Page 10 of Firethorne
A prickle of irritation soon followed, and I glared back at him.
What the hell did that mean?
What had they discussed about me?
And why was he looking at me like I was here for reasons that made my insides crawl?
At that moment, I heard footsteps echoing down the hallway, high heels clicking, and other muted steps from the highly polished wooden floors. I watched as three figures emerged from the dark corridor to the left of the staircase, and Mr Firethorne turned his head to acknowledge their presence, but his demeanour remained as cold as ever.
“And here they are,” he announced apathetically. “My beloved family.” Then, addressing them, he remarked, “I’m so glad you could tear yourselves away from whatever mindless pursuits you young people do these days to come and greet our new employees.”
The three of them stepped into the light—two men dressed in dark suits, and a girl around my age in a smart cream pantsuit that fitted her like a second skin.
“This”—Mr Firethorne gestured to the man standing directly beside him—“is my eldest son, Lysander.” His face softened a little as he said his name, but not much. It clearly took a lot to impress the elder Firethorne. “He’s very knowledgeable about the estate, and very sociable. So, if you need any help settlingin, I’m sure he’ll happily oblige.” He patted his son’s back as he said the last part, and I noticed a proud grin creep across Lysander’s face as he discreetly peered at the man who stood on the opposite side of Mr Firethorne.
As he revelled in the brief attention his father was giving him, I studied Lysander Firethorne.
He was beautiful.
I couldn’t deny that.
Like a Greek God.
He had thick, golden hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. His skin was tanned, and his face was warm and friendly. He had the kind of ethereal perfection you rarely saw in real life. Even standing here in front of him made me feel a certain way, and when he turned and bowed his head to my father, then let his eyes land on me, a wave of something hit me.
Was it nerves?
I wasn’t sure, but I felt a little exposed and out of sorts. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt before, and I could sense the heat in my cheeks as I tried not to blush.
Lysander began to speak, “It’s nice to?—”
But Mr Firethorne cut him off, dismissing him completely as he turned his back on him. And it made me feel sorry for Lysander, that his father would embarrass him in front of other people like that.
“And this is my youngest son, Damien.” He gestured to the man standing at his other side. I saw Lysander’s jaw tick as he tried to remain unaffected, but even I, a stranger, could tell he was hurt.
The other son, Damien, had his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets and a bored, vacant expression on his face. He clearly didn’t want to be here and didn’t care who knew it. His whole aura screamed rich, privileged, spoilt asshole.
“Damien has... many qualities,” Mr Firethorne went on. “How useful they are to this family is yet to be determined.”
Lysander stifled a snort, but Damien didn’t react. He just stared straight ahead, not really focusing on any of us.
He wasn’t golden like Lysander.
No.
Damien had a darkness about him.
Dark hair, shorter than Lysander’s, that fell over his forehead, almost touching the lashes of his eyes.
Dark eyes that seemed hollow and emotionless.
And a dark mood that seemed to hang over him like a storm cloud.
If Lysander was a God, then Damien was the devil. Or that’s how it appeared at first glance.
The girl standing beside Lysander cleared her throat to get our attention. A sunny, pleasant, and altogether fake smile was painted on her pretty face. Then she flicked her beautiful, long, blonde hair over her shoulder and stepped forward. Mr Firethorne’s gaze fell on her with a look of irritation that she’d interrupted his introductions, but it didn’t deter her. She didn’t seem to care, and her smile grew wider as she focused solely on me.
“And this,” Mr Firethorne stated plainly as he regarded us. “Is my niece, Miriam.” He turned his head slowly to glare at her. “Who should have something better to do with her time than be here wasting ours.”
