Ding!

Dong!

Blast, blast, blast! I was going to be late! That bloody son of a bachelor was going to freeze me to death with his cold stare the minute I walk in and threaten to deduct my wages!

Ding!

Dong!

Determined to keep my pretty paycheck, I redoubled my efforts up the endless amount of stairs, my lungs feeling as if they were on fire. Perhaps you shouldn't have eaten all those chocolates yesterday... Shut up!

Ding!

Dong!

Ding!

The clock struck 7 just as I made it to the top floor. Thank God!

"Good...morning... Mr...Stone," I panted breathlessly.

"Mr. Linton! Good morning. Here are today's letters. Oh, and Mr. Ambrose says you should go straight to your office today," Mr. Stone said with a smile on his face. How is that man smiling this early in the morning? Especially with Mr. Ice King so near!

"Thank you, Mr Stone," I said, grinning at him. I whistled as I made my way into my office, plopping the stack of letters onto my desk and taking a seat.

Plink!

Jumping at the sound, I turned to see a small slip of paper on my desk.

Mr. Linton,
Slide today's letters under the door once you have sorted them.
Rikkard Ambrose

I huffed at the note. So he's back to the good ol' pneumonic tube, is he?

"Good morning to you too, Sir!" I shouted. No reply. Hmph!

After sorting out all the charity letters and a certain pink scented envelope, I got up from my desk to slide the letters under the door. As I crouched near the door, I heard something strange. It sounded like... coughing? Following by a muffled sneeze. Strange. Mr. Ambrose never wastes time on useless bodily functions.

Shrugging, I pushed the letters under the door and went back to my desk. Spinning in my chair, I awaited my next instructions.

*********

The bloody bastard had me running back and forth around the office all day! I was fetching different files left and right and rushing to slide them under the door. All the while, I had kept pestering my dear employer to explain why the door connecting our offices remained shut.

"Sir," I said in the most sugary sweet fairy-godmother voice possible. "I would like to inquire as to why the bloody hell your door is locked?"

Plink!

I rushed over to my desk to retrieve the slip of paper.

Mr. Linton,
Do not disturb me. I am busy.
Rikkard Ambrose

Hmph! Busy my arse! The man was up to something, and I was going to get to the bottom of it!

*********

As the day wore on, Mr. Ambrose demanded less and less files of me until the office was dead silent. This isn't right. Did he leave early? No... he would never waste time being inefficient.

"Mr. Ambrose? Are you there?" I called out.

Silence. But this time, not the kind of silence which I was used to. This was an empty silence, rather than Mr. Ambrose choosing not to waste his breath. What the heck?

I came to a decision. I was going to break into his office. He wouldn't mind, would he? I dug through my pockets, tossing empty chocolate wrappers to the floor as I searched for my keys. Aha! I searched through the massive onset of keys, trying to figure out which one led to Mr. Ambrose's office.

"Nope, not this one, bloody hell... ah, here we go!" I found the old, rusty-looking master key and shoved it into the lock.

As I slowly pushed the door open, I gasped, taken aback at what I was seeing. It was something I had never seen before, nor I thought I would ever bear witness...

Mr. Ambrose, asleep at his desk! His head was tilted back in his chair, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. The only sign of life was the minuscule rise and fall of his chest. As I crept closer, I noticed something different about him. His usual pale skin was tinted a sickly pallor color, and the area surrounding his nose was red. He's sick?

"Mr. Ambrose? Mr. Ambrose, Sir! Are you there?" I called. Nothing. Not even a twitch. I decided to take my actions a step further. Raising my hand cautiously, I placed it on his shoulder and tried to shake him.

Big mistake.

The moment my hand touched him his eyes shot open, strong arms grabbing me by the waist and twisting me around so my back was to him and his hand squeezing at my throat. Bloody hell! Although this position is a little nice, don't you think? Shut up!

"Hey! Let go, will you?" I said, twisting my head around to glare at him.

