Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy #2)

Screw it.

With measured steps, I cross the red carpet and reach the plane. I balance my shoe on the first stair, grip the rails, and climb up into the cabin.

The interior matches everything else of Mount’s—black, gold, and white.

Mount is seated in one of the plush black leather seats with a laptop open on the table in front of him. He looks up as I enter.

“What’s going on?”

He closes the laptop and stands. “We’re going out.”

“Like on a date?” Disbelief hangs from every word.

Mount jerks a chin toward the leather seat across from his. “Sit. I’ll tell the captain we’re ready for takeoff.”

I lower myself into the chair, trying to figure out what the hell his game is this time. First the contract this morning, and now this? What’s his angle?

Mount returns momentarily, and the cabin seems to shrink now that the door is closed and we’re locked inside. His presence does that to me all too often.

“Where are we going?” I ask, desperate to keep my mind off the fact that the aircraft begins to move.

I grip the arms of the seat, my knuckles turning white as the statistics about the crashes of private planes versus commercial flights run through my head. We taxi to the end of a runway, turn, and jerk into forward motion as the jet picks up speed.

Oh shit. What are my parents going to think when they find out I died with him?

The thought is ridiculous, but logic isn’t exactly on my side right now. I’m nearly hyperventilating as the jet hurtles down the runway.

“Keira, look at me.”

Mount’s deep voice snaps me out of my panic, and I meet his gaze.

“What?”

When he unclips his seat belt, I want to yell at him to put it back on, but he moves to the chair beside me before I’m capable of forming the sentence.

“Are you afraid of flying?” he asks, and I’m too freaked out to appreciate the concern in his tone.

I shake my head rapidly. I know better than to admit weakness, especially to him.

“Then why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”

I break his stare and look out the window. Oh, sweet Jesus. We’re almost off the ground. Bad idea.

Mount reaches out to cup my cheek, bringing my gaze back to his. “Listen to me. You’re fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Because I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I swallow at his admission, and my stomach flips. I’m not sure whether it’s because of this latent fear of flying clawing through me, or because of Mount’s penetrating stare. Maybe both.

I force myself to relax, muscle by muscle, until my spine curves into the leather cushion. “I forgot. You have a vested interest in making sure nothing does, because then who would pay the debt I owe?”

His thumb strokes my cheek, and I tense again at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“At some point, you’re going to realize this is about far more than a simple debt.” Mount’s voice is low, but his words send my anxiety soaring.

“What do you mean?”

He finally releases his hold on my face and turns toward the empty seats opposite us, crossing an ankle over one knee. He doesn’t look at me when he replies.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.”





Mount





I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times Keira asks where we’re going, and each time I refuse to tell her, her frustration grows.

When we hit the four-hour mark on the flight, her attitude spikes. “You better plan on getting me back on time for work tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid that’s not happening, but your assistant has been notified to expect your absence and cover for you.”

“You told her? She can’t know about this.” Keira’s tone is sheer panic. It’s no surprise she doesn’t want anyone to know of her connection to me, but the fact still irritates me.

“No. She received an email from you explaining.”

Keira’s eyes widen. “How? You better not have hacked my freaking email. That’s just—”

“Easy?” I supply the correct adjective.

“You can’t do that! Tell the pilot to turn the plane around right now.”

“The fact that you still think you can give me orders never ceases to amaze me.”

Her temper rises, and fire burns in her gaze. “If you think taking me to some private island is going to somehow make me easier to control, you’ve completely misjudged me.”

If I hadn’t had that conversation with Lucas Titan, I might have thought of doing something like that, but his words made a sizeable impact.

“It is an island.”

“You—”

Before Keira can unleash whatever expletives she’s planning, I pull a file from beneath my laptop and drop it in her lap. She flips it open and stares down at it before jerking her shock-filled gaze up to mine.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. “We’re going to Dublin? To the Global Whiskey and Spirts Conference? Please tell me this isn’t a joke, because it wouldn’t be funny.”

I raise an eyebrow. I’m not the joking type.

Keira’s eyes look like they might bug out of her head. “Holy shit.”

She drops the file that contains the doodled-on brochure I stole off her desk the first night I made myself at home in her office. She covers her face with both hands before bringing them together in a prayer-like position in front of her nose.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say. This is . . . definitely not what I expected.” She closes the file and continues to speak. “I’ve literally wanted to go to GWSC since I was old enough to know what it was.”

I shrug, barely restraining my triumphant grin. “Well, now you’re going.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Her gaze meets mine, and there’s something in it I’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at me. A mix of awe, gratitude, and something else . . . Joy, I think.

“Then don’t.”

She shakes her head. “No. I have to.” She pauses, pressing her lips together. “Thank you. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but . . . thank you.”





Keira





I jerk awake in Mount’s arms as he settles me into the backseat of a car. “Where are we?”

“Dublin. You missed the rest of the flight. Also, you snore.”

My mouth drops open. “I do not.”

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. “You do at altitude and when you’re drunk.”

The driver closes the door and I shoot Mount a glare, but it’s impossible to keep it in place as the car pulls away from an airport and onto the streets leading into Dublin.

Giddiness fills me. I’ve wanted to come here my whole life. This is the city and the country where my family comes from, where our whiskey was born. This is my heritage. My roots. I still can’t believe the man beside me is the one who finally made it happen.

“I’m really here,” I whisper as I stare out the window, taking in all the wonderful sights as we near the city. It’s early morning, and the city is coming to life for the day.

“Where does your family come from in Ireland?” Mount asks.

“Here. Dublin.”