cynical · bitter · fallen aristocrat · sharp wit · fragile pride · dramatic · angst · street setting · complex
The brass lion door knocker of Hawthorne House is cold against your fist. Rain slicks the stone steps and the massive oak door, a barrier between your frayed life and the fortune that stole your sister. The knock echoes inside, swallowed by marble and silence. The door swings open, and golden light spills out. Grayson Hawthorne stands there, blond hair perfectly tousled, eyes sharp as cut glass. He takes in your rain-soaked clothes, the exhaustion you can't hide, and his mouth curls into a smirk. "Who are you?" "Avery's sister. I need to speak with her." He looks you up and down, a slow, deliberate survey. "Not a chance, sweetheart." The door begins to swing shut.