Page 41 of The Distiller's Darling

Sure, they could have launched in Ireland, but the market was already saturated. In America, they were unknown, but they had history on their side. They were a novelty that people would want. When the time came for Whitman’s Revival to stand on its own, Iain knew it would.

“Why are you fighting this?” Braden’s tone was the same as it always was. Faintly exasperated, and deeply patronizing.

Iain flicked his gaze from his father to his brother. “Why am I fighting this? I’m fighting it because we’re lagging behind our competitors, and no one is willing to acknowledge that. Everyone but us has introduced an offshoot to market recently, to both critical and financial acclaim. Has no one in the marketing department shown you the figures for Roe and Co or Method and Madness? Oh wait, they have. Multiple times.” He knew this, of course, because he was the head of marketing.

“That’s an entirely different strategy,” his father said, bringing Iain’s gaze back to him.

“I know that,” he answered. “I’m not an idiot—even though you seem to think I am.”

His dad ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of his obvious frustration with his youngest son. “No one thinks you’re an idiot. Impulsive, maybe, but not stupid.”

“Then stop treating me like I am.” He leaned forward so his face was nearer to the screen. He didn’t know why he did it, except he had a feeling that if he was somehow closer to them, they might actually listen. “In case you’ve forgotten, my last impulsive idea was named Dublin’s top tourist attraction last year.”

“That was a good idea,” his dad conceded, “but this one isn’t. At least not in its current form. Come home, Iain, and we’ll figure out how to launch your sister’s whiskey the right way. The Brennan way. This was never going to be something real, son. We never intended to expand in the direction you want.”

The words hit Iain like physical blows. It was never going to be real. Come home. He stared at his dad and brother for several long seconds, the ultimatum hanging heavy between them. There it was. They’d never intended to support him. Either Iain abandon his work here and return to Dublin, or he could forget about any help from his family. Dammit. He knew he was on to something here, but he didn’t know how successful he could be without the financial backing of the Brennan coffers. Going it alone was a scary proposition. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t know how his sister felt about this news.

“Have you discussed this with Maeve?”

His brother shook his head in the negative, while his dad said, “She’s our next meeting. I wanted to speak with you first, since I know Whitman’s was your idea. Your sister would never have done something like this one her own.” He nodded firmly, his complacence folding around him like an invisible shroud.

Iain bit back a sarcastic laugh. That comment alone showed just how little their father actually knew his only daughter. The idea to launch Whitman’s in America with a man-on-the-street guerilla-style marketing campaign had been all Iain’s doing, but it had been Maeve who had approached him about spinning off from Brennan’s in the first place. She was just as tired of the condescending treatment from their family as he was. In Iain’s case, it was because he was the youngest son; hers, because she’d had the audacity to be born female, but still a brilliant distiller.

Iain rubbed the back of his neck, the stirrings of a plan forming at the back of his mind. “When do you need my decision on this?”

Frankly, he already knew what he’d decided, but he needed to talk to Maeve before he showed his hand. If he could just buy some time, he might be able to put together a new plan for Whitman’s—one that would take both his family and the industry by storm.

There was also the not insignificant matter of leaving Naomi behind before he was ready to. They might have started out as casual, but these last few weeks had felt anything but. Neither one of them was willing to put a label on it, but he’d grown to care for her, and he knew she felt the same way about him. She’d even said he could stay at her house when he came back! That was not nothing, especially for Naomi. The scariest part was that when she’d extended the offer, he’d been ready to say a whole hell of a lot more than “yes” and “thank you.” A part of him had been tempted to tell her just how much it meant to him.

He’d thought he had the next two weeks to show her instead.

His family was not going to steal that away from him. They might try to stifle his vision where the business was concerned, but there was no fucking way he was going to let them stifle a relationship with the first woman he’d ever cared to use that word with.

His father was frowning, but Iain plunged ahead. “Because if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to take the rest of my allotted time out here. You probably wouldn’t understand, but I’ve made important contacts here, and friendships I’m not going to just walk away from because daddy wants me back at home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, daring either of them to challenge him.

His father visibly bristled at Iain’s tone, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. Turning away, he said, “Two weeks, then” and stabbed his finger onto the key that would end their call.

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