1. Silas #2
I shook my head at the image and focused back on the office around me.
My desk was a matte black mahogany and sat dead center, flanked by two angular chairs that no one ever stays long enough to get comfortable in.
A single lamp cast a low glow across the dark wood.
The only other piece of furniture was a leather couch tucked into the corner.
The walls were bare, covered in a deep charcoal gray.
I didn’t do photos or decoration, especially because I thought most were ugly.
That meant that my space only had what it needed.
A large filing cabinet sat behind my desk, and a simple rug tied together my monochrome palette. That was it.
My eyes grazed over the mask as I rolled my neck back and forth, popping several vertebrae.
Raising the glass to my lips, I finished the last swallow of liquid just as the door creaked open.
A low scoff of annoyance left me when the intruder pushed up his Volunteer mask, revealing a familiar pair of blue eyes.
Kyrin. Of course he hadn’t knocked. He never did.
Who needed common sense when you had brotherly privilege?
With a small tsk, my younger brother stepped inside and closed the door slowly behind him.
With every step, a smirk curled the sharp angles of his face.
“You need to learn to lock your door.” He reached my desk and removed his mask, showcasing his dark hair that matched mine.
Right now, it was messy in a way that made him look like he’d just come from a fight or a fuck. Probably both.
I raised an eyebrow at him as I set my glass down on an onyx coaster. “Like that would stop you?”
Looking at him felt like looking into a mirror sometimes, one that showed a two-years younger version of me with no sense of the word control.
Many people assumed we were twins, but the truth was we couldn’t be more different.
Where my personality demanded quiet, Kyrin carried a presence that filled every space he entered.
He’d always been so full of life, and when we were younger, it always drove me nuts.
But still, I tried my best to foster it in him as we grew up.
A large smile crossed his face as he tossed something onto my desk, knocking one of my pens to the floor. “Probably not, especially when it’s because of something like this.”
I didn’t even look down at what he’d thrown, just replaced the pen and moved my attention to my computer monitor. “And this couldn’t have been a text?”
“Nope.” Kyrin answered as he leaned forward to brace himself against the edge of my desk.
Soon, his fingers began to drum on the wood, a clear indication he was excited over something.
When I didn’t play into it, he moved one hand away from the edge and placed it over my keyboard.
My hand caught his wrist before he could press anything.
Same Kyrin, same games.
Another sly grin spread across his face as he pulled his arm back. “I’m so glad I have your full attention now, because”—he bent between his legs and pulled up a chair—“I know the votes were solidified, and I’m here to remind you that it’s time for your annual masquerade.”
The dude couldn’t remember our monthly dinners, and yet he had this tradition circled on his calendar every year.
I pulled my eyes from him and finally glanced down at the paper on my desk, the one he had thrown.
The square piece of paper was practically fluorescent and instantly irritated my eyes as I picked it up.
Blinking at the glossy neon yellow, I realized it was a business card.
Who in the hell would voluntarily choose this to represent them?
The design was like something ripped straight out of a children’s birthday catalog.
Printed in a random blocky font, the name felt clumsy and completely lacked subtlety.
There wasn’t even a business logo, so I had no idea what this card was even for.
I looked up at him like he’d handed me a soiled napkin. “What is this?”
“My gift to you for the masquerade.” Kyrin shrugged, leaning in slightly. “She’s an up-and-coming photographer. Her work is raw and unfiltered.”
I set the card back down carefully, as if it might infect the desk. “Pass.”
“First off, I knew you would say that,” Kyrin laughed, moving around the desk to grab my shoulder. “Which is why I already hired her.”
Looking at his hand from the corner of my eye, I reminded myself that blood stains were hard to get out of this carpet. Inhaling, I pushed it off and brushed at the fabric where his hand had been. “I’m not interested.”
“Come on, Silas. I can’t have any fun like this at the bar. Besides, it’s not about being interested,” he said, leaning down and putting his arm around my shoulder. “It’s about finding people who understand this place, people who can capture it in the way it deserves.”
Kyrin wasn’t the philosophical kind, more the type who went out of his way to find new ways to irritate people.
There was always a selfish reason behind his choices, and I’d been unfortunate enough to learn that multiple times throughout the years.
I could tell by just looking into his eyes.
With the same blue as mine, he had a swirl of certain silver mischief that appeared whenever he was looking to cause trouble.
Whatever his play was, I didn’t care. If he wanted to pay for absolute crap photography, he could be the one to pay again when it got redone.
I stood, pushing him off me. “Bullshit or not, I want to see proof she can handle the event, and tonight is as good as any other. Make sure she’s here before the late rush, and we can do a test run.
Matter of fact, you better be here too. I’m not dealing with”—I waved the card in the air before throwing it back on my desk—“Ms. Sunshine alone.”
Kyrin watched the card slide across the wood. “She’ll be here.”
We both nodded in agreement as I turned to my cabinet and pulled a file out.
A rough slap on my back made my blood pressure rise, and I looked toward the shit-eating grin that covered my brother's face. “I was planning on visiting some of your rooms anyway, I guess I’ll just stick around until seven.”
I exhaled, turning to face him. Of course that was it, the little shit just wanted to let off some steam.
Regardless, no matter how I looked at the situation, there wasn’t a downside.
Best case, the pictures worked out. Worst case, I hired the most expensive photographer I knew. I nodded slowly. “Fine.”
Kyrin grinned and pumped his fist into the air. “Fuck y—!”
“On one condition”—, My voice stopped him in the middle of his celebratory dance—“you actually come to dinner this week.”
His jaw snapped shut, and I could have sworn I saw a slight eye roll at my stipulation. “We’re not kids anymore. Do we really have to do the stupid dinners?”
“You’re right. You’re not a kid. That means you are more than capable of showing up on time and sitting still.”
Kyrin swallowed whatever words were teetering on his tongue, and I took the silence as agreement. Dipping my chin at him in approval, I moved my attention back to my files.
“And throw that godforsaken card in the trash on your way out.”
Chuckling, he snapped his Volunteer mask back on. “Sure thing. I’ll be around if you need me.”