by Meghan March
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.”
“Then it makes sense why you’ve always wanted to come.”
I nod, a lump rising in my throat. “The original distillery went out of business when the whiskey market crashed, and my great-grandfather brought his family over during Prohibition. They ended up in New Orleans, and he started making bootleg whiskey because no one would hire him to do anything else.”
“It must be nice to know where you came from.”
I tear my gaze from the window and look at him, but Mount has already turned away. I recall the story I’ve heard about him, that he was abandoned as a baby in front of a church. I’ve always wondered if it’s true, and his statement makes me think it absolutely is.
“I googled you, you know.” I never intended to admit it, but it slips out.
He shifts, locking his attention on me again. “And?”
“There was nothing. Nothing at all. How is that even possible?”
“Money. Power. My desire for privacy. Other peoples’ fear.”
“Have you ever turned that money and power in the direction of finding your roots?”
His expression turns dark. “No, and I never will.”
“Why not?” I know I should leave it alone, and yet I can’t help but ask the question.
“Because who gave birth to me doesn’t have fuck-all to do with who I am or what I do.”
I let the topic lapse and stare out the window again, soaking up Dublin as we turn onto narrow streets before crossing the River Liffey. But my excitement is dampened by Mount’s answer.
I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to be abandoned. To know that your parents didn’t want you. My father always wanted a son and got three daughters instead, and it was bad enough knowing that growing up. But in comparison, my childhood was an absolute dream compared to Mount’s.
For the first time, when I look at his profile, I don’t see the devil in a suit who has the power to turn my body against me and mess with my head. Instead, I see a man who must have fought overwhelming odds to get to where he is today. I have no idea how he built the empire he rules, and I doubt the question would be well-received.
Who would have guessed that it only took one trans-Atlantic flight and a drive through the city I’ve dreamed of visiting my whole life to realize that Lachlan Mount isn’t a myth or a legend. He’s just a man. A dangerous one, certainly, but still just a man.
It changes nothing, I tell myself, but I’m not sure I believe it.
We reach the tall hotel with ornate Victorian architecture and are escorted immediately to a massive suite.
“Your luggage will be delivered directly, sir,” the concierge tells him as Mount hands him a large bill.
He carries euros? Between the jet and the service, I’m beginning to realize that regardless of the city or country we’re in, Mount’s life is completely different from mine.
Another thought occurs to me. “I have luggage?” He already shocked me by having my passport.
“Of course. G assembled a wardrobe for you and had it delivered to the jet before you arrived. I was assured that you’ll have everything you need, but if you don’t, you can buy it here.”
Mount’s posture stiffens as though he’s expecting an argument from me, but he’s way off base.
“Are you kidding? I’m in Dublin, a city I’ve wanted to see since I was a kid, and for a conference where I could learn things and make connections that can take Seven Sinners to the next level. I’m not going to waste time being picky about clothes when there’s so much to see and do. As long as he didn’t pack only lingerie, I couldn’t care less.”
Mount eyes me like I’ve grown a second head. “You are nothing like any other woman I’ve ever met.”
His expression turns unreadable, and I have no idea how to respond. Thankfully, a knock on the door puts a halt to that conversation.
After our luggage is delivered into the bedroom of the suite, the bellhop faces us. “Is there anything else you require, sir? We’re at your service.”
Mount turns to me. “What do you want to eat? You must be starving.”
It’s morning here, obviously, but to me it’s still the middle of the night. “I don’t know what meal we should be eating right now.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you want.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t care, that I’ll have whatever he’s having, but I stop myself. Mount’s giving me a choice. From the beginning, he’s offered so few of those, and this one stands out in stark relief.
“A Belgian waffle with butter and syrup, and a side of bacon.”
The bellhop nods, and Mount adds his order.
“Steak and eggs. And send up a bottle of every Irish whiskey you stock in the hotel bar.”
I give the bellhop credit, because he doesn’t look nearly as surprised by this request as I must. Again, Mount slides a large bill into the man’s hand before he leaves.
“What’s with the whiskey?”
Mount shoots me a sideways glance. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To learn and network as much as you can?”
He actually listened.
“Yes.”
“Then I figure a bottle of each of the whiskeys they have will help you start prepping all your questions for the CEOs of the competition.”
“Like they’ll even talk to me,” I say with a laugh. “When I said make connections, I was thinking more along the lines of suppliers and buyers. Small ones. My level. I’m not exactly the CEO of a multinational conglomerate yet. I’m still running a tiny operation that’s barely profitable.”
Mount closes the distance between us and stares down at me. “Don’t, for a single second, put yourself in a category beneath anyone here. Walk into this conference like you’re their equal, because you are. Your operation may be small now, but as you told me, you’re not a shitty CEO and you’re still just getting started. You want to rule the whiskey world? Then act like you already do.”
