Page 47 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
“It’s not. Hence the word gift.” He walks toward me, shoves the box into my hands, and walks through the bedroom and out the door before I can respond.
I stare at the box like it contains all the mysteries of the universe, because honestly, that’s about as good a guess as I have right now.
Carefully, I lift the lid and look inside.
It’s a contract. Between an entity I don’t recognize and Seven Sinners for the purchase of six thousand cases a year of our most expensive whiskeys.
What the hell?
Six thousand cases? I quickly do the math in my head. That would give me enough breathing room for a couple of months, and I wouldn’t have to touch the five hundred grand Mount put in the checking account.
But what’s the catch? With Mount, there’s always a catch.
I flip through the pages of the contract, scanning quickly. It’s a distribution agreement with all the standard terms and conditions that I’d normally expect to see.
When I turn to the last page, something catches my eye. Specifically, my name. The contract is contingent upon me being the point of contact through the duration of the distribution relationship, which is intended to renew annually with increasing quantities unless either party gives notice to terminate. The signature on it is a scribble I can’t decipher.
I stride into the bedroom, but Mount’s already gone.
“Damn you! I have questions!” I yell, but he obviously doesn’t hear me.
I turn the door handle to the exit, expecting it to be locked. When it flies open with a yank, I almost fall on my ass. Mount’s suited figure nears the corner at the end of the wide hallway.
“Hey! Our conversation is not over!”
His broad-shouldered form halts before slowly turning around to face me. He’s at least thirty feet away, but I can see the expression on his face. There’s no hint of the humor that was there when he handed me the box.
His long strides eat up the distance between us faster than I anticipate.
Oh shit. I swallow a lump in my throat and force myself to appear confident, even though I feel like a novice matador facing her first bull charge.
Maybe I should think before I yell at the scariest man in this city?
Mount
I wrap my hand around her upper arm, my grip firm enough to get her attention, but not tight enough to cause pain or injury, as I rip the bedroom door open.
I can’t remember the last time someone shouted at me like that, telling me we weren’t finished.
Only she would dare.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her exactly that, but I remember Titan’s words.
Check your ego at the door.
When I release Keira, she steps away with her spine straight, indicating the defiance I continually struggle to tame, but there’s a hint of something else in her expression as she waits for me to speak. Dread.
I hate that look on her face. I no longer want her to fear me like everyone else. It doesn’t bring me any satisfaction.
I close the door and lean against it, my arms crossed over my chest. Her attention follows my every movement as though anticipating that I’ll lash out in retaliation, and that realization banks the smoldering flames of my temper.
“Then by all means, let’s continue it now.”
Keira’s fear shifts to confusion, which is fine with me. While I don’t want her fear, I feel no guilt about keeping her off-balance. That means I have a chance to tip the scales in my favor.
She holds out the contract. “What is this?”
“I’m fairly certain you can read.”
