I want to look at Jackson, but I also don’t want to move. Right now, I am cautiously optimistic, and I’m afraid that even breathing wrong will shift the balance. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. And so I stay as I am, looking forward, several files still clutched in my lap.
After what feels like hours but is in fact less than a minute, Damien returns. He takes the Traynor and Monro materials from the coffee table, then hands them to Jackson. “We’ve identified possible replacements. All exceptional architects. All without baggage.”
“No one is without baggage,” Jackson says, and I am relieved to see the corner of Damien’s mouth twitch just slightly.
“I’ll concede that point to you, Steele,” Damien says. “But I still want an answer. Why you and not them?”
“I’m better.” Jackson is looking directly at Damien, and his gaze never wavers.
“You’re very confident.”
“I am,” Jackson agrees. “I’m also very capable.”
Once again, Damien looks at me. “Ms. Brooks seems to think you’re the choice for the job, too.”
“She’s a very smart woman.”
“Yes,” Damien agrees. “She is.”
He goes to the bar, and returns with a single glass of scotch. He hands it to Jackson, then takes his own from the coffee table and raises it in a toast. “All right, Steele,” he says. “You’re in. Don’t make me regret it.”
Damien keeps me in his office after Jackson departs. We discuss resort management and the need to start recruiting and training top-level staff. We bounce ideas about advertising and promotion. We talk about recreation and whether we should keep dive instructors and a tennis pro on the full-time staff.
All stuff that has to be addressed, of course, but none of it is time sensitive, and I honestly can’t decide if he’s keeping me in his office out of spite or in order to maintain a sense of normalcy.
Or, possibly, he simply wants to clear stuff off his to-do list.
“All right,” he says after the longest forty-five minutes of my life. “I guess that’s it for the day. Who’s on my desk tomorrow?”
“Rachel.” I stand and gather my things. “But I’ll be covering it on Monday.”
“Good.” He meets my eyes. “She’s doing a fine job, Syl, but she’s not you. Then again, I suppose I’ll have to get used to that. I imagine I’ll be losing you to twenty-seven soon enough.”
“Will you?” I can’t keep the spark of interest out of my voice.
He leans casually against his desk. “I’ll be honest. I wouldn’t have given you the project manager position if I didn’t believe that you could handle it. But handling and excelling aren’t the same thing.”
“Oh.” I start to say thank you, but hold my tongue. Just to make certain I know where he’s going with this.
“If you want to excel at something, you can’t let anything or anyone stand in your way.” He nods toward the files I now hold in my hands. “You stood up for what you wanted today. That showed balls.”
“With all due respect, if you’d wanted to block me, there’s not a lot I could have done about it.” I glance at him and smile wryly. “What with you owning the company and all.”
“Touché, Ms. Brooks. I’ll rephrase. You endeavored not to let anyone stand in your way.”
I cock my head, thinking about that. “Is that why you let Jackson back on? Because he did the same thing?”
“That’s part of it.” The admission surprises me.
“And the rest?”
“Because he’s the best damn architect working.” He takes one more sip of his scotch. “I guess talent runs in the family,” he adds, and I bark out a laugh.
I swallow the sound soon enough. “Are you going to go public? You having a half-brother, I mean?”
He says nothing for a moment, and I wish I could take back the question. Then he sighs and swallows the whiskey that’s left in the glass. “Honestly? I don’t see that I have a choice. But I’d appreciate you asking Jackson to keep it quiet for the time being. I’d like to have some input from the PR team. For that matter, I’d like to get Evelyn’s advice.”