I hesitate because I’m not sure we should be having this conversation and Flynn appears angry as he says sharply, “Like someone has ripped out my heart and burned it with acid.”
“I see.” I’m a little taken aback by the anger in his voice and he sighs, before placing his hand on my arm to stop me.
“I’m sorry, Louisa. Today has been a learning curve I never expected. I should concentrate on the good that came out of it and focus on Vivian. Tell me about her.”
Just his hand on me has distracted me a little and for a moment I hesitate and say awkwardly, “Um, she’s great. I love her like a mother and have nothing bad to say about her.”
“That’s good to hear.”
He smiles and I can’t stop staring because I have never seen a man who blinds me as much as he does. It’s like staring into the sun and being momentarily dazzled by the intensity of its rays. I am experiencing an attraction I can’t reason with, and like a lovesick puppy, I have placed him high on a pedestal and already idolize him. I must be delirious because he is paying me attention and so I drag my eyes away and say in a higher voice than usual, “This is the games room.”
I lead him into a place my father adores. A typical men’s retreat with a pool table, a mahogany bar, and a huge television, around which are comfortable chairs and low-slung tables.
“Impressive.” Flynn appears fascinated as he gazes around the room, and I say quickly. “What’s your home like, Flynn?”
I wonder if he lives in a similar house, and he laughs with an edge of derision. “It’s big, bold, and distasteful. Filled with antiques and dusty tapestries, hidden doors and secretive passageways, all leading to the most uncomfortable rooms anyone would hate to explore. It’s guarded like a fortress and hides many sins. It’s hell on earth and I pray you never witness it first-hand.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know what else to say, and he laughs darkly. “This is a home, Louisa. Mine is a prison. I was brought up there by my uncle, who made it his mission in life to make mine hell on earth. The only person who ever showed me affection was my nanny, Rosemary.”
He breaks off and looks away, and I can tell the memory is not a pleasant one.
“What happened? To Rosemary, I mean.”
I wish I hadn’t asked, because it’s as if the shutters open for the briefest moment and I witness a festering wound behind his eyes. Rage, grief and hatred flash in a cocktail of misery and I almost think it will bring him down, but he closes his eyes and when he opens them, the fire has gone.
He says coldly, “She died.”
I open my mouth with more questions that are immediately forgotten as he fixes his attention on me and says huskily, “What about you? Tell me about Louisa.”
“Me?”
Nobody ever asks me about me and for good reason. There is absolutely nothing to say and so I laugh nervously.
“I’m not interesting enough to have a story to tell, Flynn. I have no friends; my sister doesn’t understand me, and I spend all my time studying and trying to be as good at business as my father.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“What?”
“That you have no friends and I find you very interesting as it happens.”
“You do.”
I must appear shocked at that, and he surprises me by moving behind the bar and grabbing two glasses.
“Do you think your father would mind if we had a couple of drinks and shot some pool?”
“I guess not.” I’m surprised and a little nervous, saying, “To be honest, I don’t drink, and I’ve never played pool.”
He must wonder what planet I’m from and yet all he does is smile sweetly. “OK, two firsts coming up. Let me educate you.”
I perch on a bar stool and watch him make two drinks.
“What are they?”
I’m interested to find out, and he grins. “Vodka Martinis.”