Storm and Silence

Storm and Silence Page 153

I sat there for a while. But after a few minutes, something intruded upon my befuddled brain. A feeling… something about my feet…

Did they feel colder?

Yes, they did. Colder, and colder and colder. And I couldn’t quite figure out why. Glancing down, I saw they looked perfectly normal. Two feet, with five toes each. But wasn’t there something missing?

Shoes! Shoes and socks, you idiot! I had left them in the bathroom.

Of course!

Carefully, I rose. The floor seemed to be peaceable right now. Should I dare dash across the room to the bathroom to get my shoes and socks, or would the evil beast try to buck me off again? Thoughtfully, I regarded the stone tiles. They seemed to be solid and still.

On a sudden impulse, I took a step forward, then another. Yay! The floor was apparently asleep and not intent on making trouble for me! I reached the bathroom door in no time at all, and without falling down once.

Mr Ambrose turned towards me as I passed.

‘Is something the matter, Mr Linton?’

‘My shoes,’ I growled. I wouldn’t be polite to him. Not now. Not after he made me feel so… so strangely alive just by looking at me. That was too damn peculiar! ‘I forgot them in the powder room, and my feet are getting cold.’

He nodded, coolly. ‘Be careful. You didn’t look too steady on your feet, earlier, and it would be a shame if you survived the gunfight only to break your neck in my office.’

‘I was perfectly steady! The floor was attacking me!’

‘Pardon?’

I just shook my head, not wasting my time on an answer. Unbelievable that a man who was supposed to be clever enough to have amassed an immense business empire couldn’t even understand that his own office floor was conspiring against unsuspecting visitors. Though I had to admit, it seemed to be quiet enough right at the moment. I had probably frightened it into submission with my implacable courage and determination.

I found my shoes and socks under the sink and returned to the office carrying both with me. Mr Ambrose was standing at his desk, turned towards me, a strange look on his face. He was probably finally considering the conspiracy of the office floor - as well he should! But at least I was safe. It wouldn’t dare attack me, seeing as I was so courageous and determined.

It was when I had crossed about half the distance to the visitor’s chair that the evil floor struck!

I felt my bare foot slipping on an unusually slippery piece of polished stone. My socks and shoes went flying, and I fell backwards, my arms flailing - until another pair of arms caught me in their strong hold. I gasped as they hauled me up. Not all the way up. Just far enough so I could feel my body pressing against that of the man who held me.

‘What did I tell you?’

Blinking, I tried to dispel the layer of mist that seemed to cloud my vision. Sparkly lights danced in front of my eyes. When they slowly disappeared I looked up into the dark, sea-coloured eyes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

‘What,’ he repeated very slowly and clearly, ‘did I tell you, Mr Linton?’

Once again his face was only inches away from mine, and suddenly my shoes and socks didn’t seem quite so important anymore.

I gulped. What was happening? ‘T-to be careful. You told me to be careful.’

‘Yes.’ His eyes darkened further, until they resembled the deepest abyss imaginable. ‘Too bad I don't ever listen to my own good advice.’

Then he plunged down.

For a moment, all my fuzzy mind could manage was the thought: What is he doing? Is he going to butt heads with me?

A second later that question was answered with a resounding negative, as his lips reached mine and enveloped them, soft as velvet and yet unyielding. They started to move, pushing my mouth apart and my conscious self out of my body.

What… wait, this couldn’t be right, could it? If somebody was touching his lips to mine, that would mean that they were… kissing me?

So he was.

Waves of heat raced through me as the realization hit my befuddled brain: Mr Ambrose was kissing me! His lips moving against my mouth, caressing, demanding. How… curious. For a moment, I was just numb.

Then, I remembered the world again, and I felt rage flood through me. How dare he? After treating me so abominably for the last few weeks, after humiliating me in public and insulting me again and again, after trying to rid himself of me a dozen times and wrecking my dreams, how dare he take such liberties with me? First he conspired with his office floor to trip me, and now he was kissing me!

And worse, far worse - he wasn’t just kissing me. He was making me like it! And he was somehow, by some nefarious chauvinistic manly trick, managing to make me kiss him back!

How dare he make me do this? How was he able to force me to respond to his kisses in a way I had never even imagined? I was sure it had to be his fault. Under no circumstances would I ever consent to let a man knead my lips like this, least of all him! The idea alone was abominable! Horrible! Horrific!

Though… now that I thought about it, the reality of it was actually… not… quite… so… horrific…

Somewhere along the line, the thought dissolved and vanished. The clarity of my mind was gone in the blink of an eye. Not drowned in alcohol this time, no. Drowned in the soft touch of his mouth.

His lips on mine felt so soft yet so strong, moulding themselves to the shape of mine, as if they had been meant to be there. As if on their own volition, my teeth opened and bit down on his lower lip, drawing it and him closer towards me. My hands grabbed his waistcoat lapel and pushed and pulled, venting my anger and frustration and… something else. Something I couldn’t name or define. I heard a strangled moan as if from a distance and realized, startled, that it came from my throat.

Suddenly, he broke away from me, leaving me gasping and weak-kneed. I was still in his arms, looking up into his chiselled face for the first time since our lips had touched. I could see something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous. They had widened, and I could see to their utmost, darkest depths.

‘Now do you believe me?’ His voice was still cold as ice, but rough now, as though covered with fresh frost. ‘You could never be like a man. Trust me, I would not have done that if you were one.’

Before I knew it, we were kissing again. My hands wandered from his lapels, over his rock-hard chest and onto his arms. My small hands weren’t large enough to fit around the muscles of his arm, so I grabbed hold of his shirt sleeves to… what? Push him away? Pull him closer? I seemed to be trying to do neither and both at the same time.