Chapter 33
33
EMBER
The gates of the Penmayne mansion open up, and I am slowly driven inside the dragon’s den. I’m pretty damn terrified, that’s for sure. The walls give way to a large compound full of everything a billionaire family would want or need – helicopter pads, luscious gardens, and a long driveway leading up to a grand old house. There’s a simple unfussiness to the splendor on display here. It’s an ancient building by North American standards – all red brick and Victorian features. Large windows and white columns support a portico.
People back at work have rarely been in here, even though Waylen prefers to work from this mansion rather than any fancy skyscraper. But, despite that, the Penmaynes tend to keep their Crystal River home as separate from their business dealings. They don’t usually invite people from his work world here. This is a private space - their real home, despite all their property everywhere else in the world.
Yeah, and it’s super intimidating. This quiet grandeur is all very different from the down-to-earth rough Connor Penmayne I’ve gotten to know. No wonder he feels like he doesn’t belong here.
Waylen has asked to see me. That’s the only reason why I’m here.
And, despite my journalist background handling situations like these, I am absolutely terrified .
Outside the front door of the main building, a butler dressed in a sharp suit is waiting for me with a frown.
“Ember Mortensen?” he asks me as I step out of the car that Waylen sent to the motel for me.
“Yep, that’s me. Hello.”
“Follow me.”
Gee, no charm or cheeriness here, then.
I’ve come to expect that from the Penmaynes. Money allows you the freedom not to engage in small talk or common manners.
I don’t know what I’m expecting from this place, but inside the main mansion, I am not disappointed.
There are framed artworks that hang on the walls. A widespread staircase leads up and up and up to the higher levels intimidates. Everything is so grand and so well-maintained - they must have a small army of staff just to tend to everything in here.
Without allowing me to pause and admire, the butler guides me upstairs to the top level. He takes me all the way to a closed set of double doors.
“This is Mr. Penmayne’s office,” he tells me in a flat, unemotional tone. “Not many people are invited in here.”
“I feel so very honored,” I reply.
If the butler detects sarcasm in my tone, he doesn’t show it.
“Please be respectful of Mr. Penmayne’s time. He’s a very busy person.”
“Oh, yes. I know.”
The butler knocks on the door before swinging it open.
Waylen Penmayne is sitting behind his desk, signing a form with all the coiled, languid energy of a predator feline. He looks just as scary as he did back in his penthouse office in the city. His perfect grey hair shines from the light emanating from the window behind him. His eyes are lasers glimmering across the room.
The butler shuts the door behind us, leaving me alone with the great man.
I slowly walk over to the desk.
Why have I been summoned?
Waylen finally lifts his head to look at me dead in the eyes.
“How are you finding Crystal River, Ember?” he asks in his deep, smooth voice.
“It’s a small town,” I reply, guarded with my words. I can’t make out the man or his intentions at all.
“You’re correct,” he says, still regarding me closely. “It must feel very different to the city.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“And have you had any luck with Connor? Have you met him?”
This is clearly why he invited me here today. He wants an update. I’m not surprised.
“I have,” I say. “He’s spoken to me. I got to interview him.”
“Interesting,” Waylen says, pondering. “I’m amazed that you’ve got through to him, knowing his defenses. What have you two spoken about?”
“Well... firefighting . Basically.”
Waylen leans back in his chair.
“Ah, of course.”
“I’ve seen him in action,” I say. “He’s really impressive.”
Waylen is unmoved.
“He could be doing better things than just being a lowly firefighter,” he purrs quietly.
I look at his desk. There are framed photos of his family - the Penmayne boys, all much younger than they are now. I spot Connor. His arms are firmly around Spencer and Victor. They’re teenagers. They’re grinning from ear to ear. They look happy.
“He loves his job,” I say softly to the Penmayne patriarch. “He loves being a firefighter. That’s as clear as anything.”
Waylen ponders what I say for a moment, nodding.
“Connor was a really smart boy,” he finally says. “And he was very handy.”
“Perfect for a firefighter,” I reply.
There’s another long pause from the man before he speaks again.
“Do you think you two get on well?” he asks.
The man stares up at me, unblinking. I really can’t tell what’s going on in his head... what thoughts he’s processing. It’s obvious he’s a deeply intelligent man, and incredibly fortified with his mind.
I don’t know if he’s happy with my work so far.
I don’t know where he’s going with this questioning.
I shrug.
“Yeah, I think so. We’ve spoken a few times. It seems like Connor doesn’t open up to anyone.”
“You think he’s opening up to you, Ember?” he questions.
I shrug again.
“I think so.”
Waylen nods again.
“That’s good. I thought you two might get along.”
“Really?” I ask.
Somehow, I feel like I’ve been used as an unwilling pawn in a much larger scheme conjured up by this man sitting opposite me.
“I didn’t just invite you here just to see how you’re going with the article,” Waylen Penmayne reveals softly.
“Oh, no?”
“No. I want something else,” he continues. “There’s another reason I’ve got you to come all this way to Crystal River to meet and ingratiate yourself with my son.”
I gulp.
Yeah, I really don’t know where this is going.
“What is it?”
“I want you, Ember, to arrange a meeting between Connor and me.”