Then maybe we can figure out who we are together.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Thorne
I step into the boardroom in the main building of Blackstone Distillery. Through the windows behind Sebastian's head, the rickhouses dot the property, dark silhouettes against the afternoon sky.
Eight faces turn toward me.
As master distiller and CEO, Sebastian sits at the head of the table. The sight no longer eats at me the way it once did. Lillianna is in the chair to his right, her expression unreadable,but I know how she'll vote. It's everyone else, including my brother, that has my heart pounding and my body aching for two fingers of bourbon to calm me.
The empty chair to Sebastian's left waits for me. The spot Hartwell hopes to fill.
Instead, he sits on the sidelines with the other shareholders, his comb-over slightly askew, jowls sagging with barely contained satisfaction.
I walk to my seat and sit down. Don't apologize. Don't explain. Then I meet each person's gaze in turn.
Elena Rodriguez, head of operations, taps her pen against her notepad. Fifteen years with Blackstone, and she's never once weighed in on family politics. I have no idea which way she'll lean.
Tom Cooper from marketing. Patricia Walsh from distribution. David Okonkwo from finance. Faces of others who've been here since before I took over acquisitions.
And Warren Hartwell. Always Hartwell, with his careful bookkeeping and his long memory.
"Let's begin." Sebastian's fingers drum once on the table before going still. "The vote is straightforward. Does Thorne Blackstone retain his position as chief acquisitions officer and his seat on this board, or do we remove him from leadership?"
My pulse hammers against my collar. I force myself to breathe normally. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The same technique I use before major negotiations. Except this time, I'm the one being negotiated.
In all my arrogance, I never thought this moment would actually come. But Hartwell's been waiting for exactly this kind of opening, and he took it.
Hartwell leans forward. "Before we vote, I think the board deserves context." He looks directly at me. "Thorne thinks theBlackstone name makes him invincible, but can we trust the choices he makes on behalf of this distillery?"
"We've all read your concerns in the email calling this meeting, Warren," Sebastian says. "But Thorne should have an opportunity to address the board before we vote."
Hartwell’s mouth tightens, but he nods.
Sebastian looks at me. "Thorne?"
I stand and the room goes quiet. Hartwell’s satisfied smirk tells me he thinks this is theater. A desperate man's last play.
Maybe he's right.
"I'm not going to waste your time." I meet their eyes one by one. "Hartwell’s right that I've made questionable decisions. Pushed boundaries. The photographs he's referring to showed poor judgment on my part."
Hartwell leans back, clearly pleased.
"But those same instincts that sometimes push boundaries have also made this company a fortune. Acquisitions under my leadership, both domestic and international, are up forty-two percent. I've identified opportunities our competitors missed because they were too conservative or too slow."
I lean forward, hands flat on the table.
"So here's what you need to decide. Whether one mistake outweighs years of consistent results. Whether perception matters more than performance."
I straighten. "If you want me gone, vote me out. I'll cooperate with the transition. If you keep me, you're keeping someone who delivers results" I meet Hartwell’s gaze. "And won't bury problems when they surface."
I sit down.
The interim board chair nods. "Does anyone have questions for Mr. Blackstone?"
Sebastian leans forward. My stomach drops.
