Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy #1)

His eyes narrow. “With your debt load? Mortgaged to the hilt? You’re lucky I’d be willing to take it on and keep it running rather than shut it down and sell those stills for scrap.”

The thought of Seven Sinners being dismantled sends another wave of fury washing over me. “Don’t you f*cking think about touching my company. I’ll never let you have it.” My reply can’t be called anything but a sneer . . . except maybe for stupid.

I expect him to rage at me in burning anger, but he smiles smugly instead.

“I’ll think about touching whatever I want.” He pulls a pen from his other breast pocket. “But if you sign this, you can walk away without me touching every curve of your body until I know it better than my own. Without me sucking on those pouty pink nipples. Without me burying my hand in your wild mane of hair and using it to pin you down while I f*ck that perfect peach of an ass until you scream my name.”

I struggle to draw in a ragged breath as he lays both the sheet of paper and the pen on the table like a dare. The lamplight illuminates the title of yet another legal document whose only purpose is to ruin my life.



* * *



Complete and Irrevocable Assignment of Ownership Interest





* * *



Even as the fire he started rages through my body, I hate him.

Hate.

It’s not a word I truly understood until just now. But by putting me in this impossible position, he’s made me understand it too well. The feeling is visceral, twisting my stomach in rage strong enough to douse the flames.

“You know I won’t sign that. Seven Sinners is mine. A Kilgore has run it for four generations, and I won’t be the one to let it leave the family.”

His smug expression morphs into burning heat. “The only way Seven Sinners stays yours is by you becoming willingly mine. Complete, voluntary submission. This is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it, Keira. You won’t receive a more generous one from me, and you sure as hell won’t receive any offers from anyone else.”

I can’t even look at his smug face, so I spin around and begin to pace. f*ck being naked. He already knows he owns me.

“That’s not even a real choice, you bastard. Anyone who knows me could give you my answer in a second. I believe in my family. Our legacy. Our whiskey. Our tradition. My employees.” My voice shakes as I seal my own fate and spin around to face him. “I won’t sign it. You win.”

I want to see the triumph on his face so I can use it to fuel my hate later when I allow him to defile my body.

His dark eyes rake over me with the heat of victory. He reaches for the sheet of paper and tears it in half, letting both pieces fall to the floor.

“I knew I wouldn’t need this.”

That bastard. He played me. Gave me a glimmer of hope and crushed it.

Mount crouches to grab the trench coat off the floor and tosses it at me. “Cover yourself up. You’re now the property of Lachlan Mount, and I expect you to act like it. Get those words off your skin before I see you again. I don’t want to read those lies while I f*ck you from behind.”

Property. That’s how he views me. As a toy to be owned and used.

I catch the coat and jam my arms through the sleeves, buttoning it up and knotting the belt tight. This time, I keep my attention glued to the floor.

His polished black leather shoes come into view as his fingertips grip my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “Your orgasms belong to me. If you ever touch yourself without my permission, I will spank that p*ssy of yours until you’re begging to come.”

What kind of barbaric—

I yank my chin from his grip, no longer caring about my personal safety. He’s already staked his claim. What else could possibly happen? Besides, if he thinks I’m going to make this easy . . .

I stride in the direction of the far bookshelf-covered wall, because I do my best ranting while pacing.

“You don’t get to be the only one making the rules here. I have stipulations. No one can know. My family. My employees. No one. I don’t ever want my name linked to yours.”

I don’t pause to consider the intelligence of what I’m saying, because I’m too pissed to hold back the rest. Furious, I spin and walk in the other direction, keeping my gaze on anything but Lachlan Mount, at least until I’ve finished making my demands.

“We decide on a mutual time and place to meet. No more of this driver and being collected and hooded. I refuse. You won’t leave marks. You won’t hurt me. And you sure as hell aren’t going to make me disappear when this is all over, because I swear my family and friends will never let you get away with it.”

I spin on my stiletto to see just how angry my speech made him . . . and find myself standing in an empty room.

He’s gone.

The bastard left? Just like that. Not one f*cking word from him?

That motherf*cker. I clench my teeth so hard, my jaw aches.

In my anger, I bolt toward the torn paper on the floor and snatch it up. Holding the two pieces together, I read the words beneath the large, bolded title.



* * *



Keira Kilgore will never sign the rights to her company over to Lachlan Mount because she is stubborn, bullheaded, and entirely too loyal to the concept of family tradition. And what’s more, he doesn’t need her business establishment because he will own her.





* * *



That lying piece of shit.

He didn’t offer me a real way out.

Or he knows me well enough to realize it would never be a viable option. That possibility might be even scarier. I contemplate the deal I’ve made with the devil.

What choice do I have? How can I face my father and tell him I lost the company his father and his father’s father before him built with blood, sweat, and sacrifice?

My body in exchange for my pride. That’s the deal I’ve struck.

I hate Lachlan Mount.

Even his name sends bolts of heat through me, spawned from wrath unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I hate how he makes me feel.

I hate that my body responds to him.

As the fireplace spins again and Scar returns with the black hood, the voice in my head whispers one more truth.

I hate that I want him to touch me again.





Mount





I don’t need to picture the rage on her face when she reads the bullshit legal document I had prepared for our meeting. It’s evident on the monitor on my desk as she crushes it in her clenched fists.

Keira Kilgore was an easy mark. Full of righteous indignation and a fire I’ll enjoy having beneath me.

It amuses me that she thought she could make demands. Grown men with brass balls the size of boulders wouldn’t dare. That’s why she’s a fascination. An oddity.

That’s all she is.

Entertainment. A piece of property to amuse me for a short time.

I want her willing. I refuse to let it be any other way.

Even defiant and angry, she responded to me like an instrument to a savant. I’ll tame that fire. Bend her to my will.

My dick hardens for what seems like the dozenth time tonight as I picture her submitting to my every command.

That ass.

Those tits.

That tight little cunt.

Property of no man? Bullshit.

Keira Kilgore is mine.





Keira