Page 15 of Storm of Bells
‘What do you think you are playing at, MrLinton?’
‘What am I playing?’ I gave him a charmingsmile. ‘Why, your game of course. You want me to make your producta success? Well, I’ll do it.’
‘You will, will you?’
‘You don’t believe I can?’
Diplomacy had never been Mr Rikkard Ambrose’sstrong suit. Neither had verbosity.
‘No.’
‘Well then, you’ve got nothing to lose, doyou? How about a little bet?’
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and hisgrip on me tightened. ‘I do not bet. I am not in the habit ofthrowing my money away.’
‘Oh, but this isn’t about money. This isabout you and me. So, what about it? Chicken?’
His grip tightened even more, as if he weretrying to permanently bind me to him. Poor man. Didn’t he realizehe didn’t need his hands for that?
‘I’m not afraid of anything!’
For a moment, I contemplated answering withthe word ‘mother’—but on the whole I decided that I’d betternot.
‘Then prove it! You have until the wedding totry and get rid of me. You can give me any task you want, throwanything in my way you can possibly think of to make me quit—butonly until the wedding! If I haven’t left work by the time we’vetied the knot, you will not try to fire me again, unless it is fora valid reason that you can explain to me without your littlefinger twitching! Do we have a deal?’
He hesitated.
That right there, that little moment, warmedmy heart more than anything else could. He might not be able toadmit it to anyone, least of all himself, but deep inside, hebelieved that yes, perhaps, with a boatload of luck, I might beable to pull this off—no matter that I didn’t know the first thingabout advertising. He believed in me. And he clearly loathed thatfact. Wasn’t he just adorable?
‘My little finger,’ he gritted out betweenclenched teeth, ‘does not twitch.’
Raising a hand, I jabbed a finger into hischest—and immediately regretted it. Damn, he was hard!
‘Do. We. Have. A. Deal?’
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.A long, long moment. At last…
‘Challenge accepted, Mr Linton.’ His ice-coldeyes bored into me. ‘We have a deal.’
***
‘Cocaine in your cocoa! There’s nothingquite like it. Hm…no. That won’t work. How about…Get somecocaine for your coconut! Now 30% off!Hm…no. Damn! I’m dealingwith Mr Rikkard Ambrose here. He won’t be pleased if I startselling the stuff off cheap.’
Frantically scratching my head, I marched upand down in my office. I had been at it the last three days, eversince we had returned from our meeting with Mr Humphreys and MrByrd. I had hardly even returned home to sleep and eat. And whatdid I have to show for my efforts? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Well, except perhaps some grooves in thefloor from marching up and down too long. Huzzah!
Concentrate, Lilly. Work! Think aboutcocaine.
What could I possibly do with the stuff?Slogans wouldn’t be enough. Something bigger and better was neededto get rid of such a massively unpopular product. Hm…who wouldpossibly be interested in its properties? Reaching for the factsheet, I once again reviewed the description. But nothing jumpedout at me. Muttering a curse, I returned to marching andproclaiming slogans until I was hoarse from shouting.
Reaching for a nearby bottle of water, Ifilled a glass—but before I could take a sip, a coughing fitovercame me. Hurriedly, I took a few gulps. The cool water was ablessed relief to my overused vocal cords, but they still felt raw.If only there was something…
I froze.
Could it be this easy?
Carefully, I put down the glass of waterwhile turning the idea over in my head. It was so simple. Soseamless. So…so…
