Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy #2)

I hate that look on her face. I no longer want her to fear me like everyone else. It doesn’t bring me any satisfaction.

I close the door and lean against it, my arms crossed over my chest. Her attention follows my every movement as though anticipating that I’ll lash out in retaliation, and that realization banks the smoldering flames of my temper.

“Then by all means, let’s continue it now.”

Keira’s fear shifts to confusion, which is fine with me. While I don’t want her fear, I feel no guilt about keeping her off-balance. That means I have a chance to tip the scales in my favor.

She holds out the contract. “What is this?”

“I’m fairly certain you can read.”

Her brow furrows in frustration. “You know that’s not what I mean. Why would you give this to me?”

I swear, there has never been a more difficult woman to please. I keep my tone bored as I reply. “You’d rather not sell an extra six thousand cases a year? If that’s true, I’m sure the buyer could find an alternate—”

Keira cuts me off. “Of course I want to, but who the hell is buying them? And how did you arrange it?”

The muscle in my jaw flexes as I rein in the urge to shut down her interrogation. No one questions me like this. And I don’t know why the hell I let her.

The voice in my head calls bullshit. You know exactly why.

“The distributor caters to high-end liquor stores all over the country.”

“I’ve never heard the name before, and I know all of the big ones.”

“Not all of them, clearly.”

“Do you own it?”

I debate whether to lie, but what’s the point? “Yes.”

A grimace graces her features. She’s so frigging transparent with her facial expressions, and clearly not finished with her questions.

“Why would you do this? It doesn’t make any sense. There have to be strings attached. I’ve figured that much out when it comes to you.”

She’s not wrong. In my world, nothing is freely given. Everything comes with a price.

I break it down for her. “For the duration of the contract, you work directly with me. Not your assistant or a salesman. You.”

“So, it’s not a gift. Because if it were, there would be no strings.” She shakes the paper between us. “This is just another way for you to control me.” Her voice is quiet, and her words hit me like a gut punch.

She’s right. My first attempt to give her something I know she wants, and I fuck it up.

I snatch the contract out of her hand, pull a pen from my breast pocket, and take it over to the table. I scratch out the clause, initial it, and turn it back around.

“There.” I shove the agreement at her.

The line between Keira’s eyebrows deepens as her gaze darts between me and the document. “I don’t understand.”

My fingers crease the paper as my grip tightens on it. My jaw still tight, I reply with my final offer. “No strings and a healthy profit margin.”

I’m giving up all the leverage in this deal and receiving nothing from her in return, which feels beyond foreign.

Keira’s teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she reaches out to take the contract from me. Her every movement screams hesitation.

Because she doesn’t fucking trust you, I remind myself.

“There has to be something else. You don’t do anything that’s not calculated, and you certainly aren’t out to do me any favors.”

I want to point out the fact that there’s an extra five hundred grand in her checking account and her bank debts are paid, but I bite back the retort.

“Is it so hard to believe that I did it because it’s a good deal for Seven Sinners, which means it’s good for you?”

Her stubborn chin lifts another inch. “So, you’re patronizing me?”

I count to ten, my temper flaring again. I swear, this woman lives to test me. I attempt to do something helpful and she throws it back in my face . . . but only because I attached the golden handcuffs to it first.

I release a breath, my temper ebbing once more. “No. I’m not patronizing you.”

Keira gives me a short nod before gripping the contract tightly enough to crease the pages. Her chin stays high. “Then I’ll let you know if I have any other revisions to request before I sign.”

This woman . . . She has to learn that she can only push me so far before I will throw down the rules.

“This doesn’t go to your lawyer. That’s non-negotiable.”

Mistrust flares in her gaze once more. She wants to fight me on that point, but manages to keep it in. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But I’d be a shitty CEO if I didn’t review it in detail before I sign, and that’s not how I run my business.”

Her statement knocks something loose in me, altering my perception of the woman standing before me. Keira Kilgore, the CEO. Not Keira Kilgore, the woman I plan to own.

Another piece of Titan’s advice enters my mind. Listen. Figure out what she wants. Give it to her.

I can admit when someone else is right, and he nailed it.

The contract is a start, but I’ve got a long way to go.





Keira





My workday passes in what feels like a matter of minutes. When I leave the office, Temperance is still on the phone finalizing details for the Voodoo Kings event, and I give her a wave. She smiles and makes a shooing motion out the door.

Scar is waiting at the curb per usual, and I slide into the backseat of the car. We’ve dispensed with all the hood nonsense after my escape, so when he starts driving in the opposite direction as I expect, I question him, even though I know he’s not going to answer.

“Where are we going?”

His grunt of a response is all I get.

Thirty minutes later, we turn down the road to Lakefront Airport, and I’m even more confused.

“What’s going on?”

Scar drives directly to a private hangar and parks near the front glass doors. He exits the car and opens my door, then leads me inside. I barely get a look at the posh lounge area that looks nothing like the molded plastic seating of a commercial airport before he pushes open another glass door and we step onto a red carpet runner leading across the tarmac to the stairs of a large, sleek private jet.

Whoa.

I take in the black-and-gold aircraft, and although I know nothing about planes, I’m willing to bet it’s ridiculously expensive. There’s no name or logo indicating who owns it, but I only need one guess.

Scar nods toward the stairs, and I hesitate for a moment.

To fly on the private jet or not? It isn’t exactly a decision I thought I’d be making when I left Seven Sinners tonight. I can’t lie and say I’ve never wondered what it would be like to fly in one . . . but the thought of the man either already inside or en route keeps my feet glued to the red carpet.

What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like he hasn’t kidnapped me already. The fact that this is my logic and rationalization is absolutely insane, but that’s the impact Mount has had on my life.

The final thing that sways me is the contract from this morning. It was a gesture I still don’t understand, but I couldn’t find any more hidden traps in the legalese either.

Scar grunts from behind me, and I make my decision.