Firethorne

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Firethornes

Damien, Lysander, and Miriam

“ I t looks like your new pets are here,” Miriam purred as she stood in front of the drawing room window in her cream, tightly fitted, designer pantsuit.

Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, glistening as it reflected the light from the fireplace. There wasn’t a hair out of place because that was who Miriam was, what she wanted the world to see... outward perfection. The inside, however, was a different matter entirely.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the windowsill and gave a quiet gasp of anticipation as the car headlights shone in the distance, lighting up the dark grounds of the estate. Then, she tilted her hips seductively and cocked her head to the side as she hummed in approval, watching those headlights creep closer.

Miriam was easy to please.

Just like a cat when you give it a ball of wool to keep it amused. She couldn’t wait to start batting and clawing away at the new playthings making their way to the front door.

“I wonder how long these ones will last?” she remarked, and then whipped her head around with a look of disgust as she heard a resounding snort. “What?” she chided. “Like you’re any good at keeping staff. Apart from your father’s lacky, Beresford, who’s driving that car, and Mrs Richardson, who cooks your meals every day, you haven’t managed to hold onto a single member of staff for longer than a month.” She turned back to focus on the impending arrival. “Maybe you’re both losing your touch.”

“Or maybe we just don’t give a shit and prefer to keep our staff numbers small. Exclusive. Like that club you got thrown out of last weekend,” Damien remarked, his demeanour as dark as his jet-black hair, his attitude as cutting as the sour look he always had on his face. He didn’t even glance up from the book he was reading as he spoke.

Miriam decided to ignore his cutting remark and barked back, “Or, Damien dear , your father is a tight-ass who doesn’t pay well enough.”

“That too.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

She spun around, turning her back to the window so she could face the room head-on with her killer smirk as she said, “Knowing how fussy my two darling cousins are, how everything has to be just right, I’d have thought you’d have pestered daddy dearest to dig a little deeper into his pockets to pay for decent staff. It’s not fair to expect Mrs Richardson to pander to your every whim, Damien. Or to clean up all your shit, Lysander. Not to mention the complete mess that seems to follow you both around.”

Her narrowed, accusatory stare flickered from her dark, brooding cousin, Damien, to the one who lived his life with sunshine smiles as bright as the blond hair on his head.

Lysander.

The eldest son of Nicholas Firethorne. The one she was always drawn to. But they were both hers, despite what Damien might say to the contrary. Her dark and light angels... or should that be demons?

She took a few steps forward and reached out a hand to stroke Lysander’s cheek. “For such pretty boys, I’d have expected you to pile on the charm and make them stay. All those pretty girls right under your roof, ready to do whatever you want.” She dropped her arm dramatically and sighed. “But no.” She paused, then gave a low chuckle and grinned wickedly. “Scrap that, I’m not surprised at all that they left. In fact, it’s a wonder they lasted as long as they did with you scowling at them from the shadows, Damien, using your sharp tongue to nick them every chance you got. And you, Lysander, with your constant demands and over-inflated?—”

“I don’t have demands ,” Lysander butted in, trying to argue back. “We all have standards here, and mine are no different to both of yours. Don’t drag me into your arguments, Miriam.”

“Who’s arguing?” she replied with a sickly-sweet grin. “All I’m saying is, everyone has their price, but being in your company for any length of time was obviously too high a price for them to pay. My dark and dirty princes of Firethorne.” She winked as Lysander scoffed and glowered at her.

Damien flipped the page of his book as he carried on reading, showing he didn’t care and wasn’t listening at all.

But Miriam ignored them both and stepped back, turning to stare out of the window again.

“Dark and dirty in all the best ways,” she hummed to herself. “But they didn’t stick around long enough to find out... Lucky for me.”

“And you stick around too long,” Damien announced drily, his nonchalant act cracking as he bit back.

Miriam flicked her hair from her shoulder, and revelling in the insult and attention, she laughed. “You love having me here. Admit it. I make things… interesting.”

“I’ll admit, sometimes you make things... mildly amusing. Distracting. As cousins go, you’re in our top five,” Damien said, but he didn’t react or look up from his book as Lysander threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“I’m your only cousin,” Miriam huffed, totally missing the subtlety of the comment. “Anyway,” she went on. “You’re both distracting me right now. Look”—she gestured to the car that’d stopped outside beside the steps leading to the front door—“they’re about to get out. I love this part.”

