On My Knees - J. Kenner Page 0,43
because I want to start exchanging Christmas cards, and certainly not because I want any special consideration on this project or any other. My work stands on its own, or it doesn’t stand at all.”
For a moment Damien says nothing, but I think it is respect that I see on his face. Then he nods—just one simple incline of his head. “Go on.”
“This is a unique, innovative project. I’ll admit I didn’t want to be a part of it at first, but I’m invested now. I lost out on the deal in Atlanta because of you, Stark. I’m not losing Cortez, too. Not without a fight.”
I press my lips tight together. I know that Jackson blames Damien for the Brighton Consortium deal in Atlanta falling apart because Damien swept in and bought up key parcels of land. But Damien has told me that Jackson doesn’t have all the information, and that the deal was badly run. According to Damien, if he hadn’t stepped in, then Jackson and everyone else involved, including my old boss Reggie Gale, would have found themselves embroiled in a huge mess.
I’m not entirely sure what “a huge mess” means, but my fear is that there was some sort of criminal real estate scheme going on, and I intend to ask Reggie the next time we meet for lunch. But I’ve told none of this to Jackson. I didn’t see the point until I knew what to tell him. Now, of course, I’m wishing I’d said something. And, honestly, I expect Damien to clear the air.
Damien, however, says nothing, and during his silence, Jackson glances at me. His gaze lingers for less than a second, and yet even in that brief span of time I see the heat on his face. The need in his eyes.
“I walked away once before from something that was important to me.” He doesn’t look at me again, and yet I know without the slightest doubt that he is talking about me. “That was a mistake. I should have stayed. I should have fought.” He cocks his head. “I’ve learned my lesson, Stark. You want me gone, I’ll go. But I’m not leaving until I’ve done my damnedest to convince you to let me stay.”
I realize I am holding my breath, and I try to fill my lungs without gasping. So far I’ve managed to fade into the seat cushion, but now Damien turns to face me, his expression entirely unreadable. I expect him to ask me to leave. Instead, he levers himself out of his chair and crosses to his window. He stands there for a moment, looking out at the world like a monarch surveying his kingdom.
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