Page 10 of The Bourbon Bet
“Because this is so much better. Why settle for her little corner when I can have the whole damn company?” He settles back in his chair like a chess master who’s announced checkmate.
Shit. I shouldn’t agree. It’s wrong, but damn, he’s backed me into the perfect corner. I can let him destroy an innocent woman for certain, or take a gamble that might save herandfinally get him out of my life.
My brother sits forward, steepling his fingers. “If you think about it, I’m doing you a favor.”
“If you truly wanted to do me a favor, then just leave. That solves my issue and Rosalia’s. And it’s quicker than this asinine bet.”
Thorne throws his head back with a laugh that echoes through his corner office. “Oh, Bastian. That’s what I love about you, always the optimist. But let’s be honest here. When this is all over, I’ll have proven what we both already know: everyone has their price, even your precious bookworm. And once she betrays you, I’ll finally take my rightful place in the family business.” He spreads his hands across the mahogany desk, as if already claiming territory. “Dad may have given you the crown, but I’m the one who was born to wear it. So enjoy your last few months as the golden boy of Blackstone. Those controlling shares you’re so proud of? Consider them mine at half price. After all, it’s only fair that family gets a discount.”
I draw a slow breath, weighing my options. This is manipulation, plain and simple. Another of my brother’s games where he’s already arranged all the pieces. I tap my fingers against my thigh, a quiet metronome counting the cost of each choice. Whose future do I risk, hers or mine? The decision shouldn't be this difficult, yet I’m paralyzed.
“Okay, walk away.” He shrugs. “I’ll start making calls this afternoon. By the end of the week, your precious bookworm will be facing financial ruin.”
I hold up a hand. I can't let him destroy her. “Wait.”
His face lights up with triumph.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But we put it in writing. Every detail.”
“A handshake isn’t good enough between brothers?” he mocks.
“No. We’ll have a formal contract drafted by independent counsel, with explicit terms for both scenarios. Daniel will contact you shortly.”
Thorne drums his fingers on the desk. “We’ll need an ironclad NDA as part of the package. Complete confidentiality. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, including your bookworm, you forfeit immediately.”
“You mean you want to protect yourself from anyone finding out about your blackmail and extortion,” I shoot back.
His smile falters slightly before turning cold and calculating. “Call it what you want. The NDA is non-negotiable. After all, we’re just two businessmen making a gentleman’s wager. No need for outside interference.”
“I want it stipulated that if she passes your test, you not only leave Kentucky but sign over legal ownership of her building to her directly, not to me. And it needs to be ironclad with no loopholes, no ‘creative interpretations’ like when you reneged on the Marshall property.”
His jaw tightens. “Fine. And when she fails, I want similar ironclad terms for your surrender of your position here and the shares.”
He extends his hand. “Deal.”
We shake, it lingers on my palm like a stain I can’t wash off. I’ve signed away a small piece of my soul. Then it hits me with the force of a sledgehammer, knocking me off-kilter. Thorne’s a mirror image of our father, doing whatever it takes to win. And like our dad, he’ll manipulate and destroy anyone in his way.
“I’ll have my papers drawn up today,” Thorne says, reaching for his phone. “I look forward to running this company, little brother.”
I turn to leave, disgust churning in my gut like poisoned bourbon. This is a mistake that will haunt us both.
“Oh, and Sebastian?” he calls after me. “Every man has his weakness. And I think you are about to know yours. Intimately.”
I walk to the door without looking back, the weight of what I’ve agreed to is suffocating me like an anchor dragging me to hell. I’ve put Rosalia in the crosshairs of my brother’s twisted game. But what choice did he leave me? None. I’m left to save her by destroying any chance we might have had.
Chapter Five
Rosalia
Sunlight streams through the front window of Novel Idea as I unlock it. The rays illuminate the “Road to Derby” poster I’d hung to attract racing enthusiasts. There are eight weeks until the big day, and already tourists are trickling into Louisville, their numbers set to swell as May approaches.
When I hung the sign I was full of excitement. Now, it feels like a countdown to the death of allmy dreams.
I stare down the mostly empty street, melancholy holding me tight. A shiny black car with tinted windows crawls past, probably looking for Paige’s bakery. Besides her place and my bookstore, Whiskey Row’s other businesses don’t open until around noon.
Leaving the door open to let in the spring breeze, I turn from the street and head inside. The familiar scent of paper greets me. The old hardwood floors creak beneath my feet as I make my way to the checkout counter. The quiet, sleepy sounds mingle with the occasional creak of the old building settling. I scan the stuffed shelves lined with rows upon rows of books. A heavy sigh escapes from me, and the urge to cry returns. No surprise, it’s been hanging out with me since the phone call from the lawyer, Daniel, two days ago.
The non-renewal notice still sits open in a tab on my laptop, the corporate letterhead mocking me every time I catch sight of it. Sixty days. That's all I have left in this space I’ve poured my heart into. Sixty days to somehow find a new location, gather enough money for security deposits, cover renovation costs, plan for the inevitable lost revenue during the move, and somehow keep paying off my original loan.
