Page 12 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
“And you want me to defy the man who’s never been defied?” I cough out a strangled laugh. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
She shakes her head again, biting her lip as she holds up a finger. “No. I’m trying to save you.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. Because honestly, what else is there to say in this situation?
“But there’s one more thing you gotta watch out for, girl.”
I don’t want to know where she’s going with this, probably down some other dark and gruesome road, but I have to ask. “What?”
“When you’ve got as much power as Mount, that much charisma, that much presence, it does things to people.”
“You’re losing me.”
“Listen to me, Ke-ke. Hear me.” Her sharp tone clues me in to the fact that this is no joke. “He’s going to make your head go to war with your body.”
My heart kicks up again. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Magnolia lets out a long sigh. “I’ll put this in plain terms. You’re gonna tell yourself that you don’t want him, that you hate him, and that this is all happening against your will. But there’s something about that man that tells me he’s gonna fuck with your head and turn your body against you. Mark my words, Ke-ke. He will make you enjoy it. He will make you want him.”
The gravity of her stare presses me back into the couch. “No way. No fucking way.” I jump up, my arms at my sides, my hands fisted.
“Yes fucking way. Get this through your head.” She comes toward me and wraps a hand around my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “There’s no shame in enjoying it, if that’s what’s gotta be done. My girls do it all the time. Drop-dead gorgeous client, one they’d fuck for free? Doesn’t even feel like work.”
I stiffen under her grip. “I’m not one of your girls.” The words come out from between gritted teeth.
“But you’re still female, and chemistry isn’t something you can fight.” She surveys me with knowledge in her eyes I can’t begin to imagine. Her grip on my arm loosens. “Just . . . be careful. He’s not like any man you’ve ever met. But whatever you do, don’t show fear. Don’t let him fuck with your head. You’re strong. Hold on to that. But if you enjoy it . . . what’s the harm?” She releases her hold on me with a shrug.
“No way in hell.”
Keira
I don’t remember any of my drive home.
I should have gone back to work. The fundraising event needs to be locked down, and I should be asking for details on the other inquiries we’ve had. But I can’t. My brain won’t focus, and I find myself parking in my spot at my run-down apartment building instead. When I realize where I am, I call Temperance and tell her I’m not feeling well. It isn’t a lie, by any means, and not just because I puked my guts up at Magnolia’s.
I refuse to believe there’s only one way out of this that doesn’t end with everyone I love dying. But any way I look at it, life as I know it is over.
“After a few months, they disappear. Like they never existed to begin with.”
Mount can’t make me disappear. I have people who would notice and then scream bloody murder if the cops didn’t look hard enough. I’m not some random girl from a foreign country, or like Richelle with no family left to keep the case alive after the police shelve it.
When I open my door and climb out, a BMW pulls to a stop along the curb across the street.
Is it following me? Or is it just another random nice car, and my mind is playing tricks on me? Either way, the fact that I can’t see th
rough the black-tinted windows puts me on edge. I hoist my bag onto my shoulder and lock my car door.
My keys jangle in my shaking hand as I walk with uneven steps toward the front entrance. When I let myself inside, I glance over my shoulder at the car, but no one gets out and the window doesn’t open.
Ignore it. It’s nothing. And regardless, from the way Magnolia described things, Mount would have no reason to have me followed if he already knows everything about me.
That knowledge makes me feel stripped bare, even though I’m fully clothed.
Unless they’re watching to see if I’m going to run.
I make my unsteady way up the stairs to the third-floor apartment I leased the day I met with the lawyer and planned to file for divorce. My townhouse, the one Brett moved into the day we got married, is a rental and the lease is about to lapse. I planned to renew it. At least until . . .
I push the memories of that day from my mind and focus on getting inside. I could have picked a nicer place to crash-land after my divorce, but I already planned to cut my salary to the bone to keep up with the distillery debt.
