Bishop rolls his eyes and reaches behind the bar, fingers closing around the neck of that amber Macallan bottle Coco keeps stocked just for him. The liquid catches the string lights as he pours three fingers, then slides the bottle back into its hiding spot. “Not saying she orchestrated the whole thing. Just noting she looks like someone who’s here for another fucking pool party.”
My attention drifts poolside without permission.
The water erupts as Gage launches himself into a perfect cannonball, his impact sending a wave over the concrete edge. Bellamy sidesteps the splash, her sundress still dry while others shriek and scatter. Her head tips back, throat exposed, laughter visible even from here.
I snap my focus back to Bishop.
“Gage doesn’t exactly look devastated either.” I jerk my chin toward our brother, who’s now floating on his back, grinning like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “You think they’re in it together? Risked a federal charge—and broken bones—for less than their cut would’ve been if we’d pulled it off clean?”
Bishop’s bloodshot eyes narrow as he drags his palm down his stubbled face. “Christ, just—” He shakes his head, shoulders slumping slightly. “Ignore me. I haven’t slept in three days.”
I tilt my glass toward the general direction of Bishop’s place across town. “You’ve got your own place, man. Go home, get some sleep. Despite what Ma thinks, this party isn’t mandatory if you don’t live here.”
A dry laugh scrapes up his throat. “C’mon, man, not even you believe that shit. These things arealwaysmandatory.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink. “Besides, Coco’s not exactly chaining you to the property line.”
My gaze stays fixed on the rim of my glass.
“Might be time to cut the umbilical, Cruz.”
I let the whiskey burn down my throat, counting the seconds of heat before lowering the glass. “Yeah?” The ice clinks against crystal. “That guest room of yours still available?”
Bishop barks out a laugh. “Like you couldn’t buy half the neighborhood with whatever you’ve got buried in offshore accounts.”
I shift my weight, angling my shoulder toward him. “We sharing banking secrets now?”
Something in his expression locks down, humor draining from his features so fast that it’s hard to believe it was ever there.
“That why the invitations dried up?” I press my thumb against a drop of condensation on my glass. “Afraid we’ll find the duffel bags in your ceiling?”
He shakes his head as he twists the cap off a nearby water bottle. “Only idiots hide cash where the dogs can smell it.”
A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. “Fair enough.”
Across the yard, Gage breaks the surface of the pool once more, water sluicing off his shoulders as he flings his head back. His laughing taunt to Bellamy carries over the music. She stands at the edge, her bare feet inches from the water, head shaking but eyes pinned on my brother.
I turn away before I can catalog the exact shade of her smile.
I tip my glass toward the pool. “You know who definitely hides his money under the floorboards?”
Bishop’s mouth twitches. “Nah, he spends it too fast, remember?”
Rafe walks by, gold watch catching the light as he slips something to one of Coco’s friends by the cabana.
I roll the glass between my fingers, ice clinking against crystal.
Bishop’s shoulders tense. “You hear from Portia or Madeline?”
“I told you I would let you know if I did.” The whiskey burns going down.
“Not even after you cancelled that date?”
“Her assistant called, and I said something came up.” I keep my voice level.
Bishop’s exhale cuts through the music. “So you ghosted the woman who moves half our inventory because—what? You didn’t feel like pasta?”
I meet his stare, one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t realize my dick was part of the payment structure.”
His jaw locks, a muscle twitching beneath stubble. “For fuck’s sake, Cruz.”
