Page 21 of The Firefighter's Fate

EMBER

“You must be Ember,” Spencer Penmayne says when he first sees me standing in the doorway of his lecture hall.

“I am,” I reply confidently. “And you must be Spencer.”

“Indeed, I am. I’ve been expecting you. Please step into my office.”

I can see a lot of his famous father in Spencer – that same chiseled, impossible handsomeness, those dark, penetrating eyes, that confident, arrogant swagger of a powerful man. His short inky black hair is slicked back stylishly. His eyebrows are arched and scholarly. His jaw is square.

And he’s wearing a beautiful, tailored suit, clearly made by some elite designer. His whole aura is very damn sophisticated. I can’t stop staring at the man. His sky-blue eyes betray an inner deep intelligence that makes me feel very... seen.

I can tell this is a man who is incredibly well-read and self-assured.

Damn, he could be a world-famous model if he weren’t a world-famous professor...

“Yep,” I reply, and Spencer nods to a back room.

I follow the gorgeous man through the massive lecture hall and into his private office. Like with Damon, I’ve also done my research on this man. He was a child prodigy. A genius at every academic field he put his mind to - a smarter ten-year-old than most fully grown adults, with an IQ beating many chess grandmasters. Then, after his teenage years, he moved to Europe and its prestige universities to study before ending up in an esteemed Ivy League school here in Boston teaching before deciding to throw away that prestige life to come and teach at a normal university like CRU. It was an odd decision, and it breathed plenty of gossip in the higher circles of academia, but it was well-reported that Spencer didn’t seem to care. He simply wanted to give back to his hometown, and becoming a professor at its sole university was a hell of a lot more than giving back.

His office is what you’d expect of a genius professor. It seems like every single classic book ever written line the shelves. I wouldn’t put it past the man that he’s read every one cover-to-cover. Loose pieces of paperwork lie scattered on his desk. It’s clear he’s a man who has a boundless, overflowing, and messy passion for his work.

Spencer gestures to a seat. We both settle in.

I made this meeting via email yesterday, and I’m surprised how Spencer was quick to accept. Maybe it’s because I’m a journalist with his father’s company. I have a feeling Connor won’t be so inviting as his brother when it comes to speaking to him.

The professor is the first here to open their mouth.

“So, Ember, you’re here to talk about my brother Connor, aren’t you?”

Straight into it?

Spencer leans back in his chair with a smile at my surprised reaction to his bluntness and his perception. He knows he’s caught me off-guard. I didn’t tell him in my email about my true reason for visiting Crystal River.

Yeah, he’s a very smart and insightful man...

“How did you guess?” I ask him.

“Father told me.”

“Ah. So you agree with what Mr. Penmayne says about your brother?”

Spencer’s relaxed expression doesn’t change.

“I think Father thinks he’s doing what is best,” he smoothly mutters.

“And what about you, though?” I ask. “What do you truly think?”

“I have to admit, Ember, that I’m wary of you being a journalist. I hope you don’t mind that I’m holding back some details. I’m going to be careful with my words.”

“I would say that’s wise,” I reply. “I would be wary of me if I were in your position.”

“All of us Penmaynes are wary of journalists,” Spencer says. “To be honest, I don’t think you’ll get Connor to talk to you, or even to say hello. He certainly won’t be as welcoming as me, that’s for sure.”

“Is that so? Why’s that?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“It’ll be impossible to get that man to divulge his true feelings. It’s hard enough being his brother...”

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