ChapterTwenty-Four
Sebastian
My footsteps echo as I follow Daniel down the corridor, my fingers clawing through my hair, nails biting into my scalp. I don’t care if I look unhinged; it matches my roiling insides.
I touch my lips. The taste of Rosalia’s kiss lingers.
My pulse quickens, recalling how her body melted against mine, how perfectly she fit in my arms. The memory alone makes my skin flush hot beneath my collar.
But as the initial euphoria fades, reality crashes in.
She’s working with Thorne. My brother. The man whose very existence threatens everything I’ve sacrificed years to build.
We reach the polished bar in the main ballroom. Daniel leans against the agarwood surface, his usual easy grin gone. I know him too well. He’s about to lecture me on the incredible kiss that captivated me, and now is suffocating me with guilt.
Yet after we order our drinks, he returns to staring at me. Annoyed, I roll my hand in an out-with-it gesture. “Say what you want to say.”
“Your bookstore bet seems to be going well. Does what I saw mean you’re taking my advice and trusting her?”
I scowl, tapping an agitated rhythm on the polished bar. I avoid Daniel’s gaze, focusing instead on the bartender mixing our drinks. “Trust her? Not a chance. I might understand why she’s doing what she’s doing, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my heart.”
Daniel’s brows raise. “And yet…”
I snort. “That wasn’t my heart doing the thinking…
” That isn’t the whole truth. Yeah, I was turned on, but what I feel around her is more than lust. I press my thumb against the condensation on the bar top, drawing jagged patterns that mirror the chaos she’s creating in me.
“I can’t help myself, dammit. When I’m near her, it’s like gravity. ”
"What if she's acting," I mutter, running my thumb over my lower lip, the phantom press of her mouth still lingers against mine. Even now, well away from her, my body responds to the mere thought of her. She seems real. Genuine.
“What if she’s not?” Daniel counters.
The way she responded to my kiss didn’t feel fake. I shake my head and mutter, “I need to figure it out before I lose myself completely.”
Daniel’s staring again. “What?” I nearly growl.
“I’ve never seen you like this with anyone. Not with any girls you dated in college or even Tiffany. You’re scared,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “And not just of losing the company. ”
I scoff. “Let me remind you again, psychoanalysis isn’t in your job description, counselor.”
“Stop deflecting.” Daniel leans in, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Every time someone gets close, you find a reason why it won’t work.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, but the words are hollow.
“Don’t I? You’d rather believe Rosalia is acting than consider the possibility that she might actually care about you. Because if she does, and you let yourself care back, you might have to face that you’re not as unbreakable as you pretend to be.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it. The uncomfortable truth of his words settles in my gut like a stone. With a slight shake of his head, Daniel says, “You’ve backed yourself into a tough spot with her and this bet.”
“No shit.” I square my shoulders as if bracing for a fight. Which I am. I can’t afford to show weakness, not now, not with so much at stake.
“But what if she doesn’t go through with it?” Daniel asks.
“What if she does?” I counter.
“Then it sucks. I honestly can’t blame her, but if I were in your shoes, things would be over.”
“Besides all this, there’s more at stake than my damn ego.” I knock my fist on the bar top. “At this distillery alone, I have at least two thousand people working for me. Many for decades, but my brother would let them go if it’d save the company a short-term nickel."
“Okay, so fine, you’re in this mess. A big one. What do you plan to do to get out of it? Do you plan to make her fall for you so she doesn’t help Thorne, then dump her because you don’t trust her?”
“Fuck, I don’t know what to do,” I hiss. “I want her, but can’t trust her.”
Maybe that’s the answer. I could have her, be with her, but keep my heart out of it. We give in to our desires, but nothing more. At least until I’m sure I can trust her. Could I do that? I already like her way too much .
What scares me isn’t that I like her despite her lies, it’s the possibility that I could fall. With Rosalia, I catch glimpses of the man I could be if I weren’t so damn guarded. She makes me want things I’d convinced myself I didn’t need.
