Page 110 of The Bourbon Bet
“I tried, but I made things worse.” I look down, uncomfortable. “When this started, I had no idea about your lease until Thorne mentioned he’d bought the hotel next door. So I asked him to leave you alone.”
“Why is that bad?”
“Because I need to work on my poker face. He saw I was interested in you and used that to get to me. I’m sorry.”
She rests a hand on my arm, and the ache in my chest loosens. “How so?” she asks.
“He refused. And then…” I sigh. “He threatened that if I didn’t agree to the bet, he would make sure you never opened another bookstore in Kentucky. Said he’d blacklist you with every bank and property owner from Louisville to Lexington.”
She sucks in a quick breath through clenched teeth. “So you agreed to protect me.”
I hesitate. I’d love to be the hero in her story, but complete honesty is the only way forward. “Partly, yes. I didn’t want to see your business destroyed. But…” Taking a fortifying breath, I hold her gaze. “My brother knows exactly how to manipulate me. He played on my deepest insecurity.”
She takes my hand and squeezes gently. I take it as a silent encouragement to go on.
“The truth is, part of me wanted to know if I could trust you. This is going to sound like ‘poor little rich boy,’ but people see the Blackstone name and see opportunity, not me. When Thorne suggested this ‘test’ of character…” I shake my head, ashamed. “A part of me thought maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to be sure.”
She cocks her head. “And what did you risk? What would have happened if you had lost? Daniel never specified.”
I rub the back of my neck. “If you’d taken that portfolio, I would have had to step down as master distiller—the position Thorne always thought should be his. And sell my controlling shares to him at half their value.”
She pulls back slightly. “That’s… a lot to gamble.”
“Yeah, that’s why Thorne’s the gambler. He sees angles and advantages and loves the thrill of the risk. Meanwhile, I couldn’t think straight with his threats hanging over you, and the possibility of being free of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I’d won, Thorne had to leave our flagship distillery here in Kentucky. He also had to sign over ownership of your building to you. Free and clear.”
Her expression softens. She’s looking at me like some kind of hero. “You did that for me?”
“Did you hear the other part that drove me—him leaving?”
“Given your past with him, I can’t blame you.” Her grip tightens on mine, punctuating her point. “I don’t blame you.”
I look at our joined hands. “You know, Thorne and I weren’t always like this. As kids, we were actually close. We’d spend entire summers together, racing horses through the fields, exploring every corner of the estate. When our parents threw their endless business parties, we’d sneak off, finding our own adventures.”
“That does sound amazing.”
I grin, pulling up another memory I’d forgotten. “As a kid, Lillianna was scared of thunderstorms, so Thorne would make up these elaborate stories to distract her. He was good at that, looking out for people he cared about.” My smile fades. “But everything changed when we hit our teens and Dad saw us as assets to his bourbon empire. He started pitting us against each other, treating every accomplishment like a competition. We were his business, and it became a battleground.”
Rosalia’s fingers tighten around mine, a silent reassurance. “It sounds like you lost your brother long before you lost your wife.”
Her insight catches me off guard, the simple truth of it striking deep. I nod slowly. “I think you’re right. By the time Tiffany came between us, we were already strangers wearing the same last name.”
My words emerge barely louder than my heartbeat. “But you showed me something different. You chose integrity over self-interest, even knowing it would cost you everything you’d worked for. When Thorne told me what you’d done at the derby party, how you’d refused to take the portfolio even after everything—” The words snag in my throat. “I’ve never been more ashamed of my part in this, or more certain of how I feel about you. I meant what I said, Rosalia. I love you. Everything else, the company, the money, all of it means nothing compared to that.”
“I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about trust. About how hard it is to give, how easily it breaks,” she tells me, and the steel in her words gives way to something raw and unguarded. “The strange thing is, even with all the secrets between us, I was happy with you. We both were.”
Does that mean this is all in the past? Or does she mean there’s hope for a future together? “Tell me what you mean. Please.” I sound desperate, but don’t care.
A small smile plays at her lips. “If we could find that much joy with walls between us, imagine how much better it will be now that everything’s out in the open.”
Hope burns in me. “Do you mean…”
“I love you too, Sebastian.” Her confession seeps into the cracks of my fractured confidence, reclaiming territories I’d surrendered to doubt. “Despite everything, despite the mess we made, I love you. And I’m tired of letting fear keep us apart.”
Something inside me loosens, a tightness I’ve carried for months finally releasing. I’m overwhelmed by the simple relief of hearing those words from her. I take a deep breath, letting the reality of this moment, of her here, with me, choosing to try again, sink in.
