I want that.
But today, instead of taking notes and listening attentively like I should, my thoughts are on a certain lady with freckles that dust every inch of her. I haven’t seen Amberlyn since I dropped her off at eleven thirty, two nights ago. I didn’t make it to the pub yesterday because one of our pot stills went on the fritz and then today, I have this damn meeting. I’m feigning for her.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I hold it under the table and quickly text her.
I’m stuck at work. I won’t be in today.
I go to tuck it back in my pocket when it vibrates with a new message.
You’re slacking, slacker. Haha. No worries, just means you owe me dinner or something.
Doesn’t that sound like a perfect idea? Smiling, I write her back.
Tonight? You free?
I can be if you are asking.
Yeah, I am.
Then yes, I’ll see you… when?
Six.
Awesome. :)
“Declan, what do you think?”
I glance up, tucking my phone in my pocket. “I think it’s good,” I say, even though I don’t have a clue what is going on.
“So you agree on an increase of two percent for the distributors in the US?” my da asks.
I shake my head, leaning on the table. “Why are we raising the prices at all?”
“Because they are making a double profit off us. Where have you been?”
I shrug. “Not listening, I guess. Excuse me, I was distracted.”
Da nods. “Would you like us to wait until you are done?”
“No sir, I apologize.”
“That’s fine, please read the proposal and give us your opinion.”
I glance down at the file in front of me and know that all eyes are on me. Biting into my lip, I read quickly and agree that the distributors’ prices need to go up. Looking down at my da to find he is watching me, I try not to be nervous as I say, “Yes, but it needs to be more. At least four percent so that we are both equal, and send a suggestion price because they don’t have that yet. Since we are the best whiskey in the world, they are taking advantage of it. Send a suggested price and then a cap of what they can sell. If they don’t like it, that’s fine. We are the leading whiskey brand in the United States behind Jack Daniels. I know they are banking from their distributors, and we can too.”
My da nods as a satisfied smile covers his face. Pride is shining in his eyes as everyone at the table nods in agreement. The nervousness I was feeling is gone as a triumphant feeling takes over. This is what I love; this is what I was meant to do. I may hate being trapped in this room with these stiffs, but I love the feeling I get when I do something right. It’s almost as satisfying as being close to Amberlyn.
“I agree. Ryan, write it up and get it together for the distributors all over the world. Good job, Declan.”
Everyone sends me a nod before getting up and leaving the room. Standing up, I follow everyone out and soon fall into step with my da. “Good job in there, but stay off that phone.”
I nod. “Yes sir, it won’t happen again.”
“Good, everything going well in the distillery?”
“Yes, very well. Kane is doing a great job,” I say as my da stops, turning to me.
“I knew he would. He takes after his own da, hardworking. He’ll do well in the production room. I believe that. I hate to lose Paul to retirement, but Kane is the perfect replacement.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. He nods as he looks down at his phone, reading an email from what I can see. Usually I don’t talk about things I want for the business because it might start a fight because of my marital status, but for some reason, I’m feeling brave. I clear my throat before saying, “Da, I was wondering if we could send my whiskey into beta testing?”
He looks up from his phone to me. His brows are pulled together and his eyes no longer hold the pride they did before, more like annoyance now. “Come in my office please.”
Fuck me. Reluctantly, I follow him into his office and fall into the seat before his desk. I just wanted a simple yes or no answer.
“She’s American then?”
I look up, confused. “Excuse me, what?”
“The girl you’ve been seeing, Amberlyn Reilly, twenty years old, born in Nashville, Tennessee. Her ma and da were born here, but they left after getting married, both deceased. She is Shelia and Michael Maclaster’s niece. Works as a bartender at the pub across the lake.”
Holding my da’s gaze, I nod. “Yes.”
“She’s American, Declan. That won’t work.”
My fingers bite into my thighs. “Why is that?”
“Because she doesn’t come from old money like us.”
Flabbergasted, I take in a breath before protesting, “That wasn’t part of the requirements.”
“Maybe so, but I won’t accept her. Call me a snob but I want you to be with an Irish girl—old money, pretty, and good for you.”
I don’t know why, but rage takes over within seconds and I want nothing more than to pick the chair up and throw it through the window. I roll my eyes and stand up, holding the file that I have like a shield over my heart. “That’s the stupidest shite I’ve ever heard, and I refuse to listen to this any longer. You said get out, meet people, fall in love, and get married so I can have the business. I am doing that. I refuse to have you go and add different stipulations. I also refuse to allow this to bother me now because I don’t know what will happen with Amberlyn. So this conversation is over. Forget I asked about my whiskey. I’ll do it once I own this fuckin’ company.”
I stalk out of the office, slamming the door behind me. I chance a glance at my da to find him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. That’s right, be fuckin’ surprised ’cause you are a wanker!
How dare he?
Stomping through the offices and out into the fresh air, I let out a long breath, sucking in more air as my heart pounds in my chest. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I replay our conversation as I fill my lungs with air, letting it out in a swoosh each time. I focus on Cathmor, who is waiting to take me back to the distillery, but I can’t move right now. My da may very well kill me once he sees me again, but I just don’t get it. The nerve of him. The rules are pretty much set in stone. I get married… I have the company, nothing about her race, her origin, or anything. As long as she is female and has my last name, I am good. Why the fuck would he throw that at me? Damn it. And why am I letting it bother me so much? I am not asking Amberlyn to marry me today; I haven’t even kissed the woman yet.
