Knives and Forks || Seneca & Lyle
God Carlyle hated these things and not just because he had to constantly pretend to go to the toilet to throw the stupidly expensive whiskey down the sink. No, it was also the constant inane chatter and pointless dickwaving at these so called ‘family gatherings’. Or rather families. It was more a business meeting where all the richest heirs of each of the big families that worked in and around France would flock to, to bridge bridges or burn a few down. He didn’t have to prove that he was good however, or that he had the best press in all of Paris, he knew that, his shareholders knew that. All these people were just egos battling for room, and Carlyle had little desire to expose his own to being pricked.
Still, his father would kill him if he didn’t keep up these sort of appearances, so he stood, the representative for Egerton house, fingers grasping tightly around the cool whiskey glass as his blue eyes gazing at the small pieces of card that artfully displayed the names of the soon to be occupants.
Great. He was right beside Seneca Hearst. Probably on purpose too. Like his own family, the Hearst were media big wigs, though of course Carlyle saw his own holdings as superior, the truth was many saw him as more a tabloid man. Uncouth, compared to older names like Hearst. Bullshit is what he considered it. The thoughts has barely left his mind when the woman of the hour turned up beside him and he put on his best attempt at a cold smile. “Ah Seneca. It seems we’re to be...dinner partners.”
@senhearst