Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Harrington froze, staring at him sidelong, his blush deepening.
Before he lifted his chin with clear pride, and fixed his gaze firmly back on the screen.
Very well, Brand thought with a touch of amusement. If his young Master didn’t want to discuss it, then far be it from him to press the matter.
“I’m not sure this is the best place to start unraveling everything,” Harrington mumbled. “But it was the first thing I could halfway make sense of. Got to start somewhere, right?”
“Somewhere is better than nowhere, young Master,” Brand murmured.
And that was that.
Somewhere turned out to be a spaghetti tangle of maritime shipping laws and some kind of problem with the containers, delaying shipment until a replacement could be found. The sourcing department had been on top of it, quickly finding a supplier for new containers, but a purchase that large had required a Harrington to sign—and there had been no Harrington in residence to do so.
Brand walked Ashton Harrington through not just signing off on things without reading, but on understanding why this mattered—how it impacted the entire business, when one late shipment took time away from other things that must be done on a tight schedule to fulfill a number of global contracts. Rather like a game of Jenga…pull the wrong block loose, and everything came tumbling down until there was nothing left to do but stack up again and start over.
“Is that how bad it’s gotten in a few days?” Harrington asked, staring morosely at the dozen documents open on his screen. “I just…let everything fall apart, and now we have to rebuild?”
“Not yet,” Brand said. “But the tower is teetering. Be very careful where you pull, young Master.”
Wide, almost frightened blue eyes flicked to him. Harrington swallowed. “I don’t know where to pull. I…show me?” His soft lips pressed together, the shape of teeth pushing from the inside, their plushness briefly drawing Brand’s eye and reminding him of that moment when Harrington had gone soft against him with his mouth ripe and wet, a sweet darkness waiting to be explored. “Really show me. Show me what it means. Don’t just tell me what to do.”
“Ah,” Brand replied, and bit back his smile again. “As my young Master wishes.”
And so they spent the day: navigating through a tangled mess of contracts and schedules and trade agreements, researching maritime trade law, sending emails, dashing off signatures. Harrington looked as if he’d break down crying at any moment, but every time he started to falter something went stiff in his spine and his mouth tightened and he glared at the laptop screen. Brand tactfully kept his mouth shut, and only gave him those moments to collect himself—and for today, Brand took on the task of making calls the young Master should be making, speaking as his representative and soothing ruffled hackles and offering adjusted timelines and favorable easements on contract terms to keep them from being cancelled altogether.
By the time close of business came, even Brand was starting to feel the strain around his eyes. They’d not even stopped for lunch, despite scheduling no fewer than nine business luncheons in the coming weeks so that key political players in the trade market could meet the new young prince of steel and make their obligatory obeisances. The young Master was, quite frankly, looking rather pale.
But he kept doggedly reading, the note pad at his side scribbled down with messy, scrawling handwriting jabbed in the notes he’d been taking all day. Master Harrington had taken his suit jacket off, draped it over the back of his chair, loosened his tie in a most disgraceful way, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Brand lingered on his profile, on the lines of determination written in his fiercely pretty features, a touch of youthful fire shining through his misery and despair.
He’d had his whinge, worked through his feelings…but he wasn’t giving up, Brand thought.
And so Brand held his tongue, and only bowed his head over his own work, organizing a tentative schedule over the coming months to restructure production to meet the most high-priority deadlines and reallocate materials for more critical projects until order could be restored.
However, he could only allow this to continue for so much longer—and when he heard the sound of a vacuum running in the reception room, he glanced up, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose and glancing out the window. The New York city skyline was all jewels on black velvet, bright colors glimmering and winking against dark silhouettes, the sky a bed of blue.
Bloody hell, it was after ten.
He saved the file he was working on, closed his laptop, and stood, touching Harrington’s shoulder.
“Young Master,” he said. “It’s well past time we leave. We’ll be in the way of the cleaning staff.”
Harrington jerked, rubbing at heavy, shadowed eyes, blinking slowly before looking owlishly at Brand. “What?” His dulled, tired gaze flicked between the laptop screen and Brand. “But…I’m not done…”