His words resonate within me, giving me a boost of confidence I didn’t realize I needed. “You don’t exactly strike me as the pep-talk type.”
His lips flatten. “I’m not.”
That comment hits me even harder, because it means his little speech was unique for me. Warmth curls in the vicinity of my chest.
“Thank you. For all of this. It means a lot to me.” I lift my lips to press a kiss to his square jaw, now dark with stubble. When I lower myself on my heels to back away, Mount snakes an arm around my waist, yanking me against his chest.
“So that’s what it takes. A trip to Ireland. Duly noted.”
I don’t have time to process his statement before his lips crash down on mine, his tongue stealing inside and taking over.
When he lifts me off my feet, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He carries me into the bedroom, and we land on the bed with a hard bounce. Mount’s weight presses against me as I bury my hands in his hair.
I tell myself it’s gratitude fueling my actions, but I refuse to look deeper.
Mount tears the blouse from my body, sending buttons flying. He has my skirt shoved up around my waist when a knock comes at the outer door of the suite.
“Shit. The food,” I say on a harsh breath.
“Fuck the food.”
“That works for me.”
We both ignore the continued knocking, and the subsequent phone ringing, in favor of devouring each other.
For the first time, the power stru
ggle doesn’t take precedence. This is something different. Something . . . more daunting.
I push the disturbing thought away as Mount frees his cock and shoves my panties to the side, finding me already wet. He never breaks my stare as he pushes inside, slowly this time, burying himself inch by inch. When he’s fully seated, he growls a single word in my ear.
“Mine.”
It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard him say, because I’m starting to believe him.
Mount
Keira missed registration. Mostly due to the fact that we fell asleep and I woke her up with my head between her legs, teasing her clit with her new jewelry.
I sent a request down to the hotel staff to retrieve any necessary information from registration, and that gave us a few more hours, during which I didn’t let her out of bed. At least, not until both of us decided that food was imperative.
When Keira walks into the cocktail party that evening, I follow a half step behind her, using my height to survey the crowd for threats while keeping my face impassive. My little hellion took my words to heart and shows no hesitation or uncertainty, holding herself like a queen in this male-dominated room.
Heads swivel as she strolls through the crowd, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the designer dress she’s wearing. She’s magnetic. Vibrating with energy.
“They’re all wondering who you are,” I tell her as we order drinks at the bar. Whiskey neat for both of us, made by the company with the biggest share of the whiskey market.
“More like they’re wondering who you are,” she whispers.
“Care to make a wager?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not against you. I have a feeling you always win.”
“You’re finally catching on.”
We turn and survey the room, each sipping our whiskey. I can’t see into her head, but I’m willing to bet she’s scanning for familiar faces and devising a plan of attack.
A smile attempts to quirk my mouth because I’m doing the same.
Thankfully, there’s no one in this crowd I recognize—at least, not yet. There’s no doubt my reach extends far beyond New Orleans, and while I have a large stake in the liquor distribution business, my CEO is the public face of the company. I only manage as necessary from behind the scenes. He’s here somewhere, but if he values his position, he’ll heed the warning I sent before we left that I’m not to be approached.
This week is an anomaly for me. I don’t have to be Lachlan Mount, the man whose brutality inspires fear and respect. This week, I can be whoever the hell I want. There’s a certain allure that anonymity presents, and I embrace it. As Keira engages with suppliers, distributors, and competitors, I step back, letting her take center stage. She transforms from the defiant, stubborn female I’ve been determined to bend to my will into an impressively shrewd and intelligent businesswoman.
This isn’t a shock to me, by any means. I’ve been watching her for long enough to know this is the case, but I’ve never had the opportunity to see her in action, up close and personal.
As she mingles, each person she speaks with is captivated by her, and I’m nothing but an afterthought.
What does shock me, however, is how liberated I feel.
Back in our suite later, Keira splashes whiskey into two glasses and hands me one.
“Sláinte,” she says, raising hers to clink against the rim of mine. I repeat the toast back to her as she lifts the tumbler to her lips, draining it in a single drink.
“No savoring?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not as good as Seven Sinners. Not many are.”
From anyone else, it would sound like a boast, but from Keira, it’s a simple fact. She believes in her product down to her bones.
Maybe more than I’ve ever believed in anything.
She opens another bottle and pours a small measure into a new glass.
“It still amazes me that you can drink so much for someone your size.”
Keira lifts this glass to her nose and sniffs. “Mother’s milk, I guess. It’s in my blood. I’ve been drinking whiskey nearly my whole life. God, if social services had a clue I was tasting at eight years old, I’m sure my parents would’ve been all over the news.”
