Page 4 of Mastered By Bishop

My smile nearly falls, and it’s a close call.

“Sir, I see you’re enjoying the meal. I’ll pass your compliments to the other che—”

“Are they as sexy as you?” he cuts me off with a smirk, leaning back in his chair and slinging an arm over the back in a way I imagine he thinks is sexy. Those green eyes crawl over me in a way that sends bile rising. “I bet this place keeps some pretty little things in the back, cooking and sweating over the stove, making delicious food. I bet you taste delicious too.”

Okay, and we’re done here.

“Sir,” I start, projecting calmness into my tone. “I am glad that you’ve enjoyed your experience at The Altar, and I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed in the kitchen.”

He waves a hand at the empty chair across from him. “Sit. Have a drink with me.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m working.”

“One drink.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir.” I start to turn.

The chair legs shriek against the floor as he leaps up and grips my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “What the fuck? I ask you to sit down like a gentleman, and you walk off on me?”

My smile falls, and I wince when he tightens his grip. “Sir, you’re hurting me. I’m going to ask you to leave.”

His face folds into a mask of fury. The restaurant has suddenly fallen quiet, and I can tell most of the attention is on us. But the man doesn’t seem to care that people are watching.

“I look for Kira, or for anyone in a Cathedral blazer, and come up empty. Security works the casino floor downstairs. There’s never been a reason to post them in a fine dining room on the second floor. Until four seconds ago, I’d have agreed with them.

“I was just trying to be nice. You say one nice thing to a bitch, and she thinks she can just flick you off. Just because you can cook doesn’t mean crap if you have an attitude. A lot of bitches can cook bet—”

“I suggest you do as the lady says and let go of her,” a voice, cold as ice, says from behind me.

The words are spoken quietly, in a deep register that makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up and my heart start racing.

“Who the fuck do you think you—?”

The man’s face pales when he looks over my shoulder. His mouth opens and then closes. It opens again as he lets out a sound close to a squeal. My brows lift at the reaction. Whoever is standing behind me, this man has already decided he’s going to die tonight.

I turn around, and…well. I don’t think the king of the underworld would be lucky enough to have a face that striking. That…dangerous.

And just like the drunk asshole, my jaw drops and I find myself tongue-tied. I stare at the tall man, over six feet, with raven black hair, shaved close on the sides and kept long on top. He’s so tall and big, with the face of a fallen angel.

And those eyes…

Those dark blue eyes are enough to send my heart stumbling. When he speaks next, that deep voice raises goosebumps along my arms, and I forget, for one full second, that there is a stranger’s hand clamped around me.

Oh, shit.

“I will not ask again. Let. Go. Of. Her.”

Chapter Two

Bishop

I could kill him.

Half a dozen ways in which I could do so have crossed my mind in the last several seconds, but I don’t give in to him. And I don’t want to have this asshole bleed out in front of the other diners. But he’ll bleed alright, just not here.

And he knows it too.

Even in his clearly inebriated state, he knows who I am and what I’m capable of. He knows damn well that I’m not the forgiving kind.