His gaze narrows. “I still have final approval.”
Aiden darts me a look, clearly ready to step in.
My jaw works. “As agreed.”
“I want it done by the end of the summer.”
“I have more time.” More time before I’m dragged to the altar like a prized steer to auction.
“Tristan.” His voice holds warning. “I agreed to this absurd search despite my better judgment. You are making a spectacle of this family. The shares are still mine until you meet the requirements, and I’m under no obligation to step down as CEO when you inherit them. I want the legacy secured with minimal fuss. You have until the end of the summer to find a spouse, or I will die as CEO of Prince Bourbon. That’s my final word.”
Charles Prince might be in his eighties, but he’s still the patriarch of the family and used to being obeyed. I still feel like a child when he takes me to task. Still, somehow, I crave his approval.
I nod. Grandfather dips his chin and walks out. I give him the finger behind his back.
When he’s gone, Aiden exhales a long “fuck.”
I shrug. “I knew it was coming.”
Aiden scrubs a hand over his face. I sling an arm over his shoulder.
“Come on, Aiden. You don’t want to run the company. I do. I need the shares or I’m a CEO with no vote. That will never work. And you know Grandfather. He’d live to a hundred just to spite me and fight me on every decision on the way.”
“Stupid fucking trust,” he grumbles.
I chuckle before I cross to the wall, where an ornate bar cart is pushed up against the wood paneling on the bottom half of the wall. There are at least twenty bottles of Prince bourbon here. All of my siblings’ vintages. Dad’s. Even the ill-advised whiskey he made for our mother.
“I need a drink.”
Aiden’s rough laugh answers me, then the creak of leather and wood as he settles deeper into the chair. “Yeah, today would be a good day for me to start.”
I smile to myself as I pour a glass of Old Kingdom. It’s Whit’s vintage. Distilled the day Whit and Sienna were born, Whit’s first, because he’s four minutes older, and bottled the day they turned eighteen. Aiden and I both helped Dad bottle it and pick the colors for the labels.
Aiden hasn’t had a drink in years, though I’ve seen him and his wife share smirks that make me think they’re doing some freaky shit with the whiskey they make. The smiling and laughing are thanks to her too.
I sink into a chair. The worn leather is soft and creased under the fine wool of my tux. There’s no dust on any of the surfaces in here because Grandfather likes the family museum tidy. I take a quick sip of whiskey, savoring the burn. Whit’s vintage is my favorite. It’s the vintage I’d try to replicate for Aiden’s kids.
“Marriage isn’t so bad,” Aiden says quietly. “Don’t worry.”
“I know. You seem happy.” I keep my voice light. I turn the whiskey glass in my hands, watching the amber liquid catch the lights of the lamps. Prince Bourbon was made to be consumed like this—among family, on special occasions, in moments of quiet contemplation.
“Have you thought more about the announcement?”
I still, my heart hammering in my chest. “I don’t think the time is right.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“The company needs stability. Especially after last year when Grandfather sold the main distillery. Then that mess with the Old Kingdom recipe. We don’t need to shake things up. We don’t need to announce a new CEO yet.”I’m not ready for that.
Aiden considers me. “You want this.” He leans forward. “I know you want this. You’re marrying for this. So what’s the problem?”
“No problem. I just need a little more time. I can run things from the background just fine.”
His eyes narrow on me. “CEOs aren’t in the background. You need to be sure. You’ll need to announce eventually.”
“Trust me, I’m sure. I have so many ideas for things we could do. Hell, I feel like I’m going to break under the weight of them sometimes.” My voice cracks and I take another sip of liquor.
His smile is lopsided. “I know, Tris. You’ve always been like that. You used to run so fast you’d trip over your own feet.”
