The Fernsby Mansion (II)
The owner met me at the door last time.
I guess I warrant a butler now?
The man's voice carries a hint of amusement, as if he's privy to some inside joke I'm not aware of. I take a moment to study him, my eyes drawn to the stark contrast between his youthful features and the shock of silver hair adorning his head.
"Thank you. I'm here to—"
"Discuss security upgrades, yes. Please, follow me."
He turns on his heel, not waiting for my response. I hurry to keep up, my heels clicking against the marble floor. As we walk, I can't help but steal glances at him. His skin glows with a healthy tan, the kind that speaks of hours spent under the sun. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he's a vampire. But no, that can't be right. Vampires and tans don't exactly go hand in hand.
"I don't believe we've met before," I say, trying to break the silence. "I'm Nicole."