Royally Kissed | ✓

48; the faces of janus

—fortyeight—

the faces of janus

ARTHUR WENT OUT of the comfort room and reached the hall when the Cadwyns' butler, Luis, emerged out of nowhere–he nodded politely, his demeanor all but telling him that he'd been waiting for a short while now. Which was odd, to say the least.

"Mr Huxley..."

"Luis." Arthur halted, and frowned at him. "You need something?"

The man pushed up his glasses, then tied his hands altogether by his lower abdomen in such courteous fashion. "I'm sorry for the interruption, sir, but Madam Chairman wish to speak with you."

Arthur held back himself from arching an eyebrow. "Uh–okay? About what? Should I call Paige–"

"No. She wants to see you alone."

"Oh." Arthur blinked, staring at him in more confusion. "Alright. Sure."

Luis nodded and gestured a hand aside. "Right this way, sir."

For some reason, Luis led him to the back end of the mansion where there was a veranda overlooking the garden and the other dimly lit mansions within the Wellton Estates from some distance away. But the darkness around the gallery was harsh, given that the towering gates where the outdoor wall lamps were glued against were situated a couple of meters off from where he was.

Arthur frowned why no one had torched the round stone fire pit placed just a little bit down the side of the veranda. He crossed his arms protectively in an attempt to repel the November cold.

"Well, where's the chairwoman?" he asked.

Luis said, "She'll be here in a minute."

And true enough, Luis left as soon as Isolde rounded from the bend a minute later, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. He couldn't make out her expression much in this light but he could imagine her usual stoic features. Quite frankly, he didn't like the situation at all–whatever it was that she needed him here for.

She didn't even offer to sit in the plush seats. It must be something urgent that her movements appeared like she'd wanted to get straight to the point. "Mr Huxley–"

He nodded gallantly. "Ma'am."

"–I am still trying to get my head around what you said at the hospital that your family, your father in particular, is running a construction firm–"

"That is correct, Ma'am–"

"You do not talk while I am talking."

Arthur twitched his tongue in his cheek, and bobbed his head knightly. "I apologize. I never meant to be rude. Please, carry on." He could've sworn that her eyebrow arched fleetingly before gazing out ahead of the view. Paige was important to him, but this woman was irrefutably difficult.

Isolde let out a breath, now rather irate. Her demeanor was calm and collected, but when she spoke, her tone was quiet but held something violent. "Like I said, you told us that Huxleys are running a construction company. I have been in the business for long, Mr Huxley, and I can say that I have rubbed my elbows against people from prominent families with well-regarded backgrounds; and I cannot help but wonder why your family appear to be shying away from the social circle. I understand if you are not too fond of the public eye. If you want to keep the mystery, you are doing a very good job from staying well out of the media and the elites altogether. But," she paused while staring down at him, her thoughts unreadable on her face. Her indifference was quite evident, despite the lack of brightness around, "Who are you?"