by Meghan March
“Write up a press release. Tell the news outlets that the Spirit of New Orleans will be released in a limited and exclusive launch very soon, and we’ll be sending them bottles in advance so they can write reviews themselves.” I pause. “Tell Jeff Doon that we’re making arrangements based on best practices I learned at a distillery that conducts tours in Dublin, and as soon as we have all safety measures in place, we’ll be ready to launch. Also tell him that we’ll expect him to coordinate with the press so they’re the first to experience New Orleans’ latest attraction.”
“I like it, boss. Making all the notes.”
“Okay. Distributors—make sure they get the same press release, and tell them we’ll start taking their orders in advance, but we’ll expect partial payment to hold them as we expect to sell out of the first batches in a very short time.”
“Ohhh. Ruthless. That’s even better.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I’ve learned from the best, but I hold it in. Instead, I take another moment to acknowledge how much Lachlan has changed me. The confidence I’ve gained in myself and my authority isn’t a coincidence. He made me believe in myself, and that was just another chink in the walls that came crashing down from around my heart. I smile, feeling more like a CEO than I have since the day the desk in the basement became mine.
Which brings me to the next issue.
“I’ll deal with Dad myself. I don’t want him, my mom, or my sisters coming here under any circumstances.”
Temperance goes quiet on the other end of the call. “Does this have to do with the other things you need to tell me?”
For a moment, I wonder at the wisdom of divulging what I’m about to share, but Temperance needs to be prepared. Based on what I know about Lachlan Mount, as long as there’s a threat out there against him that could potentially spill over to me, there’s no way he’s going to let me go back to living my normal, or even a semi-normal, life.
“Yes. And I need you to swear on whatever you consider holy that this goes in the double vault. Sharing anything I tell you could quite literally cost you your life.”
Temperance is silent for several long moments instead of brimming with the questions I expected her to shoot at me rapid fire. If I were her, I’d ask if I was calling from the mental health ward of the hospital and whether that’s why she’s been unable to contact me, but Temperance doesn’t. Instead, she surprises me.
“I know you think that life is all black and white, Keira, but for some of us, gray is a lot more accurate. Whatever you’re going to tell me won’t go beyond us. I know plenty of things that could already land me in a crypt, and I know how to keep my mouth shut. This isn’t the first time my life, or the life of someone I love, has depended on it.”
Her answer may be nothing like I expect, but it’s everything I need to hear.
“Someday, you’re going to tell me what that means, but we don’t have time right now.”
“Agreed, boss. Let’s get to what matters.”
“I’m not going to be coming into the office for a little while.”
“Now you’re really making me wish we had a code word for situations where you’ve been kidnapped.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that, and my body twinges in protest. “Yeah, we probably do need a code word, but not today. I had a bit of an accident, and there’s a security threat—”
Temperance interrupts, her tone panicked. “Accident? Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine, but . . . the consequences of the accident are further reaching than just me. I can’t tell you everything, except that I need you to step up and be my new COO. You need to handle business in person while I work remotely.”
A harshly indrawn breath is her first response. “I’m reading between the lines here, Keira, and I don’t like it.”
I swallow, blocking out the aches in my body, determined to handle this like the boss I am. “I’m safe, and I’m certain that nothing is going to happen to me. But in order for that to continue to be the truth, I need you to do exactly what I tell you.”
“Okay. I’ll drop the questions. I know less is more. Tell me what you need me to do.”
I spend another five minutes giving Temperance her marching orders, along with the raise I promised her. “It’ll show up in your next check.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I don’t care that Lachlan’s money will be funding the raise temporarily, because Seven Sinners is about to level up in the whiskey world, thanks to the very same man. Or am I just stepping up to finally be the leader he made me realize I am? Another shift.
“I’ve got what I need. Except . . . can I tell you to be careful? I know you’re not giving me everything, but I’m picking up enough to realize that you’re in some serious shit. And if it has to do with what I think, please make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve got this, but thank you.”
She’s quiet for another moment. “Okay. You better call your dad.”
“That’s up next. Thank you for listening . . . and reading between the lines.”
“I still want a code word for kidnapping.”
“I promise I’ll throw in something about chardonnay or prosecco.”
A laugh bursts from Temperance. “Then I’ll really know you’re in deep shit.”
“Exactly.”
When we hang up, I stare down at the phone, wondering how the hell I’m going to handle the next call.
Mount
“Where the hell is she!”
When I open my eyes and see the bed next to me empty and the unhooked IV line dangling from the pole, I’m not too proud to say I lose my shit.
The door bursts open, and Z and D rush inside.
“Where is she?” I demand, and both men recognize the quiet menace in my voice.
“With V. She needed to make a few calls. Business. Family.”
