Page 33 of Storm of Bells
I swallowed, my eyes caught on the last fewwords.
I love you, too.
Too!
Bastard son of a bachelor! How did he know?How could he know that I was lying through my teeth?
Damn him, the sweet, chauvinistic arse!
But I wasn’t beaten. Not by any means.Shoving the pile of notes towards the machine, I started to dig in.By the time Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped into my office again, I washanging in my chair, panting, exhausted—but victorious!
‘Ah.’ He surveyed the pile of typed paperwith cool disinterest. ‘Adequate. Quite adequate.’
‘It was no problem,’ I rasped, giving him atriumphant smile. ‘This new machine is fabulous. The best inventionever.’
‘How fortunate. Then you won’t mind mydictating a few more letters, will you?’
Why? Why couldn’t I keep my big mouthshut?
‘Let us begin, shall we?’ He cleared histhroat.
‘TothepresidentofHenningtonMachinery&Co,Imustexpressmydispleasurewiththedirectionyourbusinesshasrecentlytaken—’
I put up with it for ten more minutes. Then,finally, I’d had enough. Work was one thing, this was anotheraltogether.
‘Slower!’ I growled between clenchedteeth.
Mr Ambrose’s incessant stream ofcorrespondence ceased. A pair of ice-cold eyes fixed on me.
‘Whatdid you say, Mr Linton?’
Meeting his gaze head-on, I raised my chin.‘I said slower!’
‘Are you trying to give me orders, MrLinton?’
One corner of my mouth curled up. ‘It’s goodpractise for when we are married.’
Abruptly, the atmosphere in the room changed.A moment before, we had been employer and employee. Now,however…
In a blink, he was in front of me, his eyesburning into me, his fingers capturing my face. ‘No one gives meorders, Mr Linton. Do you understand?No one.’
I didn’t back down. ‘You will go slower! Youwill, or I’ll…or I’ll…’
Power and arrogance flashed in his deep, darkeyes. ‘Or you’ll do what, Mr Linton?’
‘Or I’ll name our first child Qwerty UiopAmbrose!’
Mr Ambrose stiffened. His fingers tighteneddeliciously.
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
No, I wouldn’t. But he didn’t need to knowthat.
I grinned up at him. ‘Try me!’
For a moment or two, we stood like that,staring at each other—then he abruptly released me.
‘I suppose I could go a little slower. Iwould not want to put too much strain on that expensivemachine.’
