Page 17 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
“But—”
He shuts the door on my protest, trapping me in yet another luxurious prison.
As soon as Mount leaves, I yank open the door, because I’ve learned to be thorough.
Sure enough, just as he promised, Scar is stationed outside. Except, I guess his name is V. I prefer Scar, personally.
“My driver, and now my babysitter. How did you get so lucky?” Sarcasm drips from every word.
I slam the door in his face before he can respond, and rush to my purse when I hear my phone chime with a text alert. It’s from the same unknown number that I now know belongs to Scar, and I save it in my phone as such.
Scar: You want dinner? The chef will prepare something for you.
Keira: I’m considering a hunger strike.
Scar: Boss won’t like it.
Keira: I don’t give a NOLA-sized rat’s ass about what he likes.
Scar: Then you’re eating whatever I pick for you. Hope you like liver.
Keira: Gross. You think he’ll like you polluting his rooms with that stench?
Scar: Then pick something.
I give it a moment of thought and come up with the most ridiculous menu I can think of.
Keira: Turtle soup, New Zealand lobster tail, a grass-fed Argentinian filet, truffle mashed potatoes (the chunky kind but no skins), organic green beans amandine, and a chocolate soufflé with a side of fresh raspberry compote.
With a triumphant smile, I wait for a return message and get nothing.
It doesn’t dim my smugness. Now he can’t blame me for not eating. I followed directions.
I wander the room, not wanting to pry, but unable to stop myself from peeking into the bedroom again and crossing the plush gold-and-black carpet to reach the palatial bathroom. The creamy white stone is shot through with veins of gold and black, and I can’t help but wonder what his obsession is with those colors.
I shut down the curiosity because it’s not going to help me get out of the situation I find myself in.
With my phone still in hand, I think of the one person who may be able to give me some kind of guidance.
I pull up Ma
gnolia’s last text and shoot her one back.
Keira: Need to talk ASAP. Shit is crazy.
I wait several long moments, inspecting the gold fixtures on a bathtub the size of a small pool, and peer into the water closet that’s larger than the entire bathroom in my apartment. There’s even a freaking bidet. I’ll admit I’m a little curious about how one uses that, because I’ve never tried.
My phone chimes and my attention cuts to the screen.
Magnolia: Got a business meeting tonight. How crazy?
Keira: Crazy enough that I think I’m losing my shit.
Magnolia: I’ll reschedule. Call ya in ten.
I back out of the bathroom and kick off my heels once I reach the plush carpet, letting my feet sink into the thick pile.
Property in the French Quarter has ridiculous value per square foot. More than I could ever afford, and here Mount owns who knows how much. The curiosity I shoved down earlier returns, and I decide it’s time to get as much information out of Magnolia as humanly possible about Lachlan Mount.
