“Not today. This is an exclusive interview, not a feature spread.” She sets a small recorder on the table between us. “May I record our conversation?”
My gaze drifts past the recorder to the antique table across the room. The one where Madison’s distillery papers had been spread out before Ivy’s body scattered them to the floor. I focus on where Ivy’s hands had gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as she arched beneath me, recalling the way she’d whispered “Right there” as I drove into her, the way she’d looked at me when she came apart completely.
I clear my throat. “Yes.” The words are gravel scraping across my flare of desires. “Yes, you can record the interview.”
She presses a button and begins. “I’m speaking with Thorne Blackstone, Head of Acquisitions for Blackstone Bourbon. Thank you for granting this rare interview, Mr. Blackstone.” I nod and she continues. “You're known as the driving force behind Blackstone's aggressive acquisition strategy. Is that what brought you back to Kentucky, or was it something more personal?
“Both.”
“Care to elaborate?”
No. “While my father was mostly retired, his death has caused some ripples. I’m working with my siblings on them, then I’m returning to Quebec.”
“Speaking of your siblings. The Blackstones are Kentucky royalty — yet none of you court the press. You avoid it entirely. Why?”
“The spotlight isn’t necessary for good business.”
She smiles, sensing an opening. “And yet, recently, your family has found itself in it again. There’s been considerable interest in the two women recently staying at your estate. Can you clarify her relationship to the Blackstone family?”
We'd agreed to get ahead of the rumors about Madison. Control the story before it controlled us.
“Madison Payne is my half-sister,” I say without fanfare, wanting to get this part over with. “The daughter of my father, Louis Blackstone, from a relationship outside his marriage to my mother.”
“This seems to be a recent revelation to the public. Has Madison always been acknowledged by your family?”
The question probes at our carefully constructed narrative. “My father acknowledged Madison as his daughter, but didn’t tell us specifically.” I’m matter-of-fact, despite the complicated truth. Another Blackstone family secret, filed away like an uncomfortable board report. “But Madison only recently reached out to connect with us following our father’s passing.”
“So to be clear,” Cassandra presses, “your father had an affair when you and your siblings were already adults, resulting in a child who’s now fourteen?”
I shift in my seat, jaw tightening. “Yes. My father’s personal choices are not something I care to discuss in detail.”
“And your family has embraced this connection? Your mother? Is that why she left for Europe?” She leans forwardslightly, her perfume wafting across the space between us, clearly sensing my discomfort with this line of questioning.
“My mother knows of Madison, and while she isn’t happy with her husband’s choices, she recognizes that a child shouldn’t pay for his sins,” I say, measuring each word like I’m pouring a precise measure of bourbon. “We’re getting to know each other. Family relationships take time to develop.”
“Particularly when they emerge under complicated circumstances,” Cassandra observes. “Your father’s recent passing was rather sudden, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes. It was a car accident.” I deliver this with the same detachment I use in acquisition meetings when I’m shutting down further discussion.
“There’s been speculation about the nature of his accident.” Her gaze is laser-focused on me. “And whether Madison’s mom might have been with hi—”
“My father’s accident was tragic.” My voice hardens. “Its details are painful for our family. Madison reached out after she lost both her parents. How she lost them doesn’t need to be entertainment for your readers.”
“I apologize,” Cassandra says, not sounding sorry. But if she changes the subject, I don’t give a shit. “Let's shift to Blackstone’s environmental initiatives. Your company has been working hard to reduce its carbon footprint, well ahead of other distilleries. Is this a response to industry trends or something else?”
This wasn’t the pivot I’d expected, but it’s welcome compared to more questions about my father’s accident.
“Neither. Sustainability is good business,” I tell her, shifting back into my role as Blackstone businessman. “The bourbon industry depends on clean water and healthy grain crops. Protecting those resources is protecting our future.”
“Speaking of environmental concerns, there are reports that an environmental attorney from New York has been staying at your estate. Ivy West, I believe?” Her tone is casual, but her eyes are sharp.
The mere mention of Ivy’s name sends a current of tension through me. I keep my expression neutral with effort.
“Ms. West originally came here as Madison’s guardian.”
“Why her?”
“She is Madison’s half-sister.”
