“Three months of family bonding? I hope you’re ready for what that actually looks like with this family.” The way he says it is a threat.
“OurDad prepared me. I’m familiar with jerks,” Madison shoots back.
For a fourteen-year-old, she doesn't back down. I have to respect that, even if it's inconvenient as hell.
He turns toward the door, then pauses, his gaze finding mine across the table. For one heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going to say something about last night. Instead, his tone turns almost conversational. “Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t going to be a vacation.”
The door closes behind him. The soft click might as well be a cell door locking.
Fury is easy. It's the memories of last night on the train that are going to be the problem.
Chapter Five
Thorne
The Rolls glides through Anchorage traffic like a shark through still water—silent, smooth, inevitable. Through the window, the Kentucky River winds through the valley in the distance. We pass through Bluegrass and horse farms with black fences.
This is home.
I hate that it's home.
I love the land, from the rolling hills to the limestone water that makes our bourbon what it is, and the thick summer air. But it comes with Louis Blackstone's ghost. With memories of being seventeen and stupid enough to think doing the right thing mattered.
Quebec was clean. No ghosts. No memories.
But also no roots. No Sebastian. No Lillianna.
Shaking my head, I look away from the view to my phone. I should be making arrangements with my Quebec team on how I’ll handle international acquisitions remotely while I'm in Kentucky for the next three months. I should be reviewing the environmental files Ivy sent to my phone. Instead, I'm wondering if she bit her lip while typing this email, or if she reserves that for moments when desire overrides logic.
“Sooo,” Lillianna says from her side of the backseat. She draws out the word like she’s savoring it. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
She’s been quiet since we left the Blackstone building. My little sister doesn’t do silence unless she’s planning an ambush, and the way she’s angled with her body turned toward me, one leg tucked under her, tells me she’s locked on her target.
“What waswhatabout, Lilly?” I keep my gaze on my phone, reviewing the preliminary liability assessment Ivy fired off before we'd even left the building.
“Ms. Ivy West.” I keep my eyes on my phone, scrolling faster. “What about her?”
“Don’t.” There's steel in her voice now, the kind that comes from fifteen years of navigating the world on her terms. “Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
I glance at her. She’s got that expression that used to drive our father insane because it meant she’d already figured out whatever secret he was keeping and was just waiting for him toadmit it. I’d forgotten how much I missed that look. How much I’d missed her.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say.
“Thorne.” She taps my knee. “I saw your expression when she first walked into the conference room. Did you two hook up back when she lived here?”
“When did she live here?” I guess that makes sense, given her mother lived in Kentucky all her life.
“Okay, so she’s not part of your past.” Lillianna taps her chin. “But youdoknow her.”
“Yeah, I met her today.”
“Thorne,” my sister grates.
“Lilly,” I mock in the same tone, keeping my expression untroubled, like I have nothing to hide.
“I know you. You’re hiding something.”
“You used to know me. You’ve been living abroad for over a decade, only visiting a few times a year. I’ve changed.” And everyone will agree, not for the better.
