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Defiant Queen

Defiant Queen

Page 12

I don’t want to ask how he knows that, because I’m sure the answer will send me into another pacing rant. “That doesn’t make them any less important to me. They’re my blood. Wouldn’t you sacrifice anything to save yours?”

Mount’s dark eyes harden as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, his thumbs moving across the screen. When he returns it to its spot, he looks up at me.

“I have to go.”

“Okay.” I follow him toward the door, intent on leaving with him, but he stops at the doorway.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my gilded cage.”

He shakes his head. “This is your new home. Get used to it. V will be stationed outside, so don’t bother trying to leave.”

“But—”

He shuts the door on my protest, trapping me in yet another luxurious prison.

 

As soon as Mount leaves, I yank open the door, because I’ve learned to be thorough.

Sure enough, just as he promised, Scar is stationed outside. Except, I guess his name is V. I prefer Scar, personally.

“My driver, and now my babysitter. How did you get so lucky?” Sarcasm drips from every word.

I slam the door in his face before he can respond, and rush to my purse when I hear my phone chime with a text alert. It’s from the same unknown number that I now know belongs to Scar, and I save it in my phone as such.

 

Scar: You want dinner? The chef will prepare something for you.

Keira: I’m considering a hunger strike.

Scar: Boss won’t like it.

Keira: I don’t give a NOLA-sized rat’s ass about what he likes.

Scar: Then you’re eating whatever I pick for you. Hope you like liver.

Keira: Gross. You think he’ll like you polluting his rooms with that stench?

Scar: Then pick something.

 

I give it a moment of thought and come up with the most ridiculous menu I can think of.

 

Keira: Turtle soup, New Zealand lobster tail, a grass-fed Argentinian filet, truffle mashed potatoes (the chunky kind but no skins), organic green beans amandine, and a chocolate soufflé with a side of fresh raspberry compote.

 

With a triumphant smile, I wait for a return message and get nothing.

It doesn’t dim my smugness. Now he can’t blame me for not eating. I followed directions.

I wander the room, not wanting to pry, but unable to stop myself from peeking into the bedroom again and crossing the plush gold-and-black carpet to reach the palatial bathroom. The creamy white stone is shot through with veins of gold and black, and I can’t help but wonder what his obsession is with those colors.

I shut down the curiosity because it’s not going to help me get out of the situation I find myself in.

With my phone still in hand, I think of the one person who may be able to give me some kind of guidance.

I pull up Magnolia’s last text and shoot her one back.

 

Keira: Need to talk ASAP. Shit is crazy.

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