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palacechristianChristian strolled into his office, still in enough of a good mood to give Marcus a smile as he passed and to not snatch from his hand the list of messages received while he’d been out. But once he was inside and the door was closed, he let his guard down, allowing his shoulders to slump and running his fingers through his hair in a tired gesture.
God, what a day! And it was only half over! He still had lunch to get through, plus another round of meetings in the afternoon. If this didn’t teach him not to stay up half the night worrying himself stupid about . . . Well, at least that was sorted.
He pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie as he sat down and went through the list of messages, mostly inconsequential, but a couple that he needed to make note of. He reached behind him into his jacket pocket and pulled out his com, switching it on ready to transfer and noting the red flashing light that meant he had a message.
No, scratch that. He had a lot of messages. Frowning, he began to go through them but, as he read, the lines on his brow faded and he began to smile, a laugh breaking free as he read the last couple. Leaning back in his seat, he found himself grinning at the ceiling like an idiot. So, Harry was feeling better was he? Making a nuisance of himself too, by all accounts.
He pressed a quick-dial on the com. “Sean? It’s Christian. You wanted me?”
“Oh thank bloody Christ!” The voice on the other end was full of relief. “You gotta help me out here, mate.”
“Harry.” Christian chuckled. “I know. I’ve got a couple myself. He wants to know why you’re not answering his pings anymore.”
Sean could be heard cursing under his breath. “ . . . driving me bleeding mental, Christian. And not just me, either. He’s pinging Dom, too. Dom says he’s pinging Elijah and . . . well, anyone else whose number he’s got.”
“I’d say he’s on the mend.”
“He’ll need further care if I get hold of the bugger.” Sean groused mildly, his affection apparent. “Have a bloody word with him, will you? That’s why I called; he’ll listen to you.”
“Sure. I can try.” He made a study of the plasterwork on the ceiling, eyes tracing the lines that looked a bit like a running horse if you tipped your head just the right way . . . “Umm, Sean? What happens when he gets released to the infirmary here?”
The snort that followed was an opinion in and of itself and Christian could almost see the expression on Sean’s face that usually accompanied the sound. “We batten down the hatches.” Sean said. “That, or accidentally stand on his com unit while wearing a pair of heavy military boots.”
“We must be able to do better than that.” Christian offered.
A thoughtful silence greeted his unspoken invitation. Then . . .
“What do you have in mind?”
“Convalescence.” Christian was quick off the mark, the idea coming to him full-blown from out of nowhere. “Far, far away.”
Sean chuckled. “I don’t think the penguins would appreciate Harry.”
“No, but I think I know somewhere he could go.” Christian quickly outlined his plan. “Twenty-four hour a day care and plenty to keep him occupied.”
“And out of our hair.” Sean agreed. “You sir, are a tricky bastard.”
“Why, thank you.” Christian could hear the smile in Sean’s tone and his own echoed it. “Coming as it does from a Master of Sinclair-manipulation, I take that as a compliment.”
“So you should. It’s brilliant. Too many more of these ‘notes’ and reminders and my com’s gonna explode, not to mention my brain!”
“I’ll make the calls and let you know.”
Christian rang off and leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head and his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. That’ll do nicely, he thought. Harry could recuperate in relative peace and he was sure to be back home before Orlando returned, so no problem there. Plus, it’d be fun. A lot of fun, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face!
Right! Back to work.
He glanced up one last time at the plaster-work horse. Thank you, he told it silently.
God, what a day! And it was only half over! He still had lunch to get through, plus another round of meetings in the afternoon. If this didn’t teach him not to stay up half the night worrying himself stupid about . . . Well, at least that was sorted.
He pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie as he sat down and went through the list of messages, mostly inconsequential, but a couple that he needed to make note of. He reached behind him into his jacket pocket and pulled out his com, switching it on ready to transfer and noting the red flashing light that meant he had a message.
No, scratch that. He had a lot of messages. Frowning, he began to go through them but, as he read, the lines on his brow faded and he began to smile, a laugh breaking free as he read the last couple. Leaning back in his seat, he found himself grinning at the ceiling like an idiot. So, Harry was feeling better was he? Making a nuisance of himself too, by all accounts.
He pressed a quick-dial on the com. “Sean? It’s Christian. You wanted me?”
“Oh thank bloody Christ!” The voice on the other end was full of relief. “You gotta help me out here, mate.”
“Harry.” Christian chuckled. “I know. I’ve got a couple myself. He wants to know why you’re not answering his pings anymore.”
Sean could be heard cursing under his breath. “ . . . driving me bleeding mental, Christian. And not just me, either. He’s pinging Dom, too. Dom says he’s pinging Elijah and . . . well, anyone else whose number he’s got.”
“I’d say he’s on the mend.”
“He’ll need further care if I get hold of the bugger.” Sean groused mildly, his affection apparent. “Have a bloody word with him, will you? That’s why I called; he’ll listen to you.”
“Sure. I can try.” He made a study of the plasterwork on the ceiling, eyes tracing the lines that looked a bit like a running horse if you tipped your head just the right way . . . “Umm, Sean? What happens when he gets released to the infirmary here?”
The snort that followed was an opinion in and of itself and Christian could almost see the expression on Sean’s face that usually accompanied the sound. “We batten down the hatches.” Sean said. “That, or accidentally stand on his com unit while wearing a pair of heavy military boots.”
“We must be able to do better than that.” Christian offered.
A thoughtful silence greeted his unspoken invitation. Then . . .
“What do you have in mind?”
“Convalescence.” Christian was quick off the mark, the idea coming to him full-blown from out of nowhere. “Far, far away.”
Sean chuckled. “I don’t think the penguins would appreciate Harry.”
“No, but I think I know somewhere he could go.” Christian quickly outlined his plan. “Twenty-four hour a day care and plenty to keep him occupied.”
“And out of our hair.” Sean agreed. “You sir, are a tricky bastard.”
“Why, thank you.” Christian could hear the smile in Sean’s tone and his own echoed it. “Coming as it does from a Master of Sinclair-manipulation, I take that as a compliment.”
“So you should. It’s brilliant. Too many more of these ‘notes’ and reminders and my com’s gonna explode, not to mention my brain!”
“I’ll make the calls and let you know.”
Christian rang off and leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head and his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. That’ll do nicely, he thought. Harry could recuperate in relative peace and he was sure to be back home before Orlando returned, so no problem there. Plus, it’d be fun. A lot of fun, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face!
Right! Back to work.
He glanced up one last time at the plaster-work horse. Thank you, he told it silently.
