Authors: Jennifer Simms
The Bishop Affair
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2013
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Warning: This work contains scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.
Table of Contents
I stood face to face with my ex-boyfriend, mouth agape. Eric Tipton was always fond of surprising me—in a good way, usually, like chocolates on Valentine’s Day kind of stuff—but this was questionable.
“Lorikeet?” The familiar pet name and a warm hand on my arm jolted me out of my shock.
“Eric, what are you doing here?”
I’d only seen him a handful of times since our breakup half a year ago. We stayed in regular contact over the phone, but I realized that I hadn’t called him since I started my job. I’d had way too much on my mind with Jordan and Trevor demanding my attention.
He stepped out from the doorway and joined me in the apartment hall.
“Sorry, it was short notice, but I didn’t know if they were going to approve my time off until this morning. The last time we talked, you said you were lonely here in the big city. I thought I’d take a little vacation time and help keep you company as you get adjusted to the city.” He shrugged like it was no big deal—taking time off from his demanding marketing position at IBM, driving three hours from Binghamton to New York City, and arriving unannounced at my apartment.
“You can’t just show up without warning. You should have called first,” I insisted.
His voice softened. “I know...”
His features registered deep pain. Or was it regret? “Lori,” he began. “I know you’ll probably never trust me again, and I get that. I’m the only one to blame.” He exhaled deeply, round hazel eyes at his feet, searching for the words that came next. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry for everything. I mean really sorry. That night was the biggest mistake of my life.”
Unwillingly, I was transported back to the boozy college party at the Alpha Pi Epsilon house that had spelled the end of our relationship. Seeing him locking lips with some drunk tart had broken something inside of me. It was like watching a hammer shatter a big part of my future right in front of me. I remembered the dull roar in my ears that had drowned out the thumping music. And I remembered the look on his face when he realized I’d witnessed his entire indiscretion. My heart constricted.
What could I say to him? Our communication had been strained the first few months apart but the more time that passed, the more I was able to open up to him again. Still, a part of me wanted to tell him off. To tell him it was totally not cool that he came without prior notice, especially when we broke up months ago. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d probably think this was borderline stalker behavior. But I knew Eric. I knew he knew better. He must’ve thought that if he asked over the phone, I would’ve told him not to come. And he would’ve been correct. If he was serious about trying to make amends, showing up in person would’ve been his only option.
He rummaged around in his pocket for something.
“I’m sorry, you’re right, I should’ve called. But please take this. I brought it for you.” He held out a brightly colored carving of a bird I recognized.
“Is this a—?”
“A lorikeet,” he finished. “A lorikeet for Lorikeet.”
To anyone else, he would’ve sounded ridiculous, but I suddenly felt my resistance softening as I gently took it from his outstretched palm. “Where did you—?”
“The Binghamton Zoo. I went back by myself a little while ago. It was a walk down memory lane. That was where we had our first date.”
I couldn’t stop the corners of my lips curling upward. “My mom dropped us off. We were still too young to drive.”
He shook his head. “Your mom pretended to drop us off. But she parked the car and sneaked in behind us, spying to make sure I wouldn’t try anything funny.”
I laughed. The memories started coming back. That was so like my mom. I would believe that story even if it wasn’t true.
“Remember the time when I came over to my house to watch
The Princess Bride
and you heard a sound by the window?” He chuckled.
“She walked over with a ladder to make sure that we weren’t making out! God, I can’t believe she thought we wouldn’t notice the thud against the wall or the creaking of her steps up the ladder.”
“But we did make out, once she left.”
“Yes, we did,” I said, laughing and wiping my eyes.
I touched my lips briefly. Only moments ago, Jordan’s lips had been pressed against mine. As wonderful as nostalgia was, there was no way I could forget about Jordan—his soft lips, those muscular arms gripping my waist, that irresistible smile...or that magnificent cock.
“Lori, I really do apologize,” he said finally. “I just wanted to see that you were doing okay. I know you don’t want me here, so I’m going to stay at a hotel. But I do want to see the big city since I’m on vacation. You can call me if you want to get together.”
He turned to leave.
A flash of guilt washed over me. Could I really kick him to the curb after he’d made a special trip to see me? Although the surprise part of it was inappropriate, I could understand where he was coming from. Or after he’d given me a gift to mark our first date at the zoo?
