Page 27 of Twisted Knight

The sand on my calves itches, and when I shift my legs to abate it, I realize just how sore they are from the miles I ran on the beach. My eyes burn from the aimless driving afterward. Anything to process my brother’s betrayal.

How could he do this to me?

How did our parents let him? And them knowing and not telling me makes it all hurt that much more.

I turn on my signal and make a right into his gated community. The guard peers into my Range Rover, recognizes me, and with the warmest smile I’ve had today, allows me through.

My heart thumps and dread sinks into the pit of my stomach. But resolve reigns.

I shouldn’t be here. I make a right onto Birdsong Lane. This isn’t going to help.

Yet, I don’t turn back.

“What would you have done, Cassie? Would you take this lying down?” A bittersweet smile ghosts my lips as I picture her frozen in time as her seventeen-year-old self. “Maybe. Probably.”

I miss my twin sister. Every minute of every day. Maybe she could have been my ally here. Maybe I wouldn’t be alone—a Rothschild in name only, it seems.

As I pull to a stop at the curb, the ninth hole of the Westmore Country Club golf course glows in the golden hour just behind Rhett’s house. Logic screams inside my head to give it the weekend before I accost and accuse him—to go home and think this all through and develop a game plan first.

But my heart, and everything inside me, says to charge on. To not spend another minute with this hurt trapped inside.

He opens after my second knock. Rhett stands there with an unapologetic look on his face that I don’t miss a beat trying to change. “What kind of chickenshit move was that? You went behind my back like some dickless coward and agreed to sell the majority ownership of our company to some random asshole we don’t even know. It’s our company, Rhett. Our livelihoods. Our fucking futures.”

“It’s still ours, Row. There’s just less of it now.”

“Wow.” I just stare at him in his ignorance.

“If you’re worried he’s going to change the ad campaign, that you won’t get to model anymore, I already negotiated that as part of the deal.”

I chortle as I stare at him in disbelief. “That’s what you think I’m worried about? Remaining the spokesperson?” I snort. “You’re the biggest, most selfish bastard I’ve ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His hand is propped on the door, and he’s yet to invite me in.

Does he really not see the problem or is he so blinded by the idea of a bailout and erasing the errors he’s made, so focused on the influx of capital, that he doesn’t care about anything else?

“It means that you sold majority ownership to a man we don’t know. A man I don’t have a good feeling about. Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

“It was on a need-to-know basis. Board stuff.” The asshole winks and my fists clench in reaction. I’ve never thrown a punch at my brother but there’s always a first time for everything.

“He’ll have total control, Rhett. You just handed him the fucking keys. He can veto anything we want to do and undo anything we’ve already done.” I point at him, my finger shaking in the air. “He’ll be in charge. Not you. Not Chad. He will be.”

“Knight doesn’t know shit about alcohol. Not the distillery side. Not the manufacturing side. Not the marketing side. Other than how to consume it, he’s clueless.”

“And you don’t think that’s a problem?” I say the words, but something tells me Holden Knight is far from clueless about any venture he takes on.

“No, more like, it’s perfect. He’s clean as a fucking whistle and richer than shit, so his lack of knowledge will work to our benefit. He’s going to need us as much as we need him.”

I snort at his naivety. There is nothing simple or uncalculating about Holden Knight. Call it gut instinct, a hunch, but I doubt he needs anything from anyone. “You’re…” Unbelievable. An asshole. Shortsighted.

“I’m what? You’re the one who hooked up with him. Not me.” What the fuck? “Yep. Your little balcony convo with him didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone’s talking about how you slipped out early from the auction and they’re saying it was with him.”

“You’re about two seconds away from being kneed in the balls,” I grit out as his smirk taunts.

“So it’s not true, then? You didn’t dig your claws in Westmore’s newest eligible bachelor?”

“I’m warning you,” I threaten.

“I wasn’t the one trying to sleep my way into keeping my job.”