chilly fall days. The leaves turned yellow, then orange, then, finally, brown.

My belly swelled and stretched, the baby kicking and somersaulting playfully inside it. We had our own games now. I poked him; he punched or kicked back. I sang; he stirred. He was my companion when I ate, slept, sketched, and read.

I loved him extra hard, to make up for the fact his father didn’t.

Tiernan took me to the shooting range twice a week now.

I didn’t know whether it was because he was determined to help me protect myself or that I was so absolutely terrible at it. Maybe both.

One day, when Tiernan drove us to our biweekly practice, he veered out of the city and onto the highway.

“Where are we going?”