The most memorable part about that day had been the lorikeets. We’d been given tiny plastic cups filled with nectar to feed them. When no less than a dozen chattering parrots converged on my cup like a crazy mob, I’d fled the enclosed area, screaming. Eric followed behind me, swatting at the birds and trying to use his body as a shield. Once it was established that I wasn’t injured and I’d calmed down, he took to jokingly calling me Lorikeet. Even through college, the pet name reminded me that he and I had something special from the start. We were always laughing together.
Everybody makes mistakes, don’t they?
If my multiple missteps with Trevor were any indication, that was a yes.
I spoke before he made it to the stairwell. “No, please stay.” The words felt strangely easy coming out.
He glanced back at me, those puppy dog eyes of his, the most expressive eyes I’d ever seen, melted all the resolve that Sam had tried to instill in me about being strong and moving forward.
“I want you to stay,” I repeated. “I really do.” It wasn’t a lie. The idea of him close by was like being home again.
Besides, it wasn’t going to be a big deal. Just because he was going to stay for a few days didn’t mean we were getting back together. He was, afterall, still one of my closest friends.
“Are you sure?” He trotted over. “I’ll sleep on the couch, no arguments about it. And you just say the word and I’ll go. If you don’t want me around, I completely understand.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek before wrinkling his nose. “Is that a new perfume?”
My hand flew up to cover the area his lips had touched and a warm blush crept across my face. I was sure he’d just smelled Jordan’s cologne, his cloying, sexual musk...and God knows what else. No matter how good it was to have Eric near, there was the constant reminder that I’d just hooked up with my boss on the way over here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, falsely cheerful as I pushed past him and into the apartment. It would feel so good to unload my encounter with Jordan off on Sam, but as I hung up my keys on the door, she came jogging past the kitchen. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing gray sweatpants with a light blue sweater. Even dressed down and without makeup, she was still a knockout.
“Hey, guys.” She was faintly out of breath. “I’d love to stay and catch up, but I’ve gotta squeeze in some gym time.”
She stepped into her sneakers before grabbing her keys from the hanger. “You kids be good, now,” she said, snagging her purse and wiggling her fingers at us. Eric laughed at her, but Sam’s eyes lingered on mine meaningfully.
Did she think it was a mistake for him to be here? I’d have no way of knowing until I could catch her alone. If that’s what she was signalling, she needed to have more faith in me. If only I could tell her what happened between Jordan and me, if only to keep it from bouncing around my skull.
The door banged shut, leaving Eric and me alone.
With the surprise from Eric’s unexpected presence wearing off, I began to notice he appeared different from the last time I saw him. His jeans looked new and smaller than his old ones, his waist more trim, and the white v-neck shirt he wore showcased a figure much more toned than I remembered. His walnut-brown hair that matched his eyes was also trimmed short, a sharp contrast to the boyish moptop he had for the longest time. It reminded me of Jordan’s haircut but slightly rougher, less refined. I knew it was only a superficial impression, but Eric really did seem more mature, more manly.
“Have you been working out?” I asked as I stepped out of my shoes and set my bag down.
He laughed. “You noticed? I’m glad to hear my efforts are producing results. I also stopped drinking, got a more professional-looking haircut, and overall been trying to better myself.” He blushed and smiled sheepishly.
“Well I like the look.” I sincerely meant it.
“Thanks, that means a lot to me. And you look great as always Lori...oh hey, so I have another surprise.” He rubbed his hands together. “I stopped at the grocer’s down the way and got you a special treat.”
I shook my head at him as I followed him into the kitchen, where the oven was already preheated and the supplies laid out. Something smelled delicious.
“Piggies in a blanket!” I hadn’t had the savory and utterly guilty pleasures in a long, long time. They made it oh-so-easy to forget about the hard celebrity bod I’d wanted to strive for just several days prior. Food was always a weakness of mine. Why did it have to taste so good?
We fell to making the treats like old times—him in charge of the tiny sausages and me in charge of the dough folding. We worked side by side in amicable silence for a while. It amazed me that it was so easy to reassume my comfort and ease with him.
“So, how’s your new job going?” He placed a sausage in the middle of a piece of dough and pushed it over toward me.
I hesitated while folding the corners over the sausage and placing it on the baking pan. There was no way I was about to tell him about my “special” relationships with the Bishops.
