‘I-need-a-man,’ he said very slowly, enunciating each word. ‘A man, Miss Linton. Not a girl who will run off screaming at the things she will see where my kind of business takes me.’
‘I hold you to your word,’ I replied, glaring just as stubbornly, though maybe not quite so impressively, back at him. ‘I ask you: Are you a gentleman or a liar? You told me to come and work for you. I didn’t ask you. And now you want to back out?’
He stared at me. And stared. And stared.
Half a minute.
An entire minute.
After two minutes, I was getting fidgety and wanted to blink, but didn’t. I was not backing down on this. He would have to keep his word or throw me out into the street himself!
Three whole minutes he looked at me like this. Then, towards the end of the third minute, something seemed to spark in his dark eyes, and though his facial expression didn’t really change, he somehow suddenly seemed… satisfied. Victorious. Oh no. He had decided to forget about honour and throw me out! I knew it! I just knew it!
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘The position is yours.’
My jaw dropped. What? Had I heard correctly?
‘It… it is?’ I stammered, unable to contain my surprise.
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice as cool and calm as ever. ‘I gave my word, and my honour is at stake here. Naturally, a gentleman must keep his word. The position of private secretary belongs to you.’
My heart started hammering wildly. Was this really it? Finally? My independence? My chance to build a career as a free woman?
But there was something that wasn’t quite right. Mr Ambrose didn’t look resigned. In spite of the fact that this should be nettling him to no end, he looked… pleased with himself. Darn pleased with himself. Though of course he didn’t go so far as to actually allow a smile to appear on his stony features, I could feel it. Self-satisfaction radiated off him. Like a sleek black cat that doesn’t need to smile, only show its claws to prove to the world how superior it is.
‘You will, of course, be wearing the proper uniform,’ he said, looking down at the papers on his desk again.
I frowned.
‘Uniform?’ I hadn’t seen anyone in his office so far who wore a uniform. What was he talking about?
‘Certainly,’ he replied, still not looking up. ‘The same uniform you wore on the day I first had the pleasure to meet you, Mister Linton.’
It took a moment or two, then the penny dropped. I jumped up from my chair as if it had bit me in the arse.
‘You expect me to come and work for you dressed up as a man?’ I gasped.
He looked up, sharply. ‘I expect you to come to work dressed exactly the same as on the day I acquired your services, Mister Linton. I want exactly what I bought, and I am going to get it. Do you understand that, Mister Linton?’
‘I won’t do it!’
He was out of his chair and around the desk in a heartbeat.
‘It is your choice,’ he said, stepping so close to me that our lips were almost touching. ‘Either do what I say - or get another job.’
For a moment, my heart stood still as I gazed up into his deep, dark, dangerous eyes. Then I tore myself away from the sight, turned on my heels and angrily stomped towards the door. I threw it open and rushed past the bewildered Mr Stone.
‘Good day, Miss Linton,’ he called after me, hardly concealed triumph in his voice.
Well, I thought to myself, We'll just see about that! He wants war? He can have it!
File Fight
‘Excuse me?’
Mr Stone looked up from his desk and his eyes widened.
‘I would like to see Mr Ambrose, please. I have an appointment.’