“Yes. A formal public announcement of your new, temporary role as manager of this agency.”
“Oh. Of course. Thank you!” Lizzie stepped forward and shook my hand again. Then she beamed her smile over at Devi, and it promptly dropped a notch.
I followed her gaze to Devi’s face. Devi put on a smile. It seemed genuine enough, but anyone could see the conflict in her eyes.
I maybe should’ve felt a little bad for her. Except that I really didn’t.
“Congratulations,” Devi said, and offered Lizzie her hand. They shook, hugged, and Devi avoided my eyes over Lizzie’s shoulder. Then Lizzie smiled at me again and headed out.
My eyes met Devi’s. Her smile was gone. She walked slowly to the door, shut it softly and turned to me.
I slipped my hands in my pockets, completely relaxed. Except that my heart was suddenly thumping at the mere prospect that she might be about to rip into me. And there was something else going on, down below, that I didn’t even want to acknowledge.
Weird. I’d never found fighting with a woman particularly enjoyable.
Why was this so enjoyable?
“May I ask you one question?” she said tightly. I got the sense of a pot lid dancing on top of a slowly boiling pot, about to blow.
“You may.”
“Why did you choose Lizzie?” Her eyes held mine in challenge. Daring me to tell the truth.
“I chose her,” I said evenly, “because she’s the best person for the job.”
“You just stood there and told me that I’m the top-performing agent at this agency.”
“Yes. But Ms. James is the only agent at this agency with a business degree. And she’s worked here for five years.”
“I’ve worked here for eleven,” she gritted out.
“And that is impressive. But in this case, not as impressive as a business degree.”
She shook her head slowly. “On paper, I’m sure Lizzie looks like a better choice than me. But I can promise you, no one knows how to run this agency better than I do.”
“I disagree.”
“And what do you base that on? High school? You just got here. You don’t know anything about me or the job I do here.” I could feel her heat level rising, one degree at a time, in a steady, rolling boil.
“What I know,” I said calmly, “is that a person who thought that some drunken agreement with Janelle Gorman over a bottle of wine actually meant something, in business, is in no way ready to run a business.”
Her jaw clenched so hard, I was surprised I didn’t hear teeth shatter.
“It was a business decision,” I said. “And it’s done.”
Devi sucked back a breath, like she was physically rewinding every ugly word she wanted to fire in my direction back into her brain. Then she turned on her heel, walked out, and shut the door—not softly—behind herself.
I fisted my hands and pressed them to the desk, leaning over it.
My heart was still thumping.
Shit.
She wasn’t ready. I knew she wasn’t ready. Maybe Lizzie James wasn’t either, but she was a better choice. The smart choice. It was just an interim position anyway.
I made the right decision.
So why did I feel a little guilty about it?