His eyes narrow. “Is that what you think? I have always wanted what’s best for you. Your father is the one who decided to raise Aiden as the Heir and you as the spare. I would never have done that. I’ve seen the potential in you from day one, but you don’twant it, Tristan. Not the way I need you to. At least now you’re standing up for something. At least you’re taking a risk. The wrong kind, but the point stands.”
I back out of his office, feeling sick to my stomach.
“One week,” he shouts from behind me. “Or I’m kicking you out of the company.”
I’m halfwayto my house when Mac calls.
My greeting is cut off by his ominous, “Tristan, we have a problem.”
My stomach sinks. “Why are you calling me about it and not Aiden? Or Charles?”
He snorts into the phone. “You’re going to be CEO, right? You talked about it that night when we were out at the bar.”
I grimace. Loose lips sink ships and all that, but damn, Mac is like a father figure to me, and I was so proud at the time to be taking over Prince Bourbon.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. It might not be me.” It almost certainly won’t be after today.
“That’s why I’m calling.” There’s a sound of conversation behind him and then a door shutting. The voices are gone. “It has to be you, Tristan. People here, well, there are rumblings that the Prince family doesn’t have a direction for the company. The senior distillers are talking about quitting. Especially now that I’m retiring. Amanda’s been interviewing with a competitor. Shit, Tristan, I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you spent months with us. You know how much we care. I know how much you care too.”
My stomach rolls. The senior distillers each have over twenty years of experience. Amanda, Mac’s daughter, started making whiskey at fifteen. She’s the one who helps me with new yeast strains. Her knowledge is invaluable to us, which means it is doubly so to a competitor. I lean weakly against the low wall at the entrance to the formal garden. I spent months with the senior distillers. I met their families. I spoke to every employee, from the security guards and the cleaning crew to the interns.
“What can I do?”
“You can start by announcing that you’re taking over. People here need to see some leadership. There’s been toomuch upheaval between your father, god rest his soul, and then the mess with the Hart’s Hill distillery and the Old Kingdom bottles.” His voice is urgent. I’ve never heard Mac speak so quickly. He’s thoughtful and steady. Quiet, even. He doesn’t panic, but he’s panicking now, which means things are even worse than he’s letting on. “They need to feel like they’re part of something. And even then, hell, Tristan, I don’t know.”
“Even then what?”
“Even then, it might not be enough to keep people from leaving when I do.”
“If they leave, we have nothing. Prince Bourbon is nothing without the people.”
He sighs into the phone. “Exactly.”
We hang up, and I start the long walk back, thoughts swirling. I have to fix this. I have to get Katie to fall in love with me and I have to keep my family company from failing. And I have one week to do it.
45
KATIE
By five p.m. Sunday evening, I’m stewing in frustration. Emory is lying on her stomach on the floor and paging through one of the many college magazines I’ve collected over the past few months, trying her best to distract me. There’s an ache that’s taken up residence behind my ribs and doesn’t seem to show signs of abating. I guess this is how I live now—one little piece of me has been sacrificed on the altar of Tristan Prince.
It’srude, is what it is.
I putter in the kitchen, equal parts annoyed at myself for not just walking up to Tristan and pulling him off his horse and yelling in his face, and annoyed at him for avoiding me.
“Look at this,” she calls over her shoulder.
“I probably know it by heart,” I call back. “You want tea or wine?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
I pour two glasses, just a small one for me, even though Nour’s strict instructions were to stop working for the day and never come back.
“The dorms are like luxury apartment complexes.” Emory flips a page. “Almost makes me want to go back.”
I settle on the floor next to her, my back to the couch. “Almost?”
Emory grins at me. “Well, I did go to college with Aiden.”
