“I will take you to meet the Chastains now. Please remember to be polite and professional. Follow me.” Oscar takes the same exit that Atlas did, and as I move to follow, Dad grabs my arm.
“Julian,” he says softly. “I know this place is new and exciting, but please try to keep your curiosity to yourself. We can’t afford to lose this gig.”
His black hair is slicked back, but one strand falls loose, hanging over his eye. He pushes it back, looking exhausted and stressed beyond measure.
“Sure, Dad,” I say, because I can still see him hunched over that chair in our tiny dining room, and I don’t want to disappoint him or become more of a burden than I already am.
Julian
2
WE TRAIL AFTER OSCAR, finding him waiting outside the dining room entrance. Once we approach, he enters with us at his back.
“Master Abraham,” we hear him say, though I can’t see around him and my father to catch sight of the family eating their meal. “Lady Theodora.”
“Oscar! How are you? I feel as if I haven’t seen you all day.” The voice speaking is gruff and deep, yet is filled with a kind of affection and interest that I normally don’t expect from a boss.
“I’m well, sir, thank you for asking,” Oscar responds smoothly. “This is Jeremy and Julian Walsh; they’ve started their employment today.”
The butler steps to the side, and my father steps forward. I move to stand next to him, finally able to take in the people before me.
At a large, dark oak table are five impeccably dressed individuals.
In the chair at the head of the table is an older man, perhaps around my father’s age, and he’s dressed in a white button-up with his brown hair combed over. I can’t see the rest ofhis clothing, but I’m sure it's just as pristine. To his left is a woman, very beautiful with her big blue eyes and incredibly long brown, curly hair. She wears a maroon dress that falls from her shoulders, and her fingers are adorned with various gold rings.
At the right of the man, Abraham, I believe, is who I imagine is the eldest son, Atticus. He is very similar to his father in looks, with his short, combed-over, straight brown hair and hazel eyes. He’s dressed similarly in a white button-up, and his body is lean yet muscled beneath the fabric.
Next to him is the youngest Chastain sibling, Abigail, and she looks nothing likeeitherof her parents. With long blonde hair and round green eyes, she can’t be any older than ten years of age in her little pink dress lined with white lace.
And lastly, next to Theodora is Atlas. He sits in his chair with a straight back, the yellow-tinted light that is coming from the large chandelier hanging over the table highlighting his button nose and his high cheekbones. With his large, cool eyes and his brown curly hair, he is the spitting image of his mother. Soft and sweet—a darling thing to look at.
He appears, to me, to resemble a beautiful little bunny from a storybook.
“Ah! We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Walsh. How was the drive here? Not too much trouble, I hope?” Master Abraham asks my father, who shakes his head vigorously.
“No, sir, not at all. We are very happy to be here.”
Abraham grins at that, and I nod my head dutifully, agreeing with my father’s words.
“Atticus, Abigail, Atlas,” Abraham starts. “Jeremy will be working mostly with me, but Julian here will attend to you, sobe nice.” As his children make a series of affirmative sounds, the man’s eyes settle on me. “Julian, you are quite handsome.”
“Thank you, sir,” I reply, blushing profusely. I’ve never been complimented outright like this by a superior before.
“How old are you, hun?” Theodora asks me, and I turn my attention to her.
“I’m twenty-one, ma’am.”
The woman raises a brow, her eyes trailing me softly. Not in a way that makes my skin crawl, but in the way one would study a diagram of the human body in an anatomy lecture.
“Darling,” she says, and although her eyes are still trained on me, I know she’s no longer addressing me. “You’re so close in age.”
“Yes, Momma,” Atlas speaks. “Only a one-year difference.”
My eyes leave the woman and find Atlas staring at me, his glacier eyes still just as piercing and borderline violating as they were before.
For someone who looks and speaks so sweetly, so softly, his eyes appear to be those of a predator.
A moment of unease passes over the dinner table, but then a loud clap interrupts it.
