I jerk awake in Mount’s arms as he settles me into the backseat of a car. “Where are we?”

“Dublin. You missed the rest of the flight. Also, you snore.”

My mouth drops open. “I do not.”

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. “You do at altitude and when you’re drunk.”

The driver closes the door and I shoot Mount a glare, but it’s impossible to keep it in place as the car pulls away from an airport and onto the streets leading into Dublin.

Giddiness fills me. I’ve wanted to come here my whole life. This is the city and the country where my family comes from, where our whiskey was born. This is my heritage. My roots. I still can’t believe the man beside me is the one who finally made it happen.

“I’m really here,” I whisper as I stare out the window, taking in all the wonderful sights as we near the city. It’s early morning, and the city is coming to life for the day.

“Where does your family come from in Ireland?” Mount asks.

“Here. Dublin.”

“Then it makes sense why you’ve always wanted to come.”

I nod, a lump rising in my throat. “The original distillery went out of business when the whiskey market crashed, and my great-grandfather brought his family over during Prohibition. They ended up in New Orleans, and he started making bootleg whiskey because no one would hire him to do anything else.”

“It must be nice to know where you came from.”

I tear my gaze from the window and look at him, but Mount has already turned away. I recall the story I’ve heard about him, that he was abandoned as a baby in front of a church. I’ve always wondered if it’s true, and his statement makes me think it absolutely is.

“I googled you, you know.” I never intended to admit it, but it slips out.

He shifts, locking his attention on me again. “And?”

“There was nothing. Nothing at all. How is that even possible?”

“Money. Power. My desire for privacy. Other peoples’ fear.”

“Have you ever turned that money and power in the direction of finding your roots?”

His expression turns dark. “No, and I never will.”

“Why not?” I know I should leave it alone, and yet I can’t help but ask the question.

“Because who gave birth to me doesn’t have fuck-all to do with who I am or what I do.”

I let the topic lapse and stare out the window again, soaking up Dublin as we turn onto narrow streets before crossing the River Liffey. But my excitement is dampened by Mount’s answer.

I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to be abandoned. To know that your parents didn’t want you. My father always wanted a son and got three daughters instead, and it was bad enough knowing that growing up. But in comparison, my childhood was an absolute dream compared to Mount’s.

For the first time, when I look at his profile, I don’t see the devil in a suit who has the power to turn my body against me and mess with my head. Instead, I see a man who must have fought overwhelming odds to get to where he is today. I have no idea how he built the empire he rules, and I doubt the question would be well-received.

Who would have guessed that it only took one trans-Atlantic flight and a drive through the city I’ve dreamed of visiting my whole life to realize that Lachlan Mount isn’t a myth or a legend. He’s just a man. A dangerous one, certainly, but still just a man.

It changes nothing, I tell myself, but I’m not sure I believe it.

* * *

We reach the tall hotel with ornate Victorian architecture and are escorted immediately to a massive suite.

“Your luggage will be delivered directly, sir,” the concierge tells him as Mount hands him a large bill.

He carries euros? Between the jet and the service, I’m beginning to realize that regardless of the city or country we’re in, Mount’s life is completely different from mine.

Another thought occurs to me. “I have luggage?” He already shocked me by having my passport.

“Of course. G assembled a wardrobe for you and had it delivered to the jet before you arrived. I was assured that you’ll have everything you need, but if you don’t, you can buy it here.”

Mount’s posture stiffens as though he’s expecting an argument from me, but he’s way off base.

“Are you kidding? I’m in Dublin, a city I’ve wanted to see since I was a kid, and for a conference where I could learn things and make connections that can take Seven Sinners to the next level. I’m not going to waste time being picky about clothes when there’s so much to see and do. As long as he didn’t pack only lingerie, I couldn’t care less.”

Mount eyes me like I’ve grown a second head. “You are nothing like any other woman I’ve ever met.”

His expression turns unreadable, and I have no idea how to respond. Thankfully, a knock on the door puts a halt to that conversation.

After our luggage is delivered into the bedroom of the suite, the bellhop faces us. “Is there anything else you require, sir? We’re at your service.”

Mount turns to me. “What do you want to eat? You must be starving.”

It’s morning here, obviously, but to me it’s still the middle of the night. “I don’t know what meal we should be eating right now.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you want.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t care, that I’ll have whatever he’s having, but I stop myself. Mount’s giving me a choice. From the beginning, he’s offered so few of those, and this one stands out in stark relief.

“A Belgian waffle with butter and syrup, and a side of bacon.”

The bellhop nods, and Mount adds his order.

“Steak and eggs. And send up a bottle of every Irish whiskey you stock in the hotel bar.”

I give the bellhop credit, because he doesn’t look nearly as surprised by this request as I must. Again, Mount slides a large bill into the man’s hand before he leaves.

“What’s with the whiskey?”

Mount shoots me a sideways glance. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To learn and network as much as you can?”

He actually listened.

“Yes.”

“Then I figure a bottle of each of the whiskeys they have will help you start prepping all your questions for the CEOs of the competition.”

“Like they’ll even talk to me,” I say with a laugh. “When I said make connections, I was thinking more along the lines of suppliers and buyers. Small ones. My level. I’m not exactly the CEO of a multinational conglomerate yet. I’m still running a tiny operation that’s barely profitable.”

Mount closes the distance between us and stares down at me. “Don’t, for a single second, put yourself in a category beneath anyone here. Walk into this conference like you’re their equal, because you are. Your operation may be small now, but as you told me, you’re not a shitty CEO and you’re still just getting started. You want to rule the whiskey world? Then act like you already do.”

His words resonate within me, giving me a boost of confidence I didn’t realize I needed. “You don’t exactly strike me as the pep-talk type.”

His lips flatten. “I’m not.”

That comment hits me even harder, because it means his little speech was unique for me. Warmth curls in the vicinity of my chest.

“Thank you. For all of this. It means a lot to me.” I lift my lips to press a kiss to his square jaw, now dark with stubble. When I lower myself on my heels to back away, Mount snakes an arm around my waist, yanking me against his chest.

“So that’s what it takes. A trip to Ireland. Duly noted.”

I don’t have time to process his statement before his lips crash down on mine, his tongue stealing inside and taking over.

When he lifts me off my feet, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He carries me into the bedroom, and we land on the bed with a hard bounce. Mount’s weight presses against me as I bury my hands in his hair.

I tell myself it’s gratitude fueling my actions, but I refuse to look deeper.

Mount tears the blouse from my body, sending buttons flying. He has my skirt shoved up around my waist when a knock comes at the outer door of the suite.

“Shit. The food,” I say on a harsh breath.

“Fuck the food.”

“That works for me.”

We both ignore the continued knocking, and the subsequent phone ringing, in favor of devouring each other.

For the first time, the power struggle doesn’t take precedence. This is something different. Something . . . more daunting.

I push the disturbing thought away as Mount frees his cock and shoves my panties to the side, finding me already wet. He never breaks my stare as he pushes inside, slowly this time, burying himself inch by inch. When he’s fully seated, he growls a single word in my ear.

“Mine.”

It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard him say, because I’m starting to believe him.