“They’re servants. You’re getting way too excited about this,” Damien remarked, but she didn’t care.

Miriam stayed focused on the driveway, riveted by what was going on outside. “They’re an opportunity, is what they are,” she mused, her reflection in the dark window showing the glow of her eyes as she contemplated every wicked thing she intended to do while they were here.

“What are you cooking up in that evil, pretty head of yours, Miriam?” Lysander questioned; his eyes boring into her back with a twisted curiosity.

Her responding hum of approval spoke volumes. This one was going to be particularly wicked.

“I’m thinking...” She tapped her finger on her chin in thought. “Something that you’re both going to lose your shit over.” She glanced over her shoulder and added, “And pretty, yes, but evil? I don’t think so.” She refocused on the new arrivals outside. “I prefer to think of myself as a puppet master. It isn’t my fault evil deeds seem to follow. All I do is... facilitate.”

“And what is it you plan on facilitating this time, exactly?” Damien asked.

Miriam took a moment, and as the sound of car doors opening from below echoed in the room, she gave a little squeal. “Damien, she’s just your type.”

A cruel chuckle filled the room.

“How do you know, Miriam? Is she mute? Or deaf? Blind, even? Maybe all three,” Lysander said, laughing at his own cruel remark.

But his laughter wasn’t reciprocated.

“How would you know by looking out of the window if they’re deaf, mute, or blind, brother ?” Damien rolled his eyes, and under his breath, he added, “She’ll be your type, too... if she’s breathing.”

“Pretty girls are always my type,” Lysander added.

“And she’ll probably still be your type even if she’s not breathing,” Damien muttered to himself, but loud enough for them to hear.

“I know someone closer to home who might not be breathing soon if he carries on being a complete and utter asshole tonight,” Lysander added, growing irritable as he clenched his jaw and moved closer to the window to get a better look.

Miriam ignored the brothers as they started their usual bickering, merely stating, “Damien, you’d see that she’s your type if you closed that damn book and got your bloody ass off that chair by the fire to come and look at her.”

“But that would require effort on Damien’s part, and you know how he struggles to conform,” Lysander bit back.

But Miriam wasn’t listening.

She didn’t care.

All she was bothered about was what was going on outside, as she added, “Long, dark hair. A pale complexion. The type of face that looks... innocent. Ripe for corruption.”

Then she gave a slight gasp, and announced, “Would you look at that, she tried to pick up her own suitcase from the car to carry it inside herself. And look...” She pointed, growing more animated by the second. “I think she’s arguing with Beresford about it. The hired help is so brainwashed into serving, they can’t switch it off. That’s so...” Her voice, that’d been light and airy, changed in an instant. “Pathetic,” she sneered.

“Maybe not Damien’s type after all,” Lysander retorted.

“Oh look.” Miriam chuckled. “The old man beside her can barely climb the stairs.” She laughed as she turned to stare at her cousins. “What’s his position in the house? Because I can tell you now, after a few days of climbing the stairs here, you’ll be burying him out the back after his heart gives way.” She grinned wickedly and shook her head. “Such a terrible shame.”

“I neither know nor care,” Damien stated. “They won’t be here long.”

“But they’re here now,” Miriam hissed, her eyes growing hazy as her voice became seductive. “And I think we should have a little fun.”

Damien snapped his book shut, placed it on the side table and pushed himself out of his chair. With long strides he walked over to the window, and Lysander joined him. Curiosity had gotten the better of them... eventually, and they wanted to see what was going on below, without being detected.

“What kind of fun were you thinking?” Lysander asked as he watched Miriam’s new pets walk through the front doors into Firethorne.

Miriam took a step back, as her wicked smile grew wider. And she stared at each of them in turn as she purred seductively, “I might’ve lied earlier.”

“You? Lie?” Damien quirked his brow as he stared back at her. “Now, there’s a surprise.”

She traced her fingertip along the corners of her mouth like a cat that’d got the cream, devoured it, and would claw the whole world to shreds to find more. “A little bird told me that girl coming to work for you is... special.”

Lysander narrowed his eyes in question. “Special how? And what little bird ?”

“A lady never reveals her sources,” Miriam replied. “A little bird is all you need to know. But there’s been talk in the village.” She stared out the window again, even though there was no one out there now. “Her name’s Maya. She’s twenty years old. And from what I’ve heard...” She peered over her shoulder, staring provocatively through her lashes. “She’s never been touched.”