My first instinct is to bend her over my lap and spank her ass for leaving without telling me, but I rein it in. A little. Leopards don’t change their spots.
“Where?”
“Upstairs, because we’re still under lockdown in here with no signal. Your order, boss.”
V knows the penalty for anything happening to Keira on his watch would be death, and the man has proven his willingness to die for me. I expect he would do no less for her.
“Get her back down here now.”
“But, boss. Ms. Kilgore told us we couldn’t leave you unguarded. She said . . .”
When Z trails off, I prompt him to continue. “What did Ms. Kilgore say?”
“That she’d kill us both herself if we left you unattended.”
A smile tugs on my lips. The fact that Keira is now giving my employees orders comes as a surprise. Part of me wasn’t completely certain that the things she said to me earlier weren’t a product of drugs, adrenaline, and shock, but it seems that I was wrong. Keira is stepping into a role I wasn’t sure she’d accept, and she’s doing it without any prompting on my part.
“And you believed her.”
Both men nod. “She meant it, sir.”
I let the smile free. My little hellion.
“Send someone up to let her know her presence has been requested.”
The door, still partially cracked, opens the rest of the way.
“My presence has been requested? That sounds awfully official.”
Even in a scrub top the color of a Smurf and two sizes too big, Keira still has the bearing of a queen. She gives the men a nod and they leave the room, shutting the door behind them as she comes toward the side of her bed closest to mine.
“Did you handle what you needed to handle?”
“Yes. As much as I could. I’ve delegated a lot to Temperance. She’s COO in my absence, and I guilt-tripped my father—without remorse, I might add—into not coming until I’m ready for him to come.”
The mention of her father stops me cold. “Now is not a good time for your family
to be in the city.”
“I know. And they’re not coming. Do you still have someone who can protect them? All of them?”
“Yes. They’ll be under protection until I give an order for that protection to cease. Which I have no intention of doing. I made you a promise, and I’ll keep it.”
Keira pauses between our beds. I can tell she’s running low on energy after walking around. I may be able to power through pain, but that’s because I’ve never had a choice. She should never have to.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that.” I reach out and snag her hand. “Come here.” I gently bring her closer as I move over in my bed, ignoring the pain of the gunshot wound.
“I won’t fit.”
“Bullshit.”
Her mouth screws up into a stubborn expression, but she comes anyway, and we both get as comfortable as the bed will allow. Keira’s face is inches from mine when I speak again.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me, and here I am, waking up alone.”
“Emergency. I made sure you were covered.”
I shake my head. “That’s not your job.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”
“It’s different.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what got us into this mess, but I do know that I’m riding it out with you.”
Us. The word reverberates in my chest. I’ve never been part of an us. But the way she says it, and the way she has stepped up when the stakes are the highest, makes me realize that this is the only woman who could possibly stand at my side.
“You can order my employees around, but never to the detriment of your own safety. That is a hard limit.”
“Fine,” she says with obvious reluctance.
“I have another deal for you.”
Her hand curls into mine, and I’m addicted to how she touches me so easily and voluntarily. “I’m ready to hear your terms, Lachlan.”
I smile again at her use of my name, something I’m doing altogether too often for my own comfort, but maybe someday I’ll get used to my lips curving upward. Or I could just make the streets run with more blood and call it balance.
“Terms. Unless I’m unavailable, unconscious, or in peril, I deliver orders to my employees.” When her mouth opens like she wants to protest, I continue before she can get a word out. “But I will make it clear that any order from you carries the same weight as one from me.”
Her lips press together for a beat before she responds. “I can handle that.”
“Second, if I tell you to do something for your own safety, you do it immediately. I think you realize that life-and-death situations are not out of the ordinary if you’re part of my life.”
“Understood.”
Her lack of argument or debate pumps a new feeling into my chest. Hope for the future.
“Finally . . . I still call the shots in the bedroom.”
Keira lifts her chin in that stubborn gesture I’ve grown accustomed to.
“Are you going to lie and tell me you don’t love it?”
She shakes her head. “No. But every once in a while, I get to take control.”
“We’ll see about that.”
This time, a sly smile crosses her face.
“One more thing.”
“What?” she asks, her tone edged with amusement.
“Kiss me.”
She bites her lip and leans in, skimming her mouth across mine, and I answer her with an equally light response. When I pull away, it’s with the taste of her on my tongue.
“You’re not giving any of those orders until you’re healed,” she says.
“When you’re healed,” I say, correcting her.
“Deal.”
I inhale and release a long, slow breath. I don’t want to change the subject, but it’s time. Before I let myself get drunk on her and the possibilities of the future, I need to answer her questions and tell her the truth.
It’s time to show Keira just how black my soul is, and see if she’s going to run in the other direction.