“The truth is,” I say, lowering my voice, "letting someone in again feels like handing them a loaded gun and hoping they don’t pull the trigger.”
“Just because there were some people who were supposed to have your back and didn’t, doesn’t mean everyone’s out to make you bleed,” Daniel tells me.
I’m not so obtuse as to miss that he is also referring to himself. But Thorne is my damn brother. Tiffany was my wife. Neither of them showed me an ounce of loyalty. How can I trust a friend who works for me?
I hear how paranoid I sound, but I can’t stop. It’s like a sickness, this need to find the angle, the hidden motive. And as if reading my mind, Daniel says, “If I left Blackstone, if you didn’t sign my paychecks, would that change things? I could put my two weeks in now.”
“Yeah, it’d make a difference. I’d be pissed.” I mean it. Daniel is our best lawyer. And I do trust him with Blackstone Bourbon. However, the offer to leave does mean something. Maybe Daniel is a real friend. “And I get your point.”
“Cool. Does that mean I can finally give you the friendship bracelet I made us?” Daniel quips, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Only if it’s made from gold thread,” I counter with a smirk, folding my arms across my chest.
Daniel chuckles. “Elitist asshole.” The bartender sets three of our drinks on the bar, telling us she needs another minute to make the last cocktail. “Did you have to order Rosalia a Vieux Carre?” he asks.
I shrug. “She wanted to be surprised. And at least I didn’t get her a Commonwealth.”
“Shit, we’ll be waiting until dawn.” Daniel takes a sip of his drink and leans closer. “What I’m about to say is as your friend, not as a Blackstone’s lawyer, got it?”
Ignoring my drink, I focus on Daniel. “Okay… ”
“Loan her the money. Then she won’t need Thorne. Sure, she’ll have to move, but so what? There are other great locations besides Whiskey Row. Then she could be with you for you.”
My gaze moves over the crowded room, ignoring the details and people, considering the suggestion. The idea holds appeal but has two major flaws. “No, if my brother found out I’d cheated—”
“And you don’t think he’s stacking the deck?”
“I’m certain he would, but I can’t see how.
” I push away from the bar, pace a few steps, then return.
Thorne has visited Rosalia at her bookstore, and I’m certain he orchestrated that fight between us during our horseback ride.
“Even if he is cheating, I can’t do what you’re suggesting.
If I give her a store, I’d never know if she’s with me out of obligation. ”
Daniel tilts his head back and forth as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, I can see that.”
The bartender returns, sliding Rosalia’s drink across the bar. I shove a fifty in the tip jar. “Come on, we’d better get back.”
With drinks in hand, we weave our way through the crowded ballroom, dodging dancing couples and chattering guests. As we near the French doors leading to the rose garden, I catch a glimpse of Anna and Rosalia talking. I freeze mid-step, watching her from afar.
Rosalia laughs at something Anna says, her head tilted back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.
The sight hits me like a physical blow. My breath catches in my throat.
I have to force myself to breathe normally, to keep my expression neutral even as my heart hammers against my ribcage.
She’s captivating, radiant in the moonlight against the backdrop of roses, somehow outshining even the night’s splendor.
“You going to stare all night or actually give her that drink?” Daniel murmurs beside me.
I shoot him a glare, but start moving again. “Remember what we discussed. Not a word. ”
“Your secret’s safe,” he says with a wry grin that tells me he’s enjoying my discomfort far too much.
Taking a steadying breath, I step out into the garden, the cool night air a balm to my heated skin. Rosalia turns at our approach, and when her eyes meet mine, the smile that curves her lips makes my chest tighten with a dangerous mix of desire and doubt.
One thing becomes crystal clear as I hand her the drink, our fingers brushing for a fraction longer than necessary: I’m playing with fire. And despite everything I’ve built, everything I stand to lose, I’m not sure I want to stop the burn.