Page 19 of The Bourbon Bargain

“Something like that.”

Her question has my guard up and I’m once again facing the very real stigma that I haven’t earned my place as the owner of this company in her eyes, and likely many others. They may believe exactly as she does, that this is the result of a besotted husband trying to impress his wife and shower her with extravagant presents rather than based on my ability. I’ll have to work twice as hard to prove that I belong here as head of this company.

I also didn’t realize the Atlanta Haute List was still reporting on everything Hayes and I do, including what he’s doing on the business end of things, but I begrudgingly nod.

“Do you actually read that gossip site?” I’m genuinely curious about the reach it could possibly have. This is a prime example of why I don’t do social media and stay off the internet as much as humanly possible. I may need to set up an alert for my name now that I am suddenly thrust into the public’s interest, thanks to being married to Hayes. That way I will know what people are saying and not be blindsided by strangers with way more information than I’m comfortable sharing.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do! Practically everyone in Atlanta does. They’ve really taken a liking to you,” she says, a note of admiration in her tone.

I highly doubt she would enjoy being in the spotlight on that blog if it was the intimate details of her life splashed across their website.

“I call it obsessive and not at all necessary. I’m really boring and there’s nothing special for anyone to speculate about,” I reply, my cheeks heating at her open stare and curiosity.

“Girl, you are living a fairy tale life in my opinion. I swear, it reads like a romance novel sometimes, how quickly you two fell in love—like it was fate. And the presents! They’re so extravagant. How did you meet, anyway? The Haute List hasn’t been able to crack that one and I am dying of curiosity.” Brandy’s blue eyes are intense as she leans in conspiratorially, and I take a step back from the scrutiny, masking my discomfort by peering closer at the second distillation process happening near us.

“We met at a party. See, nothing special,” I say, downplaying the enchanting night I ran into Hayes in a dark garden as I fled my mother and my responsibilities at my debutante ball. I love that only Hayes and I know the details, just a little piece of our story that we can hold dear. I certainly don’t feel particularly forthcoming with a virtual stranger who is far more interested in my life than she should be. It still surprises me that anyone would care about me or my relationship in the slightest. There are so many more important and interesting things to worry about.

“I’ve been dying to know what happened to keep you guys apart for over a week right after you were married. Did Hayes buying the hotel group from your family have something to do with it? I would have been so mad, so I don’t blame you for walking away from him, but I know a lot of people probably didn’t understand. But you got back together, so there must have been a reconciliation. Was that when he gave you Underworld Spirits? I would die of excitement if someone apologized by giving me a company. Is it super glamorous being married to an older billionaire? I know the billionaire part is probably a given, but it seems so sexy to have someone more mature pursue you. You stayed here in Atlanta with him, right? What’s his house like?” She finally takes a breath and I take a step back from her barrage of questions and postulation.

“I’m really not comfortable talking about this.” The words come out stilted and awkward, my need to stop the conversation in its tracks outweighing my desire to avoid confrontation of any sort. It’s worth the cringey horror I feel to get her to stop asking intrusive questions.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she says, finally realizing my discomfort. “I get carried away sometimes and it makes me nosy. I’ll finish giving you the tour.” She appears only partially contrite but it’s better than the prying questions.

I really dislike that gossip site and all of the mess it’s brought to my life just by throwing me into the ring for everyone’s entertainment. How does one go about staying under the radar when they’re married to a billionaire that has already caught the attention of everyone in the city?

I follow Brandy through the copper gin stills, stopping and admiring the top-of-the-line machinery and learning about the cutting-edge technology Underworld is using in their distillery without really knowing what the process is, or the reasons why one is used over the other. I keep adding words and phrases to a mental list and realize I have a lot of homework to do as we trace our steps back to the operations side of the building, where she deposits me in my corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over a sliver of Lake Clara Meer and Piedmont Park several miles away.

I pull my phone out and send a quick text to Hayes.

Paige: Hey! I hope your day is going well. Underworld is more massive than I thought. There’s so much I don’t know. I hope things are going better for you *hearts around head emoji*

My phone vibrates on the desk a moment later.

Hayes: It’s a mess here. I envy you having to learn about a new company when mine is a shit show. Lean on the team at Underworld. They’re top of their class in chemistry, marketing, and production, so the information and talent are all right there in that building.

I tap out a quick reply, knowing we both have plenty to keep us busy today and I am likely pulling his attention away from more pressing concerns just by texting when he should be focused on the work at hand.

Paige: Sounds like you have your hands full! I will be just fine. I’m sure I’ll be here late trying to make sense of the process and the why of everything, but it’s fascinating. Stay strong, my love. See you at home *heart eye emoji*

I open my laptop and make myself comfortable at the massive desk, probably ordered by Hayes when he was the company owner, and search the web for the history and the processes of distilling. The history is fascinating, and the commercial practices that have developed over the years keep me busy.

A knock at my office door has my head popping up from my overwhelming research. “Come in,” I call.

The door opens and a petite brunette in clear-rimmed glasses pokes her head in. “Um, hi, I’m Sierra Tremayne, director of chemistry and development?” she says with a note of a question in her voice. “I’m here to give you a crash course on our distilling process. Your husband, uh, Mr. Olsen, called and made the request. Oh, and he made me bring you a whiskey cake from the café because you probably haven’t eaten.”

I wave her in and chuckle at how well Hayes knows me. It’s just like him to pull strings to see to my needs and ensure I have someone close by to help even when he’s dealing with his own work crisis.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sierra, I’m Paige. Thank you so much for your help, I could really use it right now. I was getting a little deep into things I don’t quite understand with my research. I hope you don’t mind me picking your brain.”

She comes in and sits across from me, her dark eyes wide behind her frames as she pushes the plastic container of sticky sweet cake and a fork toward me. “It was kind of a shock to get a call from him directly. He’s pretty intimidating.”

“He can be, for sure, but he’s very down-to-earth when you get to know him,” I assure her, despite knowing that Hayes likely never shows his soft cinnamon roll side to anyone but me.

My husband is a secret romantic, a cuddly, affectionate, sweet man who is only ever like that with me, I realize. I’m lucky but also know it will be hard to convince anyone else of his amazing qualities when he stays so intimidating with others and incredibly ruthless in his business practices.

I take a bite of the cake and let out a sound of approval. It’s amazing. I will have to thank Hayes for his intervention on behalf of my stomach when I get home.

“He mentioned that you were interested in the distilling process. Do you have time now to go over that?”

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