Page 14 of Storm of Bells
‘Then how about switching the medium foradvertising?’ I mused. ‘Instead of just placing ads in newspapers,we could put up giant, brightly coloured posters on boards next tovarious roads.’
Mr Humphreys snorted. ‘As if anyone wouldever believe something that is scribbled on the side of the road.Ha! Amateurs!’
The other gentleman chuckled. I felt heatrising to my face, and instinctively glanced towards Mr Ambrose—whowas not chuckling. In fact, he was regarding me quite intently.
‘Silence!’
That one word was sufficient to cut off theboys’ club’s amusement. Rising, Mr Ambrose stepped towards me.
‘So…you think you can do a better job of itthan the professionals, Mr Linton?’
‘If those are the professionals?’ I threw alook at Messrs Humphrey and Byrd. ‘Definitely.’
Too bad I wasn’t going to get the chance.
‘Adequate. The job is yours, Mr Linton.’
Wait,what?
‘What?’ Mr Humphrey jumped up. Amazing. I hadthe same thought as that old geezer? Maybe I had worn trousers toolong. ‘What did you say?’
Mr Ambrose gave the man a look that wouldhave made an ice sculpture feel chilly. ‘I am not in the habit ofrepeating myself, Mr Humphreys.’
‘Well, you had bloody well better do itanyway!’ I told him, sticking a finger in my ear and slowly turningit. Surely, I had to have earwax in there somewhere. ‘Because Ithink there’s something wrong with my ears.’
‘There most definitely isn’t.’ Turningtowards me, Mr Ambrose sent a look towards me as well. A totallydifferent look that slid up and down my body, and said:There’snothing wrong with your ears—nor with the rest of you. I had towork hard to suppress a shiver. ‘This is your chance, MrLinton.’
‘M-my chance?’
‘Certainly. After all, you have expressedyour wishes to remain in my employ long-term. Do you always intendto remain a secretary, or do you plan to develop your talents atsome point and make something more of yourself? Here is your chanceto prove yourself.’
Or to make an utter fool of yourself soyou can come running home to me and be my good littlewifey.
He didn’t speak the words out loud, but hemight as well have shouted them. The expressions of Messrs Humphreyand Byrd behind him spoke volumes. Mr Ambrose’s arctic gaze boredinto me with icy intensity, and I realized:He expects me to sayno. He expects me to fold.
I grinned.
Apparently, he didn’t know me quite wellenough yet.
‘All right.’
Mr Byrd shot out of his chair.‘What?’
I glanced at him and his fellow director.‘You two are rather fond of that word, aren’t you?’
‘Their exclamations are understandable, MrLinton.’ Mr Ambrose leaned forward, fingers steepled. ‘Your joke isin rather poor taste.’
‘Joke? What joke would that be?’ Giving him abright smile, I grabbed the pile of documents spread on the table,shouldered it with the muscles built up during hours upon hours offile-fetching, and strode towards the door. ‘Let’s go, shallwe?’
And, ducking underneath a startled Karim’sarm, I slipped out into the corridor before anyone could say athing.
As quickly as I could, I descended the stepsand crossed the entrance hall.
How long will it take him to catch up to me?Hm…any moment now. Three…two…o—
A hand as hard as stone closed around my arm.My momentum carried us both forward and, together, we tumbledthrough the front doorway. Whirling me around, Mr Ambrose pressedme against the wall of the house, the pile of files like a shieldbetween us.
Ice-cold eyes burned into me.
