Page 10 of The Gift

“I hate that everyone feels the need to shove Christmas down our throats,” Bishop says, glaring at the little tree in the corner.

I can’t help but laugh at his facial expression. “Sorry,” I say when he gives me a dirty look. “I always thought I was bad about Christmas, but you’re definitely worse than me.”

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“My stepfather was a piece of work,” I say by way of explanation. “My mom married him when I was four and she died when I was eight. They were in a car accident on Christmas Eve. He was drunk. He was always drunk. After the accident, he always tried to celebrate the holiday, but I never got over it. It didn’t help matters that he was touchy.”

“He hurt you?” Bishop asks angrily.

“Not really. It was just little touches here and there,” I say. “I ran away before it could become anything more and the traffickers found me.”

“Fuck. You’ve had a rough go of it,” he says, sadness tinting his words.

“Other people have had it worse. I got lucky. The Cammareri’s found us, me and nine other girls, before we were taken out of the country. It could have been much worse.”

“And now you work for them to repay the debt?”

“Not at all. They wanted to take me home. When they found out about my stepfather, they took care of him, put me through high school, gave me a new home, and a job.” I sigh loudly. “They want me to be part of their family, but I don’t belong.”

Chapter Eight

Bishop

I feel her words in my soul. It’s hard when people want to welcome you into their lives, but you don’t belong. It’s like we are kindred spirits, accidentally crossing paths before each going our own way once more.

“How old are you?” I ask instead of telling her my truth.

“Twenty-two. You?”

“Shit. You’re still a baby,” I say softly.

“And what? You’re an old man?”

“I’m thirty-five,” I say, chuckling at her sarcasm. “So compared to you, I am old.”

“With age comes wisdom,” she says with a wicked smile.

“You mean prowess?”

“Stop thinking with your dick.” She laughs, pushing at my shoulder. “I meant that you know what you want out of life, where you want to be.”

“Not really,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve always just done what was expected of me. My father, my prez, my club. I’m good at following orders.”

“Can I ask about your dad?”

“Are we getting to know each other?”

“Well,” she muses. “I did offer to let you fuck me however and whenever you wanted. I think it would be a good idea to know the man who sticks his dick in me.”

“It didn’t bother you a few hours ago?”

“That was before we skipped the condom.”

Shit. I didn’t think she realized.

“I’m clean.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” se says softly. “I just wanted to talk.”