“What about your responsibilities in Quebec?” Sebastian asks.
"Our international deals are smaller volume than domestic. I can manage remotely for a few months." His attention shifts to Madison with predatory focus. "This isn't about family bonding. This is damage control. And I'm very good at damage control."
Sebastian’s chair scrapes as he shifts. “This is on me, not you. I should have vetted those properties more carefully, not just taken Dad’s word, especially given my environmental platform. I trusted his judgment on the acquisitions.”
Thorne shakes his head. “And I signed off on them. My signature, my responsibility. Besides Bastian, you’ve got the distillery and a panicked board breathing down your neck. I’ve got acquisition investors who'll pull funding the second they smell an environmental liability.”
They look at each other, and a silent conversation passes between the brothers, a weight of history I don’t understand.
"We fix this together or we go down together. I’m not leaving you in the lurch this time.” Thorne finishes.
This time.
Sebastian’s expression shifts to surprise, or maybe gratitude, or maybe suspicion. I can’t tell.
I recall the rumors about the Blackstone brothers. That they barely spoke. And there was some blowup during Derby a few years back, and Thorne abandoned the family flagship business for Quebec. They are supposed to be rivals, not allies.
But the man across from me isn’t acting like someone who hates his brother. More like someone trying to make amends.
Madison sits up straighter with a flush creeping up her neck. “So I’m staying with Thorne and Lillianna?”
“Yes,” Lillianna replies at the same time Thorne mutters a defeated, “Fucking-A.”
This is not happening. This cannot be happening.
But I didn't come all this way to abandon her to a room full of Blackstones who see her as a liability. If she stays, I stay. It's that simple and that terrible.
And yet here I am. Moving in with the man while pretending I don't know exactly how he sounds when he comes.
“We’re staying,” I sigh, slumping into my chair. “If my work allows me to work remotely on my other cases while working on this case.”
“They’ll allow you,” says everyone in the conference room.
Thorne turns to Madison. “You might think you’ve won, but let’s be clear about something, kid. You want to play power games with the Blackstone name? Fine. But I've been playing these games longer than you've been alive.”
“I’m not playing games.” Madison’s voice wavers, but she doesn’t look away.
He snorts, “If you say so.”
Madison crosses her arms. “I’m not your enemy.”
“Yes, you are.”
I don’t agree with what Madison is doing, but Thorne’s constant coldness toward everyone makes me hate him a little more.
“You walk in here, drop a bomb about environmental crimes, threaten to go to the press, and demand we play house with you for three months. That’s not family bonding, that’s hostage negotiation,” he finishes.
“Maybe,” Madison admits with a shrug that’s pure Blackstone arrogance. “But it’s the only way I knew you’d listen.”
“Oh, you’ve got my attention, but I think you’ll learn real soon that isn’t a good thing.” Thorne leans forward, and his gravelly voice makes my pulse jump for all the wrong reasons. “In fact, something tells me that you’ll be running to New York a lot sooner than three months.”
Madison lifts her chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will.” Thorne’s smile is all teeth and no warmth.
He pushes back from the table and stands, the scrape of his chair against the floor cutting through the tension. The rest of the Blackstones rise a beat later. He turns his attention back to Madison. “Three months. That’s what you want, right?”
My sister nods.
