Page 37 of Firethorne
“Speak to me like that again and my aim will be better.”
Firethorne.
It was silent for a moment, and I thought maybe Lysander had left and the conversation was over. Then, a murmur echoed through the vent.
“All I want to do is please you. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make you proud.”
Lysander’s vulnerability was palpable now, and I held my breath, closing my eyes as I listened intently.
“If you want to please me, then shut the hell up and stay out of my way,” Firethorne hissed. “And as for proud, I think that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you do. You’re nothing. And you’ll never be anything. You’re a nobody. Stick to your fucking paintings of trees and let the real men do the important jobs.”
My heart ached for Lysander. When God was appointing fathers, he really was at the end of the queue. Firethorne didn’teven deserve the title. He spoke to his son like shit and kept a sick reminder of how fucked up their family was with that vile rope he kept in his woods. I had no words to describe how much I hated Mr Firethorne.
“I’m not a nobody,” Lysander fought back, and I could clearly see him in my mind’s eye, lifting his chin defiantly, standing taller to counteract his father’s disdain. “I am somebody. I have talent. Other people can see it.”
“Who?” His father laughed, a laugh that made my skin crawl.
“People,” Lysander responded weakly.
“What, Beresford? Or Mrs Richardson? Miriam, maybe? Or that new little slut that creeps around the corridors pretending to clean? I know for damn sure it’s not Damien.”
“Don’t call her that,” Lysander growled, and Firethorne laughed again.
“What, the slut?”
“She’s not a slut. And she works damn hard for you. Her name. Is. Maya,” he barked.
I could barely breathe as I waited for Firethorne’s response. My heart was pounding, my body shaking, but I didn’t dare move in case I missed anything.
“Her name is whatever the fuck I want it to be,” Firethorne snapped back. “And she’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”
I heard movement, maybe a door slamming, chairs scraping on the hardwood floor from the room they were in, then Damien’s voice as he said, “Did I hear my name mentioned? You know it’s rude to talk about people behind their back.”
“We didn’t talk about you,” Lysander replied haughtily. “You barely register on our radar.”
But Firethorne’s response was more telling. “I have some contracts I want to go over with you, Damien. I would appreciate your advice.” And I could tell those words would be like a knife through Lysander’s heart. That his father could be so dismissiveof his importance and his self-worth. Making Lysander feel like he was second best to his half-brother, Damien. Pitting Damien against Lysander as the superior son. It made me sick.
“I’m free now, shall we go to your office?” Damien replied, and I heard Firethorne agree and the sound of a door opening and closing.
In that moment, I wanted to go and find Lysander, tell him he was somebody, that he was talented. But in doing that, I’d have to admit that I’d been eavesdropping and heard his private conversation.
And then it hit me.
There was something I could do.
I squeezed myself out of the space against the shelving and brushed the dust off my hands onto my apron, then untied it and left it on the shelf.
I took the stairs back up to the kitchen, and when I entered, I told Cora, “I just need to pop out for a second. I won’t be long.”
Cheerfully, she answered, “Okay, love.” But, when she realised I was heading for the door to the main house, and not the one that’d lead me outside, she tried to call out to me to wait, but I didn’t listen. I carried on walking, heading out into the hallway towards the room that I guessed they’d been in when I’d overheard them talking.
As I came to the doorway, I lifted my hand to knock, but the door swung open, and I was left holding my clenched fist in the air like an idiot. My mouth hung open as I stood staring at Lysander, beautiful, wholesome Lysander with sunshine in his eyes and warmth in his heart.
“Maya?” He frowned, no doubt questioning what I was doing standing in front of the door to the room he was in, looking like a creeper. “Are you okay?” He cocked his head, empathy and concern swimming in his eyes.