“Um...I’m really still getting into the swing of things.” I winced inwardly at the understatement. Sure, I was still getting used to the swing of things—like getting spanked by one boss and sexed by the other. “But it’s basically just running errands and transcribing stuff. Run of the mill, really.”
“You deserve better than run of the mill. You’re always working so hard,” he said, passing me another sausage. “But speaking of running, you think you could get any time off to run around the city with me?”
“No way. I definitely can’t take vacation time my first week. That would look pretty bad. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I understand. Just thought I’d ask.” He grinned and pushed the pan into the oven.
Something inside me ached, wanting nothing more than to be able enjoy the simple pleasure of sightseeing with my former sweetheart. But something else stood steadfastly in my way, clouding my visions and my desires.
Their names ended with Bishop.
I had a lot on my mind during my commute to work the next morning. As the bus rumbled by crowds of hurried people lining the sidewalks, I thought about Eric. He'd woken up early this morning to fix me my favorite breakfast—omelets—and had even remembered all of my favorite ingredients: green peppers, mushrooms, and ham. The past few days I’d wolfed down either a yogurt or a granola bar on my dash out the door for work so having a home-cooked breakfast was like tasting water in a desert.
He was going to see the Statue of Liberty and Times Square today. Although I was sure he had seen them already, it had probably been when he was a kid. Besides, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to make the most of his trip.
Stifling a wide yawn, I realized I hadn’t slept much. It had been hard to rest knowing that Eric was sleeping just a few feet away in the living room. His presence was both comforting and strange. When I'd first allowed myself to admit that I was attracted to the Bishops, I thought it meant I was over Eric.
But now that he was back, if only for a couple days, I realized that I wasn't completely over him. Not even close. The way we worked together at the most mundane tasks—like him washing dishes and me drying and putting them away—reminded me of times when things used to be much simpler.
For instance, I wouldn't be worried about how one of my bosses was going to act at work the day after we had sex in his limo.
I could still feel the ghost of his lips against mine, a faint, sweet soreness that would be our secret. Would it be kept a secret? I imagined walking through the office on his arm and I flushed at the fantasy. The look on Trevor's face would be rich when he realized that he couldn't touch me without pissing off his brother. Maybe he’d even be jealous...
I shook myself free from my wild imagination, worried about what it might mean. Could I really be attracted to three men at the same time? At this rate, Sam’s prediction that I’d have a boyfriend for every day of the week might just become a reality.
I just needed to be super professional, I told myself as I stepped off the bus and walked purposefully toward Bishop Corp. building. The problem was that I didn’t think I could keep my composure around the Bishops. I’d never been good at lying and all my blushing ruined my poker face.
As the elevator doors rolled open on the 26th floor, I took in a deep breath, willing away all my worries. My fourth day at work had been beyond strange. I felt like I’d been at this company forever, but I knew, in reality, there was so much more to learn.
I put on a bright smile for Susan until I realized she wasn’t at her desk.
I checked beneath, where she liked to stash her purse, and found it also empty. Was she running an errand for one of the brothers? I checked her desk calendar and found some hurriedly written flight details and “Vegas” scrawled over today and tomorrow’s squares. I found it extremely hard to believe that Susan would just take off to Las Vegas on a whim.
Stepping over to my own desk, I noticed a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I dropped my tote into my desk drawer and pushed it shut with my foot as I unfolded the paper, which was resting on top of a thick leather ledger.
“Lori,” the note read, “For the next two days, I’m in Vegas with Trevor on business related to the merger. You’ll be managing Jordan’s schedule over the next two days. Take good notes at his meetings and type them up when you get a spare moment. His schedule is in the ledger. Good luck...And send lucky thoughts my way. Viva Las Vegas! It’s my first time. Almost forgot, go make coffee right now. Jordan likes a fresh cup when he gets to the office.” Her writing had begun slanting up the page, a sign that she had been in a terrible rush.
I hurried across the office towards the kitchen, my heels thumping against the carpet. I found the coffeemaker with its dozens of knobs and buttons next to a basket of fruit on the marble countertop. I’d only seen Susan use the thing once so I was lucky to find another note stuck to the coffee pot telling me exactly how much water and how many tablespoons of grounds to use.
I was beyond grateful Susan had taken the time to clue me in on everything. She really was a bright point for me while I was at the office and I was sure I’d miss her cheerful presence while she was out of town…with Trevor. The thought gave me pause.
That bastard still had my panties.
