Blurred Lines

CHAPTER TWO: BLOOD AND OIL

Marius found Bishop on the balcony, offering him a cigar. They lit up together, exhaling smoke into the evening air.

"Remember when we'd steal Father's cigars?" Bishop asked, chuckling.

"And smoked them in the stables," Marius added, grinning. "Father always caught us. Said we smelled like burnt newspapers."

They laughed, but Marius's face turned serious.

"Brother, our war with the Cortizos has worn us down. Key allies are gone. We're not doing well. This marriage might be all that stands between us and ruin. It's Father's plan to keep us afloat—make us legitimate."

"No one's made billions playing strictly by the book," Bishop replied.

"The Colombos are oil-rich billionaires. Marriage to their daughter guarantees security contracts, uncontested trade routes, consolidation of power. Colombo Oil will be the front while everything else happens behind the scenes."

"What do they want in return?" Bishop asked.

"Our stronghold at Santa de la Guerre—all three thousand hectares. It's an untapped oilfield."

Bishop's face showed worry lines.

"Do you relish being a gigolo so much that marriage fills you with jitters?" Marius teased.

Then he saw it—the look in his brother's eyes.

"Wait! You're in love, aren't you?" Marius exclaimed.

Bishop remained silent.

"The big bad D'Abord is in love," Marius laughed. "Well, whoever she is, she's insignificant now. You've got a new queen."

Bishop couldn't shake his brother's nonchalance. He hated Marius in that moment, his mocking smile rousing contempt. He smiled tightly, patting his brother's shoulder.

"I need some air."

Before Marius could respond, Bishop was in his sedan and outside the compound.

Morissette stared at her reflection, admiring her pale yellow skin, red braids, and feline green eyes. Her slender, curvy frame moved to the window overlooking the city's bright lights. She loved the north side—the solitude, the isolation that made her feel like the only human on earth.

She sat at her easel, applying final touches to a painting, losing herself in each delicate stroke.

Suddenly, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Blondie," she laughed, turning to kiss him.

"How'd you get in?"

"You forgot I've got a spare key," Bishop said. "I knew I'd be spending time in Salt Lake City."

"That ugly hat you wear at work should be sentenced to die," he teased.

"Doesn't stop your flirtations."

"I can't help myself."

He lifted her like a toddler, smiling as she giggled. His desire was obvious as he kissed her deeply, her soft moans sending his hormones wild.

"I've missed you, baby," she gasped.

"Allow me to show you how much," he whispered.

He kissed her velvet skin, exploring from her neck down. She quivered helplessly as passion consumed them both. Time felt eternal as they ravaged each other, lost in their own world. Their lovemaking was intense, almost spiritual—a soulful exchange driven by perpetual longing.

They climaxed together, collapsing in exhaustion.

"That was amazing," Morissette panted. "I love you, baby."

He cupped her face. "And I you."

"Now go get cleaned up. You're too sweaty. That bathroom's clogged—use mine instead."

"Maybe I'll fix it for you."

"You clean pipes now?"

"Well, seeing as I just cleaned yours, I'm qualified."

She giggled, rolling her eyes.

Her eyes followed his frame until he disappeared into the bedroom. She needed to clean up too. Wearing only her underwear, she headed toward the bedroom.

Stepping inside, she froze. Bishop stood stern-faced, a paper between his fingers.

The pregnancy test.

"You're pregnant?!" he said, half-question, half-statement.

"I was going to tell you."

"Is it even mine?"

"Excuse you?! Who else's would it be? It's certainly not a miracle baby!"

"You can't prove it's mine."

"f**k you, Bishop! Get out of my house!"

Bishop knew he'd crossed a line. He gathered his things slowly, hoping she'd reconsider.

"Are you sure? Let's talk. We can figure this out."

"Out! I've got nothing to say to you."

He stared at her for what seemed like ages, then walked out into the cool night air.

Homecoming was nothing like he'd expected.