Page 231 of Storm of Bells
She considered for a moment. ‘Err…because youmight not have given it?’
I really, really felt tempted to grab her bythe scruff of the neck and slam her head against the wall. On theother hand, damaging the wall like that would be a complete wasteof money and time.
‘That’s the wholepointof asking forapproval, Mr Linton! Denying it is my prerogative as youremployer!’
She snapped her fingers. ‘Iknewtherewas something I didn’t like about this employment thing.’
‘You…you…’ There was simply no other way ofputting it. ‘Youifrit!’
She grinned. She had the nerve togrin.
‘Wipe that smirk off your face, Mr Linton!This is serious!’
‘Of course, Sir. Right away, Sir.’
She was still grinning.
‘Do you have any idea what damage thishair-brained scheme of yours is going to cause? How much money willbe wasted on insane, idiotic advertising?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my ideainsane—’
‘Indeed? Then what else would you callthis?’
Lifting the newspaper like a sharpenedspear—which unfortunately was nothing more than a simile—I thrustit into her face. From where I was sitting, I could not read thebold headline of the advertisement, but that didn’t mean I couldn’tstill see it in my mind’s eye, glaring at me in cheerfulcolours.
COCAINE COUGH DROPS
Instantly effective! Happy children guaranteed!
Only 1 pennyper bag![39]
I watched her as she studied the paper with acritical look on her face. Did she finally realize what she haddone? Did she finally realize what kind of crime against commerceshe had committed?
‘Hm…’ She nodded. ‘You’re right. I shouldhave added a snappy slogan. It’s missing something, don’t youthink?’
My fingers twitched, wanting to crumple upthe paper and hurl it at her head. But I resisted. This paper hadbeen paid for with my own money, after all, and I would needsomething a lot harder than paper to damage that head of hers. ‘Mydissatisfaction isnotaimed at the lack of a slogan.’
‘Oh? You like my work, then? Fabulous!’Before I could so much as twitch, she rushed towards me. Oldinstincts born from years of survival kicked in, making me raise myhands and tense for a fight—only to be engulfed in the one attack Ihad not expected.
A hug.
‘Fabulous! I’m so glad you approve.’
I barely heard her words. I was being hugged.Hugged. When had been the last time someone had pulled meinto their arms and simply held me? When had I last met a womanbrave enough, except for my mother? And the worst thing was: myarms were already rising, wanting to hug her back!
Immediately, I leapt back to a safedistance.
Concentrate, I told myself.Focus!And by that I mean on the matter at hand, not on how soft she feelsin your arms!
Yes. I had to think about advertising.Profits. Money. All much more important things than the strangeurge rising in me to pull this rebellious secretary of mine into myarms and never let her go! An urge which I wasdefinitelygoing to ignore. Yes, absolutely and definitely ignore!
Piercing her with the iciest gaze I couldmanage, I addressed the heavily drugged elephant in the room.
‘Cocaine cough drops?’ Lifting thepaper once again, I stabbed the advertisement. ‘Mr Linton, are youquite seriously saying that…that…I mean,sweets forchildren?’
And what was her grand, eloquent defence tomaking sick children addicted to drugs?
‘Well…a bad cough stinks.’