But today, instead of taking notes and listening attentively like I should, my thoughts are on a certain lady with freckles that dust every inch of her. I haven’t seen Amberlyn since I dropped her off at eleven thirty, two nights ago. I didn’t make it to the pub yesterday because one of our pot stills went on the fritz and then today, I have this damn meeting. I’m feigning for her.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I hold it under the table and quickly text her.
I’m stuck at work. I won’t be in today.
I go to tuck it back in my pocket when it vibrates with a new message.
You’re slacking, slacker. Haha. No worries, just means you owe me dinner or something.
Doesn’t that sound like a perfect idea? Smiling, I write her back.
Tonight? You free?
I can be if you are asking.
Yeah, I am.
Then yes, I’ll see you… when?
Six.
Awesome. :)
“Declan, what do you think?”
I glance up, tucking my phone in my pocket. “I think it’s good,” I say, even though I don’t have a clue what is going on.
“So you agree on an increase of two percent for the distributors in the US?” my da asks.
I shake my head, leaning on the table. “Why are we raising the prices at all?”
“Because they are making a double profit off us. Where have you been?”
I shrug. “Not listening, I guess. Excuse me, I was distracted.”
Da nods. “Would you like us to wait until you are done?”
“No sir, I apologize.”
“That’s fine, please read the proposal and give us your opinion.”
I glance down at the file in front of me and know that all eyes are on me. Biting into my lip, I read quickly and agree that the distributors’ prices need to go up. Looking down at my da to find he is watching me, I try not to be nervous as I say, “Yes, but it needs to be more. At least four percent so that we are both equal, and send a suggestion price because they don’t have that yet. Since we are the best whiskey in the world, they are taking advantage of it. Send a suggested price and then a cap of what they can sell. If they don’t like it, that’s fine. We are the leading whiskey brand in the United States behind Jack Daniels. I know they are banking from their distributors, and we can too.”
My da nods as a satisfied smile covers his face. Pride is shining in his eyes as everyone at the table nods in agreement. The nervousness I was feeling is gone as a triumphant feeling takes over. This is what I love; this is what I was meant to do. I may hate being trapped in this room with these stiffs, but I love the feeling I get when I do something right. It’s almost as satisfying as being close to Amberlyn.
“I agree. Ryan, write it up and get it together for the distributors all over the world. Good job, Declan.”
Everyone sends me a nod before getting up and leaving the room. Standing up, I follow everyone out and soon fall into step with my da. “Good job in there, but stay off that phone.”
I nod. “Yes sir, it won’t happen again.”
“Good, everything going well in the distillery?”
“Yes, very well. Kane is doing a great job,” I say as my da stops, turning to me.
“I knew he would. He takes after his own da, hardworking. He’ll do well in the production room. I believe that. I hate to lose Paul to retirement, but Kane is the perfect replacement.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. He nods as he looks down at his phone, reading an email from what I can see. Usually I don’t talk about things I want for the business because it might start a fight because of my marital status, but for some reason, I’m feeling brave. I clear my throat before saying, “Da, I was wondering if we could send my whiskey into beta testing?”
He looks up from his phone to me. His brows are pulled together and his eyes no longer hold the pride they did before, more like annoyance now. “Come in my office please.”
Fuck me. Reluctantly, I follow him into his office and fall into the seat before his desk. I just wanted a simple yes or no answer.
“She’s American then?”
I look up, confused. “Excuse me, what?”
“The girl you’ve been seeing, Amberlyn Reilly, twenty years old, born in Nashville, Tennessee. Her ma and da were born here, but they left after getting married, both deceased. She is Shelia and Michael Maclaster’s niece. Works as a bartender at the pub across the lake.”
Holding my da’s gaze, I nod. “Yes.”
“She’s American, Declan. That won’t work.”
My fingers bite into my thighs. “Why is that?”
“Because she doesn’t come from old money like us.”
Flabbergasted, I take in a breath before protesting, “That wasn’t part of the requirements.”
“Maybe so, but I won’t accept her. Call me a snob but I want you to be with an Irish girl—old money, pretty, and good for you.”
I don’t know why, but rage takes over within seconds and I want nothing more than to pick the chair up and throw it through the window. I roll my eyes and stand up, holding the file that I have like a shield over my heart. “That’s the stupidest shite I’ve ever heard, and I refuse to listen to this any longer. You said get out, meet people, fall in love, and get married so I can have the business. I am doing that. I refuse to have you go and add different stipulations. I also refuse to allow this to bother me now because I don’t know what will happen with Amberlyn. So this conversation is over. Forget I asked about my whiskey. I’ll do it once I own this fuckin’ company.”
I stalk out of the office, slamming the door behind me. I chance a glance at my da to find him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. That’s right, be fuckin’ surprised ’cause you are a wanker!
How dare he?
Stomping through the offices and out into the fresh air, I let out a long breath, sucking in more air as my heart pounds in my chest. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I replay our conversation as I fill my lungs with air, letting it out in a swoosh each time. I focus on Cathmor, who is waiting to take me back to the distillery, but I can’t move right now. My da may very well kill me once he sees me again, but I just don’t get it. The nerve of him. The rules are pretty much set in stone. I get married… I have the company, nothing about her race, her origin, or anything. As long as she is female and has my last name, I am good. Why the fuck would he throw that at me? Damn it. And why am I letting it bother me so much? I am not asking Amberlyn to marry me today; I haven’t even kissed the woman yet.
