Page 22 of Twisted Knight

“A few weeks back? Like how far back?”

“Through lawyers, like six weeks. In person, a few days after the auction. That’s when he came at us, hard, and after seeing how much he spent on the painting, Rhett knew Knight had money to burn.”

It was me. I gave him all he needed to know. I told him where the weak spot was, and he exploited it.

“What is it?” Chad asks—he must see the guilt on my face. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” I roll my shoulders and draw in a deep breath. “You vetted all this experience he supposedly has?”

His nod followed by a quick swallow doesn’t exactly give me confidence in his response. “Self-made multimillionaire. Sold his software company years ago and has since used those profits to dabble in buying fledgling companies.”

“Dabble? Because that sounds convincing.”

“Look. Rhett was hell-bent on making this deal,” he whispers and looks around as if to make sure no one can hear him.

“Just because one of Rhett’s ideas panned out in the past doesn’t mean they all will,” I say, knowing how ridiculous that sounds when talking about the man who convinced our dad to transition TinSpirits from solely making signature spirits five years ago to making canned mixed cocktails.

It’s what gave this company new life. Opened it up to a different, younger demographic when ours was mostly aging, and what earned him the status of golden child.

Not that he needed any help since he’s the only male grandchild in the Rothschild family. That alone cemented him into anointed status.

“He wants the deal, Row. I don’t know what to tell you.” He scrubs a hand through his normally perfectly styled hair. Right now it’s sticking up at all ends and is a mess. Clearly this whole thing has been hard on him too. “We’ve done nothing but weigh the pros and cons ad nauseum, and he thinks it makes the most sense for your family legacy, for the company’s value, for everyone employed here, to take the deal.”

“He thinks. Yes. Of course. But what about what I think? About what you think?” I shake my head in frustration. I hear what he’s saying but also reject the idea because we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if Rhett hadn’t put us here. “This is bullshit, and you know it.”

“I think we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place and Knight’s offer is a lifeline. The board clearly agrees.”

“Fuck the board,” I state.

“I don’t think that’s really an option,” he jokes, but it falls flat.

I unclench my jaw and try to sort through my cluttered thoughts. How can I stop this? How can I turn this around? How can I sabotage Holden’s due diligence so he walks away? How can I salvage what I’ve never gotten the chance to save and then run?

Sure, Chad and Rhett are considered part of the good ol’ boys club—the blindside only served to prove that—but I know them. I can read them … or at least I thought I could. But bringing in somebody new, somebody like Holden Knight? That’s a whole different ball game.

It’s better to deal with the devil you know.

“We don’t have to see this through,” I say. “We can void the letter of intent somehow. I’m sure our lawyers would know how to do this. Some legal technicality that Knight overlooked. Bring it to your uncle Henry. Your cousins. You have a family full of fucking lawyers. One of them should be able to tell you how to get out of this or how to bend the rules just enough that we can’t get in trouble.”

“That’s a big ask, Row.”

“If Rhett asked, you’d do it, though, wouldn’t you?” I hate the pleading in my tone. The weakness it implies when I need to be anything but if I have a chance at fighting this. “If we can break this intent, then we can try and raise the capital ourselves. I’ve been looking into the benefits of selling off one of our brands. If we did that, we’d be able to keep the company as is while earning enough from the sale to keep moving forward. That would allow the three of us combined to retain the majority ownership. Keep it in the family.”

There’s a flicker in his eyes. A spark. And I’ve known him long enough to sense the idea intrigues him.

“Things are more complicated than that,” he says.

“How? It’s a matter of—”

“I hear what you’re saying but that’s a huge task to accomplish in a short amount of time.”

“Who says there’s a time limit? So long as we can tread water until we figure it out, we’ll be okay.”

“We’ve been treading water for longer than you know. We need capital to stay afloat. We—”

“But don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?”

“You know nothing about doing something like this, Row. The minute you start asking, people will start talking. The wrong kind of talk could yank this deal out from under us before it’s finalized.”