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 was what about, 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 to admit 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 you do know 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.
“Not as much as you think,” she tosses back. “You’re doing that thing where you keep scrolling but your eyes never focus. You’re not reading anything. You’re trying to look busy so people won't ask questions.”
Fuck. I set the phone down and give her my signature cold stare that makes people back down. Works on everyone but my sister. “Every time Ivy spoke in that boardroom, you looked like you wanted to either screw her or throw her out a window.”
“Let’s go with throwing her out the window.”
Never mind the way my heart skipped a beat, and not just because seeing her in the conference room had been a surprise. My blackened heart had been happy to see her for half a second before the weight of my consequences crushed it.
“Uh-huh,” hums Lillianna.
Christ. “Drop it.”
“Why? Because I’m right?” She raises an eyebrow. “Because from where I was sitting, the tension between you two could've powered the entire building.”
The partition between the driver and us is up, but I still keep my voice low. “I said, drop it, Lilly.”
"No." She settles against the leather seat, and I recognize the posture. My pain-in-the-ass little sister is digging in. “You’ve been in Quebec for three years. Three years of flying in for mandatory board meetings and flying back out before anyone could have an actual conversation with you. Now suddenly you’re staying for three months? Living with a teenager who’s threatening our family?
There’s a reason, and I don’t think it has to do with environmental liability. ”
Outside the window, Kentucky hills roll past, thick, green, and hazy in the summer heat. Horse farms, bourbon country, Blackstone territory. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed it, even though coming back always feels like walking into a trap.
“Maybe I just want to help Sebastian,” I say.
“Nope.” The word is soft but absolute. Like the thought of me helping anyone but myself is inconceivable. “Sure, you might have meant what you said about not leaving him in the lurch. I could see that. But that’s not the whole story and we both know it.”
I turn to face her fully and my chest tightens. She's almost thirty-three, not the thirteen-year-old who used to follow me around like I hung the moon.
Now her eyes hold a sharp glint that refuses to let me hide. “When did you get so perceptive?” I ask.
“I’ve always been perceptive. You just haven’t been around to notice. Even when you lived here.” There’s no accusation in her tone, but the words land like a punch anyway. Maybe Sebastian isn’t the only one I need to make amends with.
“Lil—”
“I’m not mad,” she says quickly. “I get why you left. Why you needed to get away from—”
“Dad. I needed to get away from Dad. From the man I had become. It was never about you, Mom, or Sebastian.”
She holds up a hand. “I know. I get it. Dad’s a big reason I left and spent fifteen years traveling the world.”
“Yeah, but he’s not the only reason.” She didn’t leave because she’d become a rotten, soulless person like me. But a man as terrible as me had broken her heart and soul. First loves aren’t supposed to break a person.
“Doesn’t matter,” she says firmly, making it clear the topic of Olivier isn’t up for discussion. “Anyway, I get it. I just missed you.”
The admission catches me off guard. We don’t do vulnerable in this family. We do power plays and strategic alliances and carefully maintained facades. Emotions are weaknesses to be exploited.
But Lillianna was never good at that rule. She never believed in them.
“I missed you too,” I say, meaning it.
“Of course you do. I’m a ray of fucking sunshine. Everyone misses the sun.” Her familiar mischievous smile spreads across her face. Fuck. “Now that we have that heartwarming moment out of the way, want to tell me about Madison’s sister?”
“Please don’t call her that.”
Somehow her grin widens. “Any reason why, Brother, you don’t want me to refer to our half-sister’s guardian as her sister? Feels too much like you’re keeping it in the family?” she laughs.
I should lie. Should deflect. Should do what I've always done and keep my cards close to my chest.
“Ivy isn’t family. She and Madison share a mother, not a father.”
“Ivy…” Her eyes widen. “You do know her.”
“She was introduced as Ivy West,” I deadpan.
“Yes, but you say it with familiarity. Like you know her. Intimately.”
I don’t know her, but I can’t forget her.
And I sure as hell can't forget the way she'd laughed, soft and surprised, right before I kissed her goodbye. Like she hadn't expected to find me funny, hadn't planned on liking me at all. That laugh has been playing on repeat in my head ever since.
Admitting defeat, I glance at the divider between the driver and us. It’s still closed. I nod at my sister. “I have met her before today.”
Lillianna’s mouth falls open. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Last—” She sits up straighter, and I can see her mind racing. “Wait. You met her the night before the blackmail meeting? How?”
“On the train.” I keep my voice neutral, like I’m discussing a simple acquisition. “We talked, but didn’t get into personal info.”
“Oh my God. You did more than talk.” Her hand covers her mouth, but I can see she’s fighting a smile. “You slept with her.”
I don't confirm or deny. I don’t need to. My sister can read me like a balance sheet.
“Thorne.” The glee in her voice tells me she’s enjoying this way too much. The troublemaker. “You slept with the guardian of the girl who’s blackmailing our family. The night before she walked into that boardroom.”
“When you say it like that—”
“It sounds insane? Because it is insane.” She laughs, sharp and delighted. “No wonder you looked like you wanted to combust every time she spoke. Does she know you’re staying because of her?”
"Don't make this into something it's not, Lilly." I’m here to help Sebastian. Our family. I might not be able to forget how perfect she felt, but it was incredible sex, that’s all.
The look Lillianna gives me could cut glass.
“I’m staying because of the environmental liability,” I reiterate. “Because Sebastian needs backup. Because—”
“Because you’re drawn to her,” Lillianna finishes. “And because the idea of her living in our house for three months while you pretend nothing happened is either the worst idea you’ve ever had or the most interesting.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” I remind her. “It was the little blackmailer.”
“But you went along with it. I know you, brother, if you wanted out of it, you’d have made it happen.”
I want to argue, but the Rolls is pulling up to my house. The driver will open the door in thirty seconds, and this conversation will be over.
And she’s right. No one makes me do what I don’t want to do.
“It’s complicated,” I finally say.
"Everything with you is complicated." She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
Just once, brief and warm. "But for what it's worth? I’m glad you’re staying.
Not because of the environmental stuff or Sebastian or even Ms. Ivy West. Because you've been hiding for three years, licking your wounds.
The only way they will heal is if you stay here, righting your wrongs. "
My jaw tightens. Always my wrongs. My mistakes. Like I invented being a Blackstone bastard all on my own. Like Dad didn’t pave, or hell, push me down that road.
The driver opens her door. My sister slides out with easy grace, then pauses and leans back in.
“Also,” she says, her grin returning, “this is going to be the most entertaining three months of my life. Living with you, a teenager with blackmail material, and the woman you’re clearly hung up on? I should sell tickets.”
“I’m not hung up—”
But she’s already walking toward the entrance, her laughter floating back on the humid Kentucky air.
I sit in the Rolls for another moment, watching her go. My little sister. The one person in this family who still looks at me like I’m worth saving.
My phone buzzes. Another email from Ivy—no, Attorney West. More environmental reports.
I think about her in that boardroom. The way she’d flinched when I called Madison’s stunt hostage negotiation. The way she’d looked at me when I said I was staying, like I’d just signed both our death warrants.
Three months.
Christ.
I open the car door and step out into the sun and heat. Whatever I’ve just gotten myself into, there’s no backing out now.
The question is whether I'm staying to fix the environmental crisis, prove myself to Sebastian, or because the memory of Ivy gasping my name is the only thing I've wanted to think about since she walked through that door and I realized the universe has a vicious sense of humor.
Probably all three.
Definitely fucked.