Page 49 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
Keira gives me a short nod before gripping the contract tightly enough to crease the pages. Her chin stays high. “Then I’ll let you know if I have any other revisions to request before I sign.”
This woman . . . She has to learn that she can only push me so far before I will throw down the rules.
“This doesn’t go to your lawyer. That’s non-negotiable.”
Mistrust flares in her gaze once more. She wants to fight me on that point, but manages to keep it in. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But I’d be a shitty CEO if I didn’t review it in detail before I sign, and that’s not how I run my business.”
Her statement knocks something loose in me, altering my perception of the woman standing before me. Keira Kilgore, the CEO. Not Keira Kilgore, the woman I plan to own.
Another piece of Titan’s advice enters my mind. Listen. Figure out what she wants. Give it to her.
I can admit when someone else is right, and he nailed it.
The contract is a start, but I’ve got a long way to go.
Keira
My workday passes in what feels like a matter of minutes. When I leave the office, Temperance is still on the phone finalizing details for the Voodoo Kings event, and I give her a wave. She smiles and makes a shooing motion out the door.
Scar is waiting at the curb per usual, and I slide into the backseat of the car. We’ve dispensed with all the hood nonsense after my escape, so when he starts driving in the opposite direction as I expect, I question him, even though I know he’s not going to answer.
“Where are we going?”
His grunt of a response is all I get.
Thirty minutes later, we turn down the road to Lakefront Airport, and I’m even more confused.
“What’s going on?”
Scar drives directly to a private hangar and parks near the front glass doors. He exits the car and opens my door, then leads me inside. I barely get a look at the posh lounge area that looks nothing like the molded plastic seating of a commercial airport before he pushes open another glass door and we step onto a red carpet runner leading across the tarmac to the stairs of a large, sleek private jet.
Whoa.
I take in the black-and-gold aircraft, and although I know nothing about planes, I’m willing to bet it’s ridiculously expensive. There’s no name or logo indicating who owns it, but I only need one guess.
Scar nods toward the stairs, and I hesitate for a moment.
To fly on the private jet or not? It isn’t exactly a decision I thought I’d be making when I left Seven Sinners tonight. I can’t lie and say I’ve never wondered what it would be like to fly in one . . . but the thought of the man either already inside or en route keeps my feet glued to the red carpet.
What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like he hasn’t kidnapped me already. The fact that this is my logic and rationalization is absolutely insane, but that’s the impact Mount has had on my life.
The final thing that sways me is the contract from this morning. It was a gesture I still don’t understand, but I couldn’t find any more hidden traps in the legalese either.
Scar grunts from behind me, and I make my decision.
Screw it.
With measured steps, I cross the red carpet and reach the plane. I balance my shoe on the first stair, grip the rails, and climb up into the cabin.
The interior matches everything else of Mount’s—black, gold, and white.
Mount is seated in one of the plush black leather seats with a laptop open on the table in front of him. He looks up as I enter.
“What’s going on?”
He closes the laptop and stands. “We’re going out.”
“Like on a date?” Disbelief hangs from every word.
