Keira missed registration. Mostly due to the fact that we fell asleep and I woke her up with my head between her legs, teasing her clit with her new jewelry.

I sent a request down to the hotel staff to retrieve any necessary information from registration, and that gave us a few more hours, during which I didn’t let her out of bed. At least, not until both of us decided that food was imperative.

When Keira walks into the cocktail party that evening, I follow a half step behind her, using my height to survey the crowd for threats while keeping my face impassive. My little hellion took my words to heart and shows no hesitation or uncertainty, holding herself like a queen in this male-dominated room.

Heads swivel as she strolls through the crowd, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the designer dress she’s wearing. She’s magnetic. Vibrating with energy.

“They’re all wondering who you are,” I tell her as we order drinks at the bar. Whiskey neat for both of us, made by the company with the biggest share of the whiskey market.

“More like they’re wondering who you are,” she whispers.

“Care to make a wager?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not against you. I have a feeling you always win.”

“You’re finally catching on.”

We turn and survey the room, each sipping our whiskey. I can’t see into her head, but I’m willing to bet she’s scanning for familiar faces and devising a plan of attack.

A smile attempts to quirk my mouth because I’m doing the same.

Thankfully, there’s no one in this crowd I recognize—at least, not yet. There’s no doubt my reach extends far beyond New Orleans, and while I have a large stake in the liquor distribution business, my CEO is the public face of the company. I only manage as necessary from behind the scenes. He’s here somewhere, but if he values his position, he’ll heed the warning I sent before we left that I’m not to be approached.

This week is an anomaly for me. I don’t have to be Lachlan Mount, the man whose brutality inspires fear and respect. This week, I can be whoever the hell I want. There’s a certain allure that anonymity presents, and I embrace it. As Keira engages with suppliers, distributors, and competitors, I step back, letting her take center stage. She transforms from the defiant, stubborn female I’ve been determined to bend to my will into an impressively shrewd and intelligent businesswoman.

This isn’t a shock to me, by any means. I’ve been watching her for long enough to know this is the case, but I’ve never had the opportunity to see her in action, up close and personal.

As she mingles, each person she speaks with is captivated by her, and I’m nothing but an afterthought.

What does shock me, however, is how liberated I feel.

* * *

Back in our suite later, Keira splashes whiskey into two glasses and hands me one.

“Sláinte,” she says, raising hers to clink against the rim of mine. I repeat the toast back to her as she lifts the tumbler to her lips, draining it in a single drink.

“No savoring?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not as good as Seven Sinners. Not many are.”

From anyone else, it would sound like a boast, but from Keira, it’s a simple fact. She believes in her product down to her bones.

Maybe more than I’ve ever believed in anything.

She opens another bottle and pours a small measure into a new glass.

“It still amazes me that you can drink so much for someone your size.”

Keira lifts this glass to her nose and sniffs. “Mother’s milk, I guess. It’s in my blood. I’ve been drinking whiskey nearly my whole life. God, if social services had a clue I was tasting at eight years old, I’m sure my parents would’ve been all over the news.”

Her remark turns my thoughts to all my run-ins with social services, and then all the time I spent avoiding them. “I’m sure they had more pressing cases to worry about.”

She nods, completely absorbed in tasting the whiskey, and misses the darker edge of my statement. She shoots a genuine smile at me, which does a better job chasing away the demons of my past than the entire fifth of liquor would.

“Thank you. Especially for tonight. I . . . I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” Sincere gratitude rings with each word.

“I didn’t do anything.”

She shakes her head. “That’s just it. I honestly thought we would step into that room and you would take over. That I’d be the one standing in silence while you commanded their attention.”

“That’s not why we’re here.” It bothers me that she thinks I’d steal this experience from her, but what evidence have I given her to expect anything else from me?

Keira doesn’t hesitate to call me on it. “I know, but that’s who you are. I didn’t think you were capable of not taking over.” She pauses, her top teeth digging into her bottom lip before releasing it. “I misjudged you, and I’m not too proud to admit it.”

I reach for a random bottle and splash another three fingers into my glass. “Don’t start giving me credit for qualities I don’t have.” Her first impression of me is much closer to the truth. I toss the whiskey back as carelessly as she did. Maybe getting drunk tonight isn’t a bad idea.

“Stop. Please. This is important to me, and I’m going to get it out whether you want to hear it or not.”

I lower the glass to the bar with a nod and cross my arms over my chest to wait.

“You were different. This was different. I . . .” She trails off again for a beat. “I hate talking about him. Especially now.” Her gaze drops to the floor.

When she says him, a rumble of possession roars through me. I spit his name out so she doesn’t have to. “Hyde, you mean?”

She nods.

“What about him?” My tone sharpens with each word dealing with the subject of the man. I hold myself stiff, wondering what comparison she’s going to make between us, knowing it can’t possibly be in my favor.

“He had to be the center of attention, have the most say in any conversation. I was the one who grew up in that distillery like it was my second home, and he’d been there for all of five minutes before his ego was nearly too big to fit through the door. I was the CEO, but he marginalized me at every opportunity. We were supposed to be a team. That’s what he promised me. But he didn’t understand the first thing about teamwork.”

My hands curl into fists. I wish I’d killed the fucker personally, because obviously he did more damage to her than I realized.

“Hyde was a low-level con, through and through. You weren’t equipped to see it coming.”

“Maybe not, but I was dumb enough to fall for it,” she says, blinking back tears.

Hoping Saxon made that piece of shit suffer, I hold up a hand to stop her. “You didn’t stand a chance, and I’m not insulting you when I say that.”

Keira turns away, lifting both hands to her face, and I imagine she’s wiping away tears. Tears that motherfucker is still causing from the grave. This ends now.

I wrap a hand around her arm and turn her to face me. “Stop. He doesn’t deserve another fucking second of your time, let alone another tear.”

“I just feel so stupid. And then I’m barely free of him and you swoop in, probably because you realized I’m such a fucking idiot and an easy mark. I didn’t stand a chance against you either, did I?”

I release her and drop my hands to my sides, consciously flexing my fingers out from the fists they instinctively curl into.

I lower my voice, but every word is perfectly clear. “Don’t fucking compare me to that piece of shit. I am not Brett Hyde.”

Another tear tips over her lid, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to cup the side of her face. She flinches as I touch her, and I hate causing that reaction. I swipe a thumb beneath her lid and catch the next one that falls.

“I don’t need to overshadow you in your element. This is your world. I expect you to go out there and conquer it.”

She sniffles and brushes away the remainder of the tears—and my hand. She doesn’t realize I never offer comfort, and having it rejected is a sharp jab into a raw spot I didn’t know I had.

I step back, gripping the bar with both hands, and wait for her to lift her gaze back to mine. When she does, I tell her the absolute truth.

“And no, you didn’t stand a chance against me. I always get what I want.”