"Mr. Linton! What did I say about disturbing me," he growled, letting me go. I stood up, brushing the dust off of my tailcoat and rearranging my hat.

"Um... to not do it? Hey, why does your voice sound like that?" I had just noticed his voice sounded groggy and scratchy as he spoke.

"It is nothing."

"Are you ill, Sir?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I refuse to acknowl--" he was cut off as his body was racked with a series of coughs. I noticed his eyes were rimmed with red, as if he hadn't slept the previous night.

I felt my heart clench at the sight.

"Sir, you realize the only way to get better is to rest," I advised, rolling my eyes while glaring at him. What a bloody idiot!

"I have work to do!" he growled, his little finger twitching in annoyance.

"I'm sure your empire will not crumble to the ground because you didn't work for one day. Now, you've mentioned you keep a bed here. Where is it?"

"That's none of your business," he rasped.

"Like hell it is! Now, show me where it is or I'll strip myself naked and run down the halls of this building," I threatened.

"You wouldn't," he said, but eyed me suspiciously. I shrugged, and started unbuttoning my tailcoat. "Stop that!" he hissed.

"Not unless you show me where your living quarters are," I said sweetly, continuing to pop buttons. Before I reached the last button, he swiftly stood up from his chair and grabbed my arms, pinning them down so I couldn't move.

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth.

"Lead the way," I grinned, however wincing at the harsh way his fingers gripped my shoulders. He steered me towards a secret door, hidden behind a large shelf of files so it couldn't be seen at first glance. Hmm, I never knew this was here...

The door led us through a barren, dark corridor, until we finally reached another door.

As Mr. Ambrose pushed the door open, my eyes widened in shock as I looked around. It was a tiny room with plain, barren walls. In one corner sat a small cot covered in a thin linen sheet. Along the other side of the wall, a small counter stood with a stovetop, a sink, and some cabinets. A single window hovering over the bed let in a sliver of sunlight, highlighting all of the dust motes floating in the air. The room looked like a damn prison cell!

"This place looks like it hasn't been touched in years!" I exclaimed, running a finger along the counter and tracing a path amongst the thick layer of dust.

"That's because it hasn't," Mr. Ambrose wheezed. Shortly after, he broke into another fit of coughs, loud enough to wake an army of giants.

"Bloody hell, Sir, lay down on the bed," I coaxed him.

Silence. I could see his jaw ticking in protest.

I glared him down until he slowly, strenuously moved towards the bed, lifted the sheet, and slid in. "There you go!" I encouraged him. "Now, just lay back and try to get some rest. I'm going to make you some soup that my sister Ella always makes me when I fall ill."

He grunted in annoyance, but I saw his eyes close as he crossed his arms over his chest. Walking over to him, I pulled the sheet up to his chin. My hand brushed his cheek as I was pulling away and I gasped. His body was freezing! And the idiot didn't even have the gall to say anything. Not only was he cold emotionally, but physically too it appeared.

Shrugging off my tailcoat that was still halfway unbuttoned, I carefully placed it atop him in hopes of sustaining some warmth. I stood there for a moment, admiring his features. My eyes traced over his sharp jawline to the slight redness of his straight nose, until reaching the long, dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. Of course, even when he's sick he manages to look perfect!

Turning on my heel, I made my way over to the kitchen area. Time to get cooking! But not because I was under the influence that women belonged in the kitchen, no, that idea was planted into society by bird-brained chauvinists. No, I was going to make soup for my employer because he was the one who paid me every month! If he perished, I wouldn't be able to buy solid chocolate anymore. Not for any other reasons. Nope. Not at all. Are you sure about that? Is it not because deep down, you care for his well-being? No, now shut up!

Placing a pot of water over the stove, I got to work...

~TO BE CONTINUED~

Greetings! Hope I didn't leave you all hanging too badly. I could never measure up to Sir Rob's level of cliffhanging. :)
-T