Her remark turns my thoughts to all my run-ins with social services, and then all the time I spent avoiding them. “I’m sure they had more pressing cases to worry about.”
She nods, completely absorbed in tasting the whiskey, and misses the darker edge of my statement. She shoots a genuine smile at me, which does a better job chasing away the demons of my past than the entire fifth of liquor would.
“Thank you. Especially for tonight. I . . . I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” Sincere gratitude rings with each word.
“I didn’t do anything.”
She shakes her head. “That’s just it. I honestly thought we would step into that room and you would take over. That I’d be the one standing in silence while you commanded their attention.”
“That’s not why we’re here.” It bothers me that she thinks I’d steal this experience from her, but what evidence have I given her to expect anything else from me?
Keira doesn’t hesitate to call me on it. “I know, but that’s who you are. I didn’t think you were capable of not taking over.” She pauses, her top teeth digging into her bottom lip before releasing it. “I misjudged you, and I’m not too proud to admit it.”
I reach for a random bottle and splash another three fingers into my glass. “Don’t start giving me credit for qualities I don’t have.” Her first impression of me is much closer to the truth. I toss the whiskey back as carelessly as she did. Maybe getting drunk tonight isn’t a bad idea.
“Stop. Please. This is important to me, and I’m going to get it out whether you want to hear it or not.”
I lower the glass to the bar with a nod and cross my arms over my chest to wait.
“You were different. This was different. I . . .” She trails off again for a beat. “I hate talking about him. Especially now.” Her gaze drops to the floor.
When she says him, a rumble of possession roars through me. I spit his name out so she doesn’t have to. “Hyde, you mean?”
She nods.
“What about him?” My tone sharpens with each word dealing with the subject of the man. I hold myself stiff, wondering what comparison she’s going to make between us, knowing it can’t possibly be in my favor.
“He had to be the center of attention, have the most say in any conversation. I was the one who grew up in that distillery like it was my second home, and he’d been there for all of five minutes before his ego was nearly too big to fit through the door. I was the CEO, but he marginalized me at every opportunity. We were supposed to be a team. That’s what he promised me. But he didn’t understand the first thing about teamwork.”
My hands curl into fists. I wish I’d killed the fucker personally, because obviously he did more damage to her than I realized.
“Hyde was a low-level con, through and through. You weren’t equipped to see it coming.”
“Maybe not, but I was dumb enough to fall for it,” she says, blinking back tears.
Hoping Saxon made that piece of shit suffer, I hold up a hand to stop her. “You didn’t stand a chance, and I’m not insulting you when I say that.”
Keira turns away, lifting both hands to her face, and I imagine she’s wiping away tears. Tears that motherfucker is still causing from the grave. This ends now.
I wrap a hand around her arm and turn her to face me. “Stop. He doesn’t deserve another fucking second of your time, let alone another tear.”
“I just feel so stupid. And then I’m barely free of him and you swoop in, probably because you realized I’m such a fucking idiot and an easy mark. I didn’t stand a chance against you either, did I?”
I release her and drop my hands to my sides, consciously flexing my fingers out from the fists they instinctively curl into.
I lower my voice, but
every word is perfectly clear. “Don’t fucking compare me to that piece of shit. I am not Brett Hyde.”
Another tear tips over her lid, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to cup the side of her face. She flinches as I touch her, and I hate causing that reaction. I swipe a thumb beneath her lid and catch the next one that falls.
“I don’t need to overshadow you in your element. This is your world. I expect you to go out there and conquer it.”
She sniffles and brushes away the remainder of the tears—and my hand. She doesn’t realize I never offer comfort, and having it rejected is a sharp jab into a raw spot I didn’t know I had.
I step back, gripping the bar with both hands, and wait for her to lift her gaze back to mine. When she does, I tell her the absolute truth.
“And no, you didn’t stand a chance against me. I always get what I want.”
Keira
I don’t know if Mount’s last statement is meant to rile me up, but that’s exactly what it does. I offered him honesty, and he responded with dominance. Like always.
So I’ll give him what he expects from me. Attitude.
“And what do you want right now, Mount?” I stress his name because, for a moment, he seemed like a man I could confide in, and now he’s the arrogant bastard I’ve faced since the beginning.
“What I’ve wanted since the beginning. You.”
His hand moves at lightning speed, snatching mine and pulling me against him. I can’t miss the hard bulge shielded by the thin material of his suit pants as he turns me in a circle.
“So, this whole act tonight was just to get me into bed?” I look up at him in defiance and watch his eyes narrow and his expression darken.
“I don’t need an act for that. You’ve already agreed to all my terms. Whenever I want, and willing.”
My jaw clenches at his reminder. “Do they teach classes for that kind of arrogance, or were you born with it?”