Both cousins scoffed.

“How would you know that? How would anyone in the village know that?” Lysander replied.

“Like I said,” Miriam replied snippily, strolling farther into the room. “I have my sources. Which brings me to the fun I was talking about.”

“Go on,” Lysander urged, as Damien stayed suspiciously quiet, standing in the shadows of the room, watching and waiting.

Miriam paused, biting the inside of her cheek before she spoke again. “I think we should play a game, have a little bet.”

“I think I know where this is going.” Damien rolled his eyes and went to walk away, but Miriam put her arm out to stop him.

Damien peered down at where her hand touched him, a hint of disgust on his face, but he stayed still to let Miriam say her piece.

“I’m sure you do, Damien, but at least let me finish. I think you might like my terms.”

He waited for her to elaborate, folding his arms over his chest, an air of disinterest emanating from him.

Lysander, on the other hand, stared intently at her, hanging onto her every word.

“I want to see which one of you can trick her into your bed,” Miriam said, a fire burning within her as she spoke. “Take her virginity. Take whatever you want. You know how much fun it is to play with pets like her.”

“Who said we’d need a bed?” Lysander replied. “Give me a wall or a surface and I’m good to go.”

Miriam huffed a laugh. “I know exactly how you operate, Lysander, but let’s give the girl something pleasant to remember you by. I doubt she’s ever felt anything as luxurious as the silk sheets on your bed... or Damien’s for that matter.”

“You want us to fuck the hired help? And why should we do that?” Damien replied, his clipped, bored tone highlighting how unimpressed he was by the prospect she was presenting to him.

“Because, Damien dear, you thrive under pressure, you love a challenge, and you always have to win. Don’t you want to beat your brother? Prove who the best Firethorne is once and for all.”

“He won’t beat me,” Lysander announced, standing a little taller, as if that’d fortify his statement further.

“Won’t he, Lysander?” Miriam shot back, playful wickedness twinkling in her eyes. “Why’s that, cousin dear?”

“Because once she sees my face, and gets hit with the Lysander Firethorne charm, it’ll be game over. She’ll be putty in my hands.”

“So confident, brother. And yet, so, so wrong,” Damien replied.

“Am I?”

Miriam watched the brothers glare at each other, like two lions ready to rip each other’s throats out to claim the pride. Then she shrugged, ready to throw her grenade into the mix. “Maybe she’s one of those girls that likes the dark-haired, brooding in the shadows, scowling at the world, ready to burn it all to the ground, bad-boy type. Who knows? Maybe she’s not into boys at all.” She winked, but Lysander ignored the last part.

“She’ll be into us. Why wouldn’t she? But when she sees me standing behind him, all bets will be off. Remember, I bring the fire; he brings the thorns. I know which one women prefer.”

Miriam let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Lysander. Always so confident, so self-assured.” And she moved to stand in front of the roaring fire, warming her hands as she said, “The fire in Firethorne. I like it. I don’t know how much I believe it, but I like it.”

“Seeing is believing, cousin, and when I win this bet, you’ll do more than like it.”

The flames from the fire reflected a luminous glow on Miriam’s conniving, evil grin. A grin that showed she was more than ready for the wicked games that were about to begin.

But not all of them were as excited as she was.

Damien frowned, a dark, brooding glare painted on his face as he said, “If I wanted to fuck the hired help, I would. But I don’t want to. You can count me out of this one.”

Miriam cocked her eyebrow in surprise. “Throwing in the towel so easily, Damien? What happened to your legendary fighting spirit?”

“I’m saving it for a fight that’s actually worth winning.”

Miriam huffed, but her eyes glowed with wicked intent. “And being crowned the best Firethorne isn’t worth it? Well, if you change your mind, let us know.”

“I already have that crown, and I won’t change my mind.”

“He will,” Lysander butted in. “I give him a day.”

“Whatever,” Miriam purred, dismissing them as she flicked her hand and sauntered across the room. “I say the bet stands for both of you. For all of us, in fact.” As she reached the door, she called out, “Come on... let’s go out there and meet our new guests. The sooner we start this, the sooner I can prove who’s the best.”

“Which is me,” Lysander replied, making his way across the room to join her.

“In your dreams.” Miriam cackled, then added, “Wouldn’t it be something, if I managed to beat you both?” She lifted her chin in defiance, and strolled through the door to head out, calling over her shoulder, “May the best man win... or should I say... the best woman.”