I wondered if he’d taken them to Vegas, if they were still stuffed into the pocket of his tailored pants. Would he take them out, remembering how he loved to torture me? Did he enjoy it? I couldn’t tell for sure. Some men you never know how they think.
Regardless of how he thought, I was all too familiar with how Trevor acted with me—domineering, condescending, the way he seemed to relish watching me squirm. How did he interact with Susan? Had he ever bent her over his desk? Though that mental picture was a little hard to fathom—and unsee—I wouldn’t put it past him.
Part of me imagined another scenario: What if I had been the one to go with Trevor to Vegas? The thought of two days alone with him in Sin City sent chills down my spine.
And this is how you discipline a naughty personal assistant,” Trevor says to the roomful of CEOs seated around a large boardroom table, where he sits at the head. I stand next to him, clipboard in hand, and he seizes me by my wrist and drags me across his lap, lifting my skirt to bare my ass to dozens of strange men.
He’d stolen every pair of my panties the second we’d gotten to the hotel and I’d been forced to go bare beneath my high-waisted black skirt. There had been several instances out on the strip when the desert wind had nearly exposed me to passers-by.
Trevor had only laughed.
I yelp as he begins spanking me at the front of the room, the slap of his hand against my naked butt echoing throughout the space. “Your personal assistant needs to learn her place right away,” he continues, spanking my other cheek. “Otherwise, you’ll never be able to control her.”
Murmurs of agreement fill the room as his hand comes down hard on my rear again. And again. And again. I’m positive my face is as red as my burning ass. The humiliation from the entire situation is completed when I realize how turned on I am. I wriggle my hips to increase the pleasurable contact of my pussy against his muscular legs.
What did I tell you, gentlemen? Start early. You’ll have her wrapped around your finger soon enough.”
Jordan’s massive frame suddenly rounded the corner.
“Morning, Lori,” he said casually, professionally like it was just another day at the office. He began pouring the steaming brew into a stainless steel mug. I figured he just got in because he was still wearing his trenchcoat. It was black, expensive-looking and made him seem even taller than the few feet he already had over me.
“Good morning,” I said cooly, thankful that he couldn’t my read thoughts. Otherwise, he would’ve realized I’d been engaged in a hardcore sexual daydream about his brother. And I’m
that would’ve gone over well.
“I don’t know if you realized it, but Susan’s in Vegas with Trevor.”
He sipped his coffee after blowing on it for a bit. Seeing those lips pursed like that made me remember how soft they’d felt against my own.
“She left me a note.”
“Trevor had wanted to take you,” Jordan stated.
I blinked rapidly, tugged unwillingly back to my earlier fantasy.
“I told him no, that I needed you here. I didn’t mention that I knew about yesterday’s little incident with your panties, but I’m sure he knew I knew. He’s kind of freaky like that.” Jordan looked over my head, lost in memories of his own. “Then we had some not-nice words and Susan stepped in. She hates when we fight. It was pretty amazing for her to clear her schedule to go to Vegas.”
Guilt, gratefulness, and trust all warred for my attention. The fact that Jordan had, essentially, protected me from his brother spoke volumes to me. God only knew what would be happening to me right now if I were with Trevor. Another, darker part of me suggested that maybe I didn’t want to be protected from Trevor. Maybe I wanted him to dominate me. I tried my hardest to shoo that thought away.
“I would never want to cause trouble between—”
Jordan quickly waved his hand. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, laughing dismissively. “That’s the thing about siblings. Trevor and I can say awful things to each other over the most ridiculous matters, but at the end of the day, we’re still brothers. The beauty of blood, I suppose.” Jordan went somewhere far away, his coffee still clutched in his hand, but then came back suddenly. I could only guess what memory he’d been pulled into.
“So what’s on the schedule for today?”
I pulled out the ledger, riffling through the pages until I found the entries for the day.
Sometimes Sam complained bitterly about one of her bosses and how he never seemed to be working. The opposite was true for Jordan. Nearly every minute of his day was booked with meetings. When was he even going to have time to eat?
“Your first meeting is in the boardroom at—” I looked up at the clock and gasped “—well, right now.”
“Let’s go.” He strided away.
I hurried to my desk to grab my pen and a notepad and darted after him.
He never failed to attract attention as he crossed the office, I realized, but now my female coworkers were staring at me, too. They probably wondered why the hell I was chasing their gorgeous boss across the office.
