Page 234 of Storm of Bells
Time to get down to business.
‘Let’s proceed, shall we?’ Sitting down, Iflicked through the document. ‘Everything seems to be in order. Butbefore I proceed to signing—’
‘Before I proceed to signing,’ she suddenlycut me off, ‘you should wait, Sir.’
My hand froze in mid-air, halfway to my pen.My eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. What was this? Delaytactics? I thought she of all people would know better than to usethose kinds of stratagems on me.
‘Pardon, Mr Linton? What did you say?’
‘I said you should wait.’ She raised herchin. ‘At least a week or two.’
I cocked my head. Not that I would haveadmitted it, but I was mildly curious. ‘And why, pray, should I dothat?’
Her chin was lifted a little farther. ‘You’remaking a judgement on my advertising campaign based solely on yourpersonal assessment. You taught me that judgement in businessshould be based on one thing, and one thing only.’
Hm.
Blast it! She had a point.
The one base for judgement in business…
‘Success.’ My voice was icy as the arcticsea.
The smirk on her face made me want to spankher. Or kiss her. Or both. ‘Indeed, Sir.’
For a long moment, silence reigned in theroom—then I pulled back my hand from the documents, spearing herwith my gaze.
‘And you think I should give you a whole weekto see if your product becomes successful?’
She didn’t flinch away from my gaze for asecond. ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘My clocks tick faster than yours, Mr Linton.Knowledge is power is time is money. However…’ I stroked a fingeralong my jawline in contemplation. ‘However, no one can say that Iam not fair.’
She blinked. ‘They can’t?’
I felt a single muscle twitch in irritation.‘No. Theycan’t.’
Mostly because I would fire them or sue themif they did, but that was beside the point.
‘Oh.’
‘Which is’, I continued, my irritationevaporating as it was replaced my rising triumph, ‘why I havealready called for someone from the sales department to bring methe latest sales figures on your…confectionaries before I dismissyou. Perhaps it will teach you a lesson.’
A knock came from the door.
‘Ah. That will be him. Enter!’
The door opened cautiously, and a young manstuck his head inside. ‘Err…may I, Mr Ambrose?’
Impatiently, I motioned for the boy to enter.‘Yes, yes, Ellis. Come in. Do you have the figures of how muchmoney this atrocious scheme has cost me?’
Stepping in, Ellis cleared his throat. ‘Well,yes…in a way, Sir. And no.’
Speaking in riddles? To me? Was this fellowaskingto be fired? ‘What do you mean, man? Speakclearly!’
The young man clutched the folder in front ofhis chest like a shield. The astonishingly thick, voluminousfolder, considering that all it was supposed to contain was zeroprofits.
‘Well, um, Sir…I have the numbers, but…’ Theboy clutched the folder even closer. ‘But they may not be exactlywhat you…what you…’
