Page 40 of Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy 3)
With every hour that passes, I feel more and more like I’m about to lose my goddamned mind. The news stories online still have conflicting accounts of what’s going on, but the tone has changed.
If bullets have stopped flying, then where the hell is Lachlan?
I’ve practically worn a path in the carpet from the living room to the bedroom in the last three days, but I can’t even pretend to care. The only thing I want is him, back here, safe and sound.
Work is the only thing that has kept me sane. The distillery is still running at full capacity. Louis refused to leave, and the employees sided with him. They reminded me that we’re built of tougher stuff in NOLA.
Temperance is a rock-star COO, so we’ve been able to handle much of the business remotely. But I definitely need to make an appearance soon, if for no other reason than to thank all my employees for their commitment to the company.
I turn to make another circuit on familiar carpet and freeze when I hear a knock at the door.
As much as I want to think it could possibly be Lachlan, I already know it’s not. How? Because he wouldn’t freaking knock.
It’s not even quite noon, and I’ve already worn down my capacity for patience for the day, which means any distraction is a good one. I head into the living area to open the door and find V there with lunch.
“Come on in.” As he steps around me to bring the tray inside, I close the door behind him. “Do you know where he is? Can you tell me anything?”
V sets the tray on the same table I’ve been eating at for days, and turns to face me. His expression is as unreadable as ever.
“Can you at least tell me he’s okay? Because if I find out he’s not and you all kept it from me, there will be hell to pay.” I’m gesticulating wildly, like that will somehow entice him to reply.
He grunts.
“What does that mean?” My tone takes on a shrill edge, showing just how close I am to the edge and coming completely unraveled.
V points at the covered tray of food.
“I couldn’t give a shit less about food right now, V. Just tell me—is he okay?”
He nods.
“Then where the hell is he? Is it over? I need to know something.”
To this, he gives no response, sending my frustration soaring to record heights.
V begins to back away toward the door, but I stop him.
“Don’t leave. Not yet. I’m going out of my mind here. Can you just sit and wait with me?”
His eyes narrow on mine, but he comes back toward the table and gestures at the food again.
“You sit. I’ll eat. Okay?”
He nods and sits, removing the lid before pushing the tray in front of me.
My hand shakes as I grip the fork, but I barely taste the food as I shovel it down my throat.
We repeat the same process at dinner several hours later.
Still, no Lachlan Mount.
Where the hell is he?
Mount
Drained, I step into the bathroom connected to my office and strip off my jacket, dropping it on the floor. I glance at my hands, then turn on the tap and wait until the water hits scalding before I scrub them with soap.
No matter how many times I wash my hands, I still see the blood on them. Yet I feel no remorse.
