Page 60 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
I swing around and all the heat humming through my body freezes. “You lied to me.”
His only answer is a dismissive shrug.
“You—”
He interrupts me before I can curse him. “From now on, every time you call me an asshole, a bastard, or any other slur, or tell me you hate me, I’m going to put you over my knee or bend you over the nearest flat surface. I’ll either spank your ass or your pussy, or fuck one of them. No one speaks to me like that without repercussions, and you just got your last free pass.”
I swallow the insult that’s on my tongue, wondering how in the hell I’m going to manage not to swear at him or tell him I hate him. He makes me so goddamned angry, I can’t control my own responses.
No one has ever had that kind of power over me, and I hate that he does.
I square my shoulders and stand as tall as my frame allows. “You can’t control everything.”
He rises from the chair. “And you’ve never been more wrong. Get your coat. You wouldn’t want to be late for your meeting.”
I snatch it off the floor where I dropped it, and shove my arms into it.
“That thing is ugly as hell.”
“It’s the only one I have, so I guess you have to deal with it.” I refuse to look at him.
As I walk toward the door, I feel him stalking close behind me. His suit coat brushes against my arm when he reaches around to open the door, and his heat envelops my body.
When the door swings open, my mouth drops open in shock.
It was unlocked this whole time. I could have run.
Maybe in my dreams. I wouldn’t have made it two steps before Mount reached me. And who knows what that punishment would have been.
My ass clenches, too aware of the foreign object inside it.
Scar waits in the hall with the hood. Is it too much to hope he’s deaf as well as apparently mute?
“Make sure she gets to the distillery before nine. Pick her up at six. She’s not working late this evening because I have plans.”
I turn to argue because he’s speaking to Scar like I’m not present, but Mount’s features might as well be carved from granite. That’s when I realize that this is the Mount his employees know. The Mount everyone knows. The implacable, cold man whose orders are never questioned or denied. The man who rules with an iron fist and no velvet glove.
When his hard eyes land on me, it’s like I’m staring at a different person. I have no doubt this man is every bit as ruthless as his reputation declares.
This isn’t the man who carefully surveyed my injured hand last night—before dousing it in fire—but I can’t argue that it doesn’t hurt today at all because of his actions. This also isn’t the man who was just inside that sitting room, making sure I gained as much pleasure from my first experience with anal play as possible.
Which one is the real Mount? Do I even want to know? Does it matter?
The questions stay with me as Scar hands me the hood and silently carries me away. I tell myself I’m imagining it, but I swear I can feel Mount’s gaze burn into my back as we leave.
* * *
“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble giving you a little more leeway on your line of credit while you wait for that check to come through, Ms. Kilgore.”
Lloyd Bunt delivers his opinion to my chest rather than to my eyes, and I don’t know whether I want to curse Mount for leaving my nipples perpetually hard or thank him, because that ridiculous fact might have just bought Seven Sinners a little more time.
I sink back into my chair with a sigh of relief, and the movement shifts the plug in my ass. I paste a smile on my face, not that it matters because Bunt is still staring at my boobs. “I appreciate the consideration. We have several other promising proposals out for bid that will no doubt lead to additional large payments on the line of credit and on the principal of our loan.”
Bunt finally raises his gaze to my eyes. “Excellent to hear. We’ll look forward to seeing those payments in the near future. And . . . you know, we should probably get another meeting on the calendar as a check-in before I leave. Perhaps next time over dinner?”
My banker is not asking me on a date. That’s seriously not happening.
“I can get us a great table at Galatoire’s any time.”
