Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He can smell the bullshit a mile away. He knows I’m avoiding or leaving something out. When I hear my mother in the background, I shudder. This is going downhill fast.
“Saga Marie, why on earth are you running around with that singer looking all dreamy-eyed and lost? What is this about your job? What’s going on?” my mother says into the phone.
“It’s a long story, Mom. I’ll be there in another week or so to explain it all,” I say.
“Are you dating that boy?” she pushes.
“Yes, I’m dating that man. It’s new. The reports were premature in starting their rumors, but yes, that’s my boyfriend,” I say and sigh.
Bishop squeezes his arms around me and kisses my neck before burying his face there. I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips.
“What happened to taking a break from dating?” My father’s voice comes through the line.
“Bishop happened. I wasn’t looking to get into a relationship, especially not with my boss. We sort of just… happened,” I reply.
“We have a lot to talk about, Saga. There are plenty of young men I have in mind to introduce you to when you get back home. Get this out of your system now. We’ll discuss it further in person,” my father snaps and the line goes dead.
I sigh and drop the phone back on the floor. I have a million thoughts going through my head. I should have known this would be a problem.
“Dating a white guy is going to be a problem?” Bishop says, causing my shoulders to tense even more.
I note that his body has tensed up as well. I’m quite sure he was able to decipher the nature of the call. However, I pray he didn’t hear my father’s words.
“It’s not that. It’s… can we not talk about this? We were having such a good time. I’ll deal with my father. He and my mom will have to realize I’m a grown woman, which will have to start with me acting like one.
“I can’t believe I was going to run back home. Just… just let me deal with my family. This is still new. We can wait to add all of that drama to the mix. For now, let’s see how this all works out.”
He’s silent for a moment. I look into his eyes and see a war going on. Giving a tight nod, he pecks my lips.
“I know what it’s like to have meddling parents. Just know that I’m committed to you. To us,” he says.
“Got it,” I say and kiss him back. “Now, about going out.”
“No,” he says simply, shutting me down.
“Fine.”
CHAPTER 18
Locked Away
Saga
I don’t know what I expected for this little break in between shows. However, Bishop has proven to be very attentive as a boyfriend. I’ve never been more pampered by a guy I’ve dated in my life.
The part that I love, while Bishop has the money to pay for me to go down to the hotel spa or to have someone come into the suite to provide the service, he has opted to be my service provider.
He’s given me a massage with oils and fed me chocolate-covered strawberries. He has run me a bath with bath salts and placed candles and scented oil diffusers around the room. The man even played the finished songs from the album, just for me, while I soaked in the tub.
It all sounds so different in the intimate space. I’ve heard every word so much differently. I can’t believe it will all change again once recorded in the studio. I can’t wait.
If he were anyone else, Isha would say he’s cheap and that’s why he didn’t pay someone to do any of the pampering. However, I know that’s not the case. Bishop genuinely wants to pamper me himself. He spent a ton of money on products to do this himself, not knowing what to get, so he bought everything.
He was adorable when he returned with his haul. Seeing his face is how I know it’s not about the money. Bishop genuinely wants to make sure I’m happy.
Like now, he has that same huge, goofy smile on his face as he returns to the bedroom with a huge bag in his hand. When he gets to the bed I’m sitting on, wrapped only in my robe with a pair of panties on, he turns the bag over and dumps it.
My mouth falls open as bottles of nail polish hit the mattress. There has to be a bottle in every shade. Did he buy every color in stock? I cover my mouth and laugh.
“Pick a color,” he croons.
“Bishop, seriously?”
“I want to paint your cute little toes. Yes, seriously.”
I tap my finger against my lip as if thinking of which color to pick. My gaze lands on a bottle of black, sparkly polish. Not my style, but I’m drawn to it.