Page 6 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
Temperance’s grin widens as she scribbles. “See? You’re a born negotiator. This is why you rock at your job.”
If only I could negotiate my way out of a certain debt.
I’m saved from discussing anything further as my phone vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the name on the screen.
This can’t be a good sign.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I tell Temperance.
“Of course. I’ll catch up with you later on any other details. This is going to be great for Seven Sinners. Also, I have a line on a few more organizers interested in reserving the space for events, and a couple other ideas that could really be profitable. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
Normally I’d be thrilled to hear this, but I’m already distracted completely by my caller.
“Thank you, Temperance. This is why you rock at your job.” I stride down the hallway.
“Hey,” I answer.
“You know I don’t get up before noon. You better explain these cryptic-as-shit texts that woke my ass up,” Magnolia Marie Maison says.
After Magnolia dropped out of Sacred Heart in tenth grade because her sc
holarship got pulled, my mother told me I couldn’t see her anymore. The ban wasn’t surprising, because Magnolia got caught giving our history teacher a blow job in the supply closet. Mr. Sumpter disappeared, but Magnolia viewed the situation as finding her calling.
Mama tried to exorcise her from my life, but that’s not how friendship works, at least in my book. Magnolia is the one who beat up Jill Barnard when she made fun of my pixie cut in fourth grade, which also resulted in a suspension. She coached me through using my first tampon. Took me to the clinic to get birth control after I got asked to prom at a boy’s private school, because she swore she wasn’t going to let me make any stupid mistakes with my life.
Magnolia is the big sister I never had. The one who looked out for me and always made sure I stayed out of trouble. My loyalty to her runs deep, and in my opinion, how she makes her living is no one’s business but her own.
“Mags, I have a problem.”
“What, you getting hit on by another restaurateur who only wants to carry Seven Sinners if you have a private dinner to talk it over with him?”
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes over the phone. That has been the extent of my male interactions since Brett died, and she knows it.
I duck into my office and shut the door behind me before I speak. “Lachlan Mount. He was here.” As soon as I say his name, the goose bumps return, along with the lingering seductive scent he left behind. I’ll probably have to fumigate my office to get rid of it.
Magnolia’s voice goes quiet. “The fuck did you say?”
“Lach—”
“Shut your damn mouth and do not say that name again.”
My teeth clack shut.
“He is not a man you want to know you exist. And we can’t talk about this over the phone. I’ll get up. Get dressed. Fuck.”
Her reaction validates everything I’ve been thinking. This situation isn’t bad. It’s catastrophic.
“What do I do?” I hate the fear making my voice unsteady.
“You get your ass to my place and tell me every damn thing that happened. Bring some of that whiskey of yours too, because we’re gonna need it.”
“I have a full day of meetings—”
“Ke-ke, your schedule just got fucking clear. Get your ass to my place.”
Magnolia ordering me around usually is more along the lines of “Ke-ke, take that shot. Don’t be such a pussy.” Or, “Just go out and get some dick, for the love of all that’s holy. Your cooch is gonna dry up.”
Depending on the circumstances, I ignore those comments. This order, I can’t ignore.
