Page 36 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
“So, now the only issue we have left is getting Odile to agree,” Temperance says with a syrupy-sweet smile.
“And you want me to do it.” It’s not a question. I already know the answer.
“You’re the boss, boss.” Temperance gathers her paperwork and stands. “She keeps telling you to act more like a CEO, so I figured now is the perfect time to grant her wish.”
I open my mouth to respond, but a sharp buzz rips through the toy for a single blazing moment. My harsh indrawn breath takes us both by surprise.
Temperance hugs the documents to her chest. “If it’s that much of an issue, I can—”
I force a smile on my face and squeeze my thighs shut. “Of course not. I—it will be fine. I’ll take care of Odile. You draft up the fancy presentations and make it look as expensive as we’re going to be.”
“We got this, boss. They’re not going to walk away now. I’ve heard the GM has a fondness for Seven Sinners, especially the Spirit of New Orleans blend, so don’t be surprised if you get requests the night of the event to put a case or six aside for him.”
Temperance refers to our most exclusive whiskey that isn’t even available for purchase yet, except by the glass in our restaurant. I took a risk and had sample bottles made and sent to every heavy hitter in town as a gift. I made the decision in the fog of grief and out of desperation with one look at how badly our financial position was after Brett’s skimming of the accounts. The gesture was too expensive, and so far hasn’t yielded much in return. But maybe this is fate. Everything happens for a reason, right?
Like the vibrator between my legs being controlled by the most dangerous man I’ve ever met?
Suddenly my closely held belief in pre-destiny and fate and all that goes along with it is called into question.
Everyone comes into your life for a reason . . . or that’s what I always thought. I can’t come up with a reason for Mount. I’m sure no one can.
Temperance pauses at the door. “I’l
l let you figure out how you’re going to work on Odile. I’ll be in my office running copies and binding presentations if you need me.”
I manage the barest of nods as Temperance scoots out of my office, already worrying about the next thing on her to-do list.
That was me just over a week ago. Hell, that was me since the day I took the reins as CEO. All business. It turned out to be my saving grace, and the only way I could cope with the betrayal and fallout from Brett’s death.
Hate.
Anger.
Rage.
How sad is it that those emotions are taking up more room in my heart than anything positive in these last months?
What is happening to me?
A con artist with an expensive drug habit and a mistress.
A man who thinks the rules don’t apply to him.
As my thighs clench again involuntarily, I swear to myself.
He will not break me.
Keira
I’m seated at the table across from the Voodoo Kings’ assistant general manager, the public relations director, and the special event coordinator of the football team when Carlie, one of my waitresses, brings out the first flight of whiskey.
If anyone thinks I’m above getting these men drunk, they’d be wrong. They have the power to sign the contract that will help haul my company’s ass out of hot water, and that means I have no choice but to get this contract signed.
Am I proud of it? Not particularly. Am I willing to do it anyway? Absolutely. Am I also thanking the good Lord above that not a single one of the people sitting across the table from me is female and would likely see right through my ploy? Damn right.
“Gentlemen, let’s start this meeting off properly—with a damned good whiskey made in our hometown in the Irish tradition of my family.” I reach for a glass and lift it toward the center of the table.
They each grab their own glass. None of them seem to notice Temperance doesn’t. While I’ve been sipping on whiskey like mother’s milk for almost thirty years, she barely drinks at all. I tease her about being a cheap date.
