Page 33 of Twisted Knight

“Then there’s Chad. I can’t quite figure out what your relationship is with him, but it’s more than clear by how many times he goes in and out of your office all day that it’s a close one.”

Ah, so he is watching and assessing after all. No doubt Audrey might have a hand in that too. What he doesn’t know is that I refuse to talk to Rhett right now. His betrayal still sits front and center for me, so Chad has been given the unfortunate task of being the go-between.

Do I despise my brother right now? Of course I do. But the last thing I want Holden Knight to know is that there is a fissure between us. Fissures can be exploited. Taken advantage of. Used against you.

I’ve already given him the advantage once. I won’t make that mistake again.

“You’re not responding.” Irritation peppers his tone. No doubt he’s used to people being intimidated by him.

“Here’s what I don’t get.” I stop at the window and look his way, still not giving him what he wants. “What’s a man with your background, your expertise in computer software, want with a company that sells alcohol. Spirits?”

“Vices.”

“So you like to exploit things. People. Norms.”

His chuckle is a low rumble that reverberates through the room. “That was quite the leap, Rowan. Congratulations on going off the deep end as is expected.”

“As is expected? You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Hmm,” he says and the sound—judgment tinged with suggestion—tells me he thinks otherwise.

“Keep playing your games. They won’t work on me.”

“And yet you walked in here wanting to do just that. Play a game. Get the upper hand. Put me in my place,” he murmurs with a knowing arrogance that has me clenching my jaw. “You’re going to have to try a little harder if you plan to outsmart me. I’ll always be one step ahead of you.” He leans back in his chair, the squeak of it filling the silence. “Now, should we get back to the topic at hand? Your question about vices, in particular?”

“Be my guest.” Asshole.

“TinSpirits sells a good time—you, being the face of it, sell the idea. It also sells to the flip side. Those who use our product to escape their every day. To plug a void they need filled. Vices.”

“That word has a negative connotation to it.”

“There’s a light and a dark side to everything. You just have to look hard enough to find both.”

“Wow. Bravo.” I make a show of clapping my hands. “Quite the show and yet you still didn’t answer the question. Why TinSpirits? Why the Rothschild brands?”

The twist of his lips says he’s less than amused with me. Good. I’m not impressed with him either. But our eyes hold, and I take some pride that he’s the first to break.

“I’m an entrepreneur at heart.”

“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean my ass against the windowsill. “An entrepreneur who picked up and moved across the country out of the blue.”

He nods. “Ah. Yes. Well, you’ll learn I like to keep things close to the vest. I’ll leave the spilling of family secrets and the hitting on random strangers when tipsy to you.”

My temper fires. “You’re an asshole. Trust me when I say I wasn’t hitting on you. If I’d known the real you—this you standing in front of me right now—I wouldn’t have been in the same room let alone breathing the same air as you.”

He lifts a brow. I can’t quite read his expression, but I know I don’t like it.

“You’re just as much of a coward as my brother.”

He presses his hands against the table and stands abruptly, sending his chair rolling back into the cabinet behind him.

“It would behoove you to remember who you’re talking to,” he says.

I smirk. “Oh, I know exactly who and what I’m talking to.”

He stands tall, looming over me from what must be a six-foot, two-inch frame. Undoubtedly, this posture—arms crossed over his chest, intense eyes pinning me to the glass from across the room—intimidates most people.

I’m not most people.