Page 28 of Firethorne
“Neither. You were in your suit. I saw you come in through the front door of the main house.”
He swallowed. Maybe it was a nervous swallow, but he kept his smile in place and replied lightly, “I had a meeting with Mr Firethorne to discuss the terms of the contract.” Then, seeing my frown, he added, “It’s nothing to worry about. Just routine stuff. It’s all fine. Don’t look so worried.”
“I’m not worried,” I replied. “Just make sure you keep me in the loop if it’s anything I need to know.”
“It’s my job to take care of everything,” he stated. “You don’t need to worry yourself about anything.”
I was too tired to venture into the minefield that statement evoked, so I gave a weak hum in response and headed for the fridge. I took out a can of Coke, and after taking a long swig, I told him, “I’m heading into the shower. It’s been a long day.”
I walked to my room, closed the door behind me, and then took out the sketch Lysander had drawn and held it in my hands, studying it. Carefully, I reached over and pulled a pin that was already stuck in the wall out, and putting the sketch on the wall, I pinned it above my bed. Then I opened the drawer of my small bedside table and took the necklace out of my pocket, placed it in the drawer, and then shut it. I wanted to admire the sketch. The pendant felt wrong. I preferred to keep it hidden.
I took a breath, struggling to comprehend the events of the day. Then I pushed myself off the bed, grabbed a towel from my drawers, and headed to the bathroom.
As I stood under the steaming hot shower, I took a moment to think about everything that had happened. I thought about Lysander and his sweet, beguiling ways. His bright smile, his air of sunshine, and the dark figure he painted into every single one of his pieces that he hid in his studio. I thought about Miriam and her hand of friendship, that on the surface seemed to be considerate, like she was an ally. And yet, I feared it carried with it a lethal sting in the tail.
And then there was Damien.
Darkly, brooding Damien. With his glacial stares, sharp tongue, and hands that protected me at a time when I least expected it.
What was this place?
And who were these people?
As I stepped out of the shower into the misty bathroom, grabbing my towel from the rack where I’d left it by the door, I caught sight of the mirror above the sink and my heart leapt from my chest as my pulse hammered. Sirens blared in my ears as I tried to hold onto my sanity—sanity that was rapidly draining away.
On the glass, written for me to find when the room was steamy, like it was right now after my shower, were the words, ‘He’s the devil’.
I stood staring at the words, panting out my breaths as condensation trickled down the glass, not quite believing what I was seeing. My stomach was tied in knots, my throat dry, and all I could think was, who the fuck has been in our home?
And who was the devil?
I wanted to dart from the bathroom, get my father, and leave this cabin. Get as far away from this place as I could. Anger surged through me as I wiped my hand over the words to erase them, my body trembling as I tried to block out every message that’d been left for me. Messages that were replaying in my head like a twisted mantra.
Trust no one.
They’re all liars here.
He’s the devil.
He’s the devil.
He’s the devil.
Panic raced through me as I flung the door open, and standing on the other side, looking at me with grave concern, stood my father.
“What on earth has happened? Are you okay, Maya? I thought I heard you scream.”
“We need to get out of here,” I snapped, clinging to the towel wrapped around me as I pushed past him, focused on getting to my room to repack the suitcase I’d unpacked the night before.
“What are you talking about?” my father asked, following me the short distance to my room. “Why do we have to leave?”
I spun around to face him, wet strands of hair whipping in my face as I glared with urgency to let him know I wasn’t kidding this time. “Someone has been in here, while we were working. Someone broke in.” I wanted to say they’d threatened us, but I didn’t. Instead, I barked, “We. Need. To leave. Now.”
My father stood his ground in my doorway, folding his arms over his chest as a deep crease lined his brow. “What do you mean, broke in?” He looked confused, and added, “Cora came here earlier to leave some food for us for supper. I gave Beresford my key earlier so he could drop off some extra work uniforms for me.” Then as his nostrils flared and he met my angry glare with one of his own, he said, “I’m not going anywhere, Maya. These people have been good to me. This might be my only chance to rebuild a life for myself.”
It wasn’t lost on me that he saidIandmeinstead ofwe.
“These people...” I tried to regulate my breathing as I spoke. “This house...” I gritted my teeth. “All of it.” One last breath, and then I lifted my chin. “It doesn’t feel right. We don’t belong here.Idon’t belong here.”