Which is exactly what she should do.
Keira
“Now’s the time to ask your questions.”
Lachlan’s change of subject after our negotiation is jarring, and I’m trying to figure out why he’s pushing it. But I don’t ask. I have a feeling I already know the answer.
This is a test. The one that will determine whether I hold tight to my new realizations and the position I’m ready to claim, or whether I run screaming from the room.
At this point, I’m fairly certain if I demanded it, he would free me from our bargain. Something has shifted in him too. I feel it.
“Are you afraid I’m going to run when you answer them?” I ask.
“Is that your first question?” His tone is dry, but I hear the underlying message.
“Preliminary. Just want to make sure I understand why you’re pushing this.”
Lachlan’s dark eyes bore into mine. “Make no mistake, Keira. I’m not a good man. If you’re expecting a virtuous answer to any question you have, you’re going to be disappointed. Your first impression of me will always be the most accurate.”
His statement dredges up that first impression I had of him in my office. There was fear, but there was also more. He commanded every bit of my attention, putting my entire body on edge. His reputation terrified me, but he exuded an energy that sucked me in before I even knew I was in danger.
Actually, that wasn’t even my first impression of him. Because that happened before I knew who he was. The night of the masquerade. The night he changed the course of my life, and I was clueless about it.
My true first impression of Lachlan Mount was—this is the man I’ve been waiting for my whole life, and the one I want to keep in it forever.
So, no matter what he throws at me, I’ll be holding on tight to that memory and all of the things he’s done since to prove I was right.
“I can handle that,” I tell him without hesitation.
“Then ask away.”
It’s almost like he’s daring me to falter in my resolve, which just makes me more stubborn. Maybe it’s reverse psychology. Maybe it’s another mind-fuck. But I don’t think so. I’m pretty certain this is Lachlan opening up as much as he’s capable of doing.
“Okay. Then let’s start with an easy one. Did you pay my husband to disappear and fake his death?”
There’s no remorse when he replies. “Yes, but you already knew that.”
“Did you kill him?”
Lachlan goes quiet, and I wonder if he’s going to answer. After a few beats, he does.
“I’m never going to tell you whether or not I killed someone. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I’ll never put you in the position of having to bear that weight on your conscience, or be asked to testify about something I’ve said.”
I chew on my lip because it’s not the answer I expected at all. I figured it would be a cut-and-dried yes. But this answer is much more complex. His response is as honest as I could ask for, and somehow makes me feel safer than if he replied like I expected.
That’s when it hits me—Lachlan Mount isn’t just protecting my body. He’s trying to protect my soul from the sins that stain his own.
A wave of emotion rushes over me as I absorb the realization. He says he’s not a good man, but he’s miles better than the one I just asked if he killed. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. But I do need to know if Brett is coming back or whether he’s gone for good. I need that finality. I need to know I can move forward without fear of my past coming back to haunt me again.
“Keira?” he says, his prompt telling me I’ve been quiet longer than I realized. “Are we stopping at question one?”
I shake my head the slightest bit. “No. I’m just . . . thinking.”
“And?”
“I have to know if he’ll ever be coming back. I don’t need details. I just need closure.”
>
Lachlan’s face is solemn as he replies. “You never have to worry about him ever again.”
My insides are already a maelstrom of new emotions and realizations, and this adds a healthy dose of relief to the mix.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He looks surprised at my response. “Why would you thank me for that?”
“Because I never want to see his face again for as long as I live.”
“You never will. Next question.”
We’re both quiet for several moments while I decide what to ask next. When it comes down to it, there’s one question I haven’t been able to reconcile at all.
The night I decided he was the only man for me, the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life, I still can’t piece it together in my brain how that could have happened. It seems like fate stepped in, but I need to know the truth.
“How did you get my note the night of the masquerade?” When I first learned that it was Lachlan and not Brett, I cut him deeply when I lashed out, and that’s not my intent here at all. But still, I have to know.
“It’s not a how so much as a who,” he answers carefully, and the possibilities riot in my head, my anxiety growing with every second that passes.
“Who?”
“Magnolia Maison.”
Mount
When Keira’s face drains of all color, I wish I’d been able to keep this knowledge from her, but I promised her no more lies. Besides, this is something she needs to know, regardless of how much I’d like to protect her from the feeling of betrayal no doubt charging through her system right now.
“Magnolia gave you the note? How? Why? I don’t understand why she’d do that. You said you thought I was a gift. It doesn’t make any sense.”
I wish I had better answers for her, but I haven’t had Magnolia brought in to get them. “I don’t know what her motives were, but she definitely had one.”
“But—”
Stricken. That’s the only way I can describe Keira’s face. I thread my fingers through hers and squeeze, not taking a chance that this could be a wedge driven between us.