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He shoves himself away from his desk, standing up with an accusatory gaze that sweeps the room. Everyone shuffles their feet until Remy snarls and chucks a book from his desk at the wall.
Apparently that gets us all to move.
Turning on my heel, I gesture at Dr. Phadreet, flicking two fingers to indicate that we are leaving. Burn is right on my tail, squeezing through the carefully studied doorway just as I step through it. I grimace and brush off my sleeve, as though he's dirtied it somehow.
“Pussy,” he whispers as he moves past me.
My whole body tenses, but Burn just keeps moving with a grin on his face. His immaturity always blows my mind.
That, in a nutshell, is why he can’t take the reins of Morgan Oil when Remy kicks the bucket.
We step out into the wide hallway, all lined with dark paneling. Portraits hang all along the hallway. A portrait of my great-grandmother’s father looks down at me from the wall, looking right at me with his insane person’s hair and his massive jowls. My distant relative has massive, florid cheeks and judging from his expression, he terrorized everyone in his path back in his day. I avoid his glare as I look around for Clive, the mansion's butler.
Burn lies in wait and then falls in step with me, jostling me with an elbow. It takes everything in me not to snarl at him. But that would be losing the little game we play. Instead, I just look at him.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask, gesturing to the front door of the mansion. "I thought for sure you would be out trolling for your next hookup. Or is that not of interest to you anymore?"
He sticks his tongue out at me, making a wickedly taunting face. "I have other things to worry about, brother. Like Daisy, for instance.”
I come to a halt, my gaze narrowing on him. “Don’t tell me that she already figured out that you’re useless and is ready to break up with you?"
His lips twitch. "Not a chance. It'll be a cold day in hell before I let her slip away. I'm not about to repeat the mistakes that you made."
Resentment, bitterness, and no little portion of anger slide through my gut. I'm riled by his words, but I can’t let him win.
Not ever, not after he stole Daisy from me.
I shrug a shoulder. "I'm just waiting for you to fuck up and step over the line. You will eventually. And then we’ll see who Daisy comes running to."
Burn rolls his eyes and turns away toward the front door. "Yeah, we'll see. You have to catch me first, don't you?"
Before I can respond, he whirls and merges toward the front of the house. I watch him go, my face contorting. It's so strange to see my own reflection acting completely differently than I ever would. Even though I've been alive for almost thirty four years, watching Burn move around the world with such ease, such daring, still makes me uneasy.
I'm so caught up in staring at the empty room where Burn just was that I almost don't hear anyone approaching until Clive and my Uncle Felix are almost on top of me. I flinch when my uncle reaches out, grasping my shoulder with a steel grip.
"Hey," he says.
He and Clive circle around me. Clive is dressed in a black tux with tails, my uncle in a green leather jacket and dark slacks. At age sixty, he still dresses like a much younger man. His age is written on his face in the creases bracketing his mouth and shadowed hollows under his eyes. I look at the two men, scowling to cover my reaction to their sudden presence.
"Ah. There you are," I say, feeling stupid. "I didn't hear you coming down the hall."
Clive just bows his head, as close and silent as always. He’s been with my family since before I was born. He is tall, thin as a whip, always seems resolute, and his face remains as unlined as I remember it being as a boy. Everything about him is tightly wound and well-polished. He's old school as far as butlers go, and I appreciate that about him.
Felix, on the other hand, is downright chatty. He claps me on the back of the shoulder and smiles grimly. "This old manor plays tricks on your perception. At least, it does to me. It always has, ever since I was a little boy."
I glance at Felix, taking in his silvery hair and his gaunt face. He has the same probing blue green eyes that mark him as a Morgan, the same blue green eyes that I share with Remy, Burn, and my father.
I suck in a breath and release it. "Yeah, well. When I take over the family business, I'll move the Morgan Oil headquarters away from this damn town. We should be doing all our business in New York City. When Remy finally passes away, I will take Clive here and move the whole operation to fancier digs." I pause, looking around the house dubiously. "Good riddance to bad garbage, if you ask me."
Clive’s expression tenses for a moment. I gesture to him. "No offense. You keep this house perfectly well maintained. But I want to see you tackle a new challenge, perhaps a penthouse with a view of Manhattan. Doesn't that sound exciting?"
Felix licks one of his canine teeth, glancing at Clive. "The kid’s got a point of view. At least we can give him that, huh?"
Clive frowns. "Indeed," he says.
He bows his head and spins, crisply tapping his heels to gather before he starts down the hallway. I can never tell if I've just offended Clive or if he is just busy running this sprawling household. Felix notices me watching Clive and gives me a knowing look.
"Don't worry about Clive. He is on our side. He knows that one day soon, Remy will finally kick the bucket, and he also knows where his bread will be best buttered. I've talked to Clive at length about our plans to expand. He is definitely amenable."
