The Scotch Queen (Scotch 2)

“So seriously, how many glasses of scotch do you drink a day?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never counted.”

“What would you estimate?”

I thought about the average day and how many glasses I had for lunch, while I sat in my office, and at dinnertime. Plus, all the scotch I drank before bed. “I don’t know…six or seven glasses…sometimes nine or ten.”

Her jaw nearly dropped, and her eyes popped open. “Nine or ten…?”

Was that a lot?

“That’s insane. Your liver must be corroded.”

I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t seen a doctor in years. “I feel fine.” I still hit the gym hard every single day and ran my empire without a problem.

“That’s just not good for you, Crewe. It’s fine to drink…but not that much.”

Instead of putting any value into what she said, I concentrated on the unspoken meaning of her words. “You sounds concerned.”

“I am concerned. Alcohol at that level isn’t healthy.”

“I’ve been drinking like that for a long time. Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it?” she demanded. “You’re gonna drown yourself.”

My love for scotch began when I was young. When I opened up my own distillery, it became worse. Getting lost in a smooth glass of amber liquid was the best way to chase away my depression. It was the best cure for nightmares.

“How do you even think when you’re drunk all the time?”

“I think better, actually.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to sound bossy, but you really should cut it back. You’ll need a liver transplant before you turn forty.”

“And then I can keep going for another forty years.”

Now she just glared at me.

“If I’m not mistaken, it sounds as if you care about me.”

Her glare faded, but she still wore a serious look. “Because I do care about you, Crewe. But you already knew that.”

My heart rate picked up slightly, and I felt arousal that wasn’t caused by just her outfit. Hearing a confession like that inflated my ego bigger than it already was. She was being held here against her will, but she somehow felt a connection with me.

I was glad the feeling was mutual.

“I want you to cut back.”

If anyone else had made that request of me, I wouldn’t even consider it. But I loved the way her face darkened in concern. I loved knowing she cared about me, that she wanted me to live a long and healthy life. The longer I lived, the longer she was my prisoner. But that didn’t seem to bother her.

“Crewe.”

“How much are we talking?” I wanted to keep listening to this, to hear her beg me to take care of myself. She sounded like a nagging wife, but I actually liked it.

“Three to four glasses a day.”

I laughed because it was absurd. “I have four glasses by the end of lunch.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to space it out. Drink more water.”

“There’s water in scotch.”

That glare was back.

I smiled because I liked the look. “Five to six.”

“Even that is too much. Three to four.”

I shook my head. “There’s no way I could do that. Just being honest.”

“Baby steps. Cut back one drink a day until you reach four.”

She made it sound so easy. “I’m addicted, Lovely. I need it.”

“You can always replace it with something else.”

“Cigars?”

Now that glare was more ferocious. “No smoking.”

“Then what?”

“Sex always works.”

I raised an eyebrow, hoping that was some kind of offer. “Sex, huh?”

“Yeah. When you get the urge, come looking for me instead.”

Scotch for sex. That didn’t sound so bad. “You’ll get my mind off it?”

“I’ll certainly try.”

With an offer like that, cutting back actually sounded possible. “I’ll try.”

“There’s no try. You seem like a man who always succeeds. Make this a success.”

“You should be a motivational speaker, you know that?”

She shook her head. “Very little things motivate me, besides health. I want everyone to live a long and happy life, free from disease that’s self-induced. I hate seeing it. It’s the worst.”

I always forgot about her medical background. When I looked at her, I just saw a beautiful woman at my beck and call. I didn’t think about her passions or her previous life. None of that seemed to matter. “Looks like I have a private physician.”

“I don’t know about that…never got my license.” The accusation was heavy in her voice.

I let it wash over me without any effect. If she didn’t want to be there, she wouldn’t be so seductive, so flirtatious. I suspected she wanted to stay there with me, to live like royalty every single day without having to lift a finger. Every woman wanted to be pampered. She was no different.

I held her hand as we walked back to my office. We had a nice lunch and talked about the beautiful weather. As if we were a couple, we were comfortable in mutual silence. We didn’t always need to talk, but when we did, it was nice.