Page 13 of The Bourbon Bet
“That’s probably because he wants to fuck you. My brother has a way of making women feel special. But once he has them… the charm fades. Just ask his ex-wife.”
The words hit harder than I expect. Is that really how Sebastian sees me? “E-excuse me,” I stammer.
“Don’t slap the messenger, honey. I’m just telling you how he is. He loves the chase. Not the prize. And—”
“I’m not your honey,” I bite out. “And If you’re about to make some analogy about how I’m a crappy prize, you can see yourself out of my store.” My unexpected boldness sends shockwaves from my chest to my stomach.
“You mean my building? The one you get to keep for another two months—unless you help me." Thorne’s gaze sweeps the empty store with theatrical slowness. "Though honestly, opening a bookstore on Whiskey Row? A street famous for bourbon, not books?” He practically sneers the word. “Maybe you’re better suited to being an employee than an owner.”
“I opened five minutes ago,” I sputter. “I’m doing great. I cater to locals, tourists, readers, and the bourbon industry. My place is the calm oasis before my customers head out to the distilleries and bad decisions.”
“Bad decisions, huh?” He grins, and a dimple appears on his left cheek, but the sight doesn’t make my heart flip as it does around Sebastian.
I don’t return his smile. “Is this what rich people do for entertainment? Manipulate people’s livelihoods for corporate games?”
“This isn’t a game,” he says, his voice suddenly hard. “I’m trying to protect my family’s legacy.”
I can’t tell if he’s worried about the distillery or if he’s angry because I’m not falling in line. What’s real and what’s an act?
“Why me for this scheme? There must be dozens of women who’d be eager to date a Blackstone.”
“Because you’re the easiest—”
“Excuse me!”
“Settle down, honey. Rumor is, he’s interested in you.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. “If you smile pretty and stroke his…ego, I’m sure he’ll invite you to the Blackstone Bourbon Classic. While there, take the portfolio.” He snaps his fingers. “The next day, I’ll have my lawyers draft a five-year lease of this building for you.”
The burst of cheerful chatter announces the arrival of several customers who step through my open door. Their laughter bounces off the bookshelves, filling the space with an infectious energy that contrasts with my unsettled state. I greet them with a forced smile, unable to fully register their faces.
Thorne lowers his voice. “I need your answer by tomorrow.”
“This is insane,” I whisper back. “I might not mean anything to him, but hewillbe angry. Who wouldn’t be? And even if you remove him from his position within the distillery, he’s still a Blackstone. He could do worse than just kick me out of this building. His money and connections have the power to crush me completely. He might blacklist me with vendors, ruin my reputation in town, make sure I can’t keep my doors open.”
Thorne waves off my concern. “Sebastian has bigger fish to fry than some bookstore owner who played along with his brother’s game. Trust me, I know how he thinks. He’ll be angry at me, not you, which is nothing new.” His eyes harden. “I, on the other hand, don’t share my brother’s restraint. Something to consider before you turn down my generous offer.”
Thorne’s barely veiled threat scares the hell out of me, but what am I giving up of myself if I agree? If I refuse, there is a very good chance I won’t be able to reopen the store or my programs. And it feels like I’m erasing my favorite book. First, the colorful descriptions are removed, followed by the supporting characters, until all that remains is a thin plot that barely resembles the story I’d imagined for myself.
But at least I will be able to look at myself in the mirror each morning. Sure, my integrity won’t pay the bills, but it’s the only thing they can’t take from me.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I tell him.
His head jerks back. “Why not? Don’t you care about your business?”
Fury surges through me. “You don’t deserve an answer to that question when you’re treating my livelihood like a bargaining chip. But, yes, this place is everything to me.”
“Apparently not, if you’re willing to let it go without a fight.” He counters, straightening his expensive cufflinks.
“This isn’t a fight. It’s a transaction where I’m supposed to sell my integrity along with the books. I'd rather lose the store than become that kind of person.”
“Integrity,” Thorne scoffs. “Is that what losers call their fear of taking risks? Let me tell you something about the real world—principles don’t pay bills. They just make failure feel noble.”
“I have other options.” They are slim but better than this crap.
“Do you really?” His gaze tracks over me, from my coupon-clipped haircut to the frayed cuffs of my blouse. At this moment, I’m acutely aware of every patch and stitch holding my world together. His eyes narrow. “I had my people look into your finances, Rosalia. I know you still haven’t paid off your original loan. That your father remortgaged his home for your startup costs. Do you have the money to move? The cost of new rent, security deposits, renovations, and lost revenue. I know you’ll never secure another loan with your credit history.”
A cold wave washes over me, starting at my scalp and rushing downward. How dare he invade my privacy? “You had no right,” I hiss.
“I have every right to know who I’m doing business with,” he counters, clearly unfazed by my outrage. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re not exactly in a position to turn down my offer.”