Most of the larger meeting rooms were on the 27th floor above but we headed towards a smaller one across from Susan’s desk. On my initial tour through the building, Susan had explained that the meeting rooms above were for the three P’s: planning, process, and powerpoint. This one, dubbed the “Emerald Room” from the luxurious green decor, was used by Trevor and Jordan to meet with only the most important people. Glancing at his schedule, we were going to be in this room all day.
I followed behind Jordan as he pushed the doors open to reveal two people. “Alejandro, qué tal?” he said, shaking the hand of a portly olive-skinned man with thin hair. He was well-dressed and carried himself confidently in front of Jordan despite being the same height as me. “Todo bien, espero. Were you waiting long?”
“Claro que no,” Alejandro said. “I just got here, myself, afraid that I was late.”
After I shook hands with Alejandro and his male assistant, the two men wasted no time discussing business. The meeting that followed was conducted flawlessly in English and Spanish, Jordan and Alejandro switching back and forth between the languages with the same ease as flipping a light on and off. Jordan repeated much of what was said in English for the benefits of my note taking and I noticed that Alejandro was doing the same for his assistant.
Alejandro was the CEO of one of the largest Spanish television networks in the Western hemisphere. This was only the second meeting between him and Jordan to discuss a mutually beneficial advertising partnership but it was clear the two men had already established great rapport during their first meeting when Jordan visited their headquarters in Mexico City.
There was one tense moment where I sensed that Alejandro was upset about something, but Jordan was able to make him laugh with a short, casual statement coupled with a hand gesture. I felt fiercely loyal to my boss and proud to be working with him. Despite his young age, I could see how his business savvy and charisma led him to his success.
As the day progressed, I witnessed more and more of Jordan’s business prowess. We met with media magnates from around the globe, Jordan able to keep up with several in their native tongues. I took copious notes, eager to do my job as well as my boss was doing his. From the notes I’d been previously transcribing, I knew that Bishop Corp. was pushing toward a merger with their main competitor Hyperion Media. Each of today’s meetings seemed to be an amassing of allies—with Jordan as the general, looking to build his media army. He cajoled, scolded, preached, and won nearly every person over to his side. His business style was warm, inviting—nearly the polar opposite of Trevor’s cold and calculating style of negotiating.
In the ten minutes between two meetings, Jordan had yawned and stretched, joints popping. His business mask slipped for a second and I saw a deeply exhausted man sprawled out in a chair.
“Can I get you some lunch?” I asked for the third time. A man his size had to eat the equivalent of a cow each day, especially when coupled with his exercise regime.
“Nope,” he said, his hands behind his head. “I can’t eat in the middle of meeting with all these people.” He laughed shortly. “Early in my career, I wolfed down a wrap in between client meetings. It wasn’t until hours later that I realized I’d had spinach wedged in almost every single tooth. Didn’t make a good impression.”
I winced, unable to imagine the most basic things—like eating—analyzed and foregone.
“How do you do it?” I was tired just from trying to keep track of everything said during the meetings. I couldn’t fathom leading them.
“Caffeine.” He drained his fourth cup of coffee to punctuate the statement.
I snagged it before he could set it back down on the table. “Let me go make a fresh pot of coffee really fast,” I said, standing up. “That’ll make you feel better.”
He smiled at me. “Thanks, Lori.”
Warmth buoyed me across the office and I bustled self-importantly around the coffeemaker, taking care to wash out his mug in the sink before refilling it with freshly brewed java. I remembered to stir in a packet of sugar, watching it dissolve in the inky depths.
When I pushed open the door to the boardroom with my hip, I realized the next meeting had already begun. An attractive woman with dark lustrous hair and exotic eyes was leaning toward Jordan, speaking aggressively in what I guessed was French. Her position revealed more cleavage in her lavender blouse than she might have intended. I found it hard to take my eyes off it as I set his mug on the table. He didn’t even look at it.
“I can understand that you think you’re getting, in your eloquent words, ‘screwed’ in this deal,” Jordan said, switching to English so I could take notes. “But what we’re offering is worth every penny. Only the best for you, Isabel. You know no one else can deliver like I can.” The innuendo was heavy and I suspected that Jordan was dancing along the line of professionalism. I couldn’t ignore a prick of envy at the way he was holding Isabel’s attention, the way she licked her lips at him and immediately softened.