Page 19 of Bad Bishop

“Doesn’t sound like it.” I thunked my glass Vello’s way, signaling for him to top me up. “Happy to do a paternity test.”

Vello pushed another glassful of alcohol toward me, staring at me shrewdly. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Do you guys think it’s a Camorrista?” my twin sister asked curiously. “A turncoat?”

Luca dragged a hand over his face. “We’re still connecting the dots.”

“And you need someone discreet to find the rapist?” Tierney guessed. “Is that why you called us here?”

It made sense they wouldn’t task one of their own with the job. This was a PR catastrophe for a crime family who made a living being feared.

“I can hunt him down,” I offered. “But I charge up front, and I ain’t cheap.”

Vello chuckled, staring me down like I offered him a hearty bowl of vomit. “If I wanted an assassin, I’d hire Tristan Hale. I only work with the best.”

Hale did make an art of killing people, but I wouldn’t say he was better. We had different execution styles. Mine was more eccentric. I liked to put forth my imaginative nature. Besides, Hale was a masked man. No one knew what he looked like. Technically, Icouldbe him.

“So.” I twirled the liquor in my small glass, staring down at it with boredom. “You gonna tell me why I’m here, or beat around the bush for another hour?”

“We want you to marry Lila,” Vello said.

I ceased the twirling. Stared him down. I knew he was losing the battle to whatever the fuck was killing him. Didn’t realize he also lost his faculties.

“Marry my daughter, Callaghan. Claim the baby as your heir.”

“No,” I said simply.

“Wait!” Tierney lurched forward in her seat. “W—wait. Hear him out.”

I shot a glare at my family. My father shrugged.

“People will believe you’re ruthless enough to take someone like…Miss Ferrante.” He cleared his throat. “You thrive off your merciless reputation. This’ll serve you well. We’ll have Ferrante business, connections, resources. They’ll open up the port for us. We’ll be able to get shipments from Europe. Unchecked.”

The PANYNJ was riding our ass six ways from Sunday, confiscating my drug shipments on a regular basis. The Ferrantes had no such problem. They owned the port, organization, and workers’ union.

“And I’ll be able to break my deal with Achilles.” Tierney tried snatching my gaze, her voice reeking of desperation.

The deal.

Achilles Ferrante’s greatest sin in my book wasn’t even clawing out my eye.

About a year ago, when I kidnapped billionaire Tate Blackthorn’s wife, just minding my own business, as a part of work, Achilles held Tierney hostage for a few hours. We’d ended up striking a deal where she’d agreed he’d choose her future husband, and in return, he released her.

“Nice try.” Achilles afforded her a smile. “Your ass is mine, sweetheart.”

“What do you even care about my love life?” Tierney threw her hands in the air. “You’re gay.”

“That’s a rumor you started,” Achilles said laconically. “Good to see you know how to spread something that isn’t your legs, though.”

“We both know I’m spreading nothing. You assigned me a chaperone.”

“Enough.” Vello’s palm came crashing down onto the table. “You two aren’t the subject. Although, now that we veered off-topic—Achilles, you cannot marry the mouthy Irish girl. She’s impure.”

“Toxic as all hell.” My sister kicked back, crossing her legs with a grin. She wore black Chanel logo stockings and a black dress that wanted to be a handkerchief. “I’m no Eve. More like Lilith.”

My sister was a sight. Men desired her. Women detested her. It made her an extremely lonely creature, even though she had hundreds of fake friends.

“Your behavior is shameful.” Vello’s lips curled.