The Bishop Affair (Dominated by the Billionaire Brothers #2) Read Online Free Page A

Jordan were so different that it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that they were brothers. Jordan’s gray-green eyes danced with a friendly, almost playful light. They reflected the mood around them, amplifying happiness and soothing away stress. Trevor’s eyes, on the other hand, had a hard edge around them. Theirs were a frosty blue, cold enough to give you frostbite in a single glare. They were always carefully assessing, like they were picking apart every flaw.

Though their body types were vastly different—probably, in part, to their unique workout regimens—the Bishops still had the air of pride. Both knew they were good-looking and powerful. Everyone else around them knew, too.

That was where any sort of similarity ended. Even their aesthetic tastes were unique, right down to the ways they decorated their offices. Whereas Jordan’s office seemed comforting, with its bright windows, comfy chairs, and warm wooden flooring, Trevor’s office seemed designed to warn you — don’t walk on the rug with your shoes, don’t touch the erotic statue on the desk, don’t even look at the Eastern paintings on the wall. Most of the décor was probably from Jordan’s travels, and I wondered if he saw his brother reflected in each piece he bought. It would be interesting to see how they interacted with another.

“I know he’s probably feeling anxious,” Trevor said. “Phone tapping will do that to people. I should think he’d like an ally right about now.”

He set his pen down and leaned back in the chair. Cracking his neck twice, he looked at me. The amusement was evident in his eyes and I wondered what was so funny. If it was something on the phone, I’d likely never know. But I had a sneaking suspicion that the joke was on me. Even when he looked happy I wondered if it was because I screwed something up. Still, I was all too aware of how my body reacted around him. All of his sharp parts and hard edges made him dangerous. Only a fool would say they were immune to “bad boy” allure. And Trevor had more than enough to spare. I found myself tracing the scar on his face, mentally concocting outlandish scenarios for its existence.

When I met his blue eyes, they were no longer amused. I blushed and stared at my lap purposefully.

“Well, keep me posted on what you find out.” His tone indicated he was done talking about the subject. I was sure the person on the other end was scrambling to wrap up the conversation.

“That’s fine.” Trevor leaned forward to set the phone back down in the cradle and then cracked his knuckles deliberately, one by one.

“Lori,” he said pleasantly, his mouth curling into a smile. “What a welcome distraction.”

He glanced down to his desk—the very one I’d been sprawled across yesterday and spanked—and returned his gaze at me. His eyes twinkled and I knew exactly what he was thinking about. My cheeks heated with embarrassment but I tried not to avert my gaze.

He, delighted. “No hard feelings over yesterday, I hope,” he said. “Have you run into anyone today?”

“No—of course not.”

He held out his hands, grinning. “Lesson learned.”

He enjoyed tormenting me and I wanted this over with as quick as possible. “I’ve brought your dry cleaning,” I said, taking great care in ensuring the words came out evenly. We stood at the same time and he walked around the desk, taking the items from me. I felt a thrill of nervousness at his closeness.

He peeled back the plastic and examined his shirt. When he reached the collar, he rubbed it between his fingers and a faint smile met his lips. Had I finally done something right in his eyes? Tiny tendrils of hope shot through my veins.

“Lori, Lori, Lori.” He set the clothes on his desk. The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the hints of condescension and false disappointment in his voice. What was I going to have to do to endear myself to him? “I work long hours. When I leave the