Page 17 of Miss Manage

Chapter Nine

GABRIEL

Ihad a headache. Not the kind a couple of Tylenol could fix but the kind that came from privately grinding your teeth all day.

My hotel room was small, which was typical of a city like London where space was at a premium. I didn’t mind the functional, modern, and utterly impersonal effect. There was a desk shoved against the wall, a queen-sized bed, and a window offering a sliver of skyline if you craned your neck.

I dropped my bag and stood there for a long beat, debating whether to collapse onto the bed or whether to do the thing I’d been cogitating since the merger: update my résumé, fire off emails to headhunters, and start lining up my next move.

If today had proved anything, it was that Charlotte Green wasn’t merely keeping the CEO seat warm; she was already owning it. People accepted her. Clients respected her. And as much as her whole rigor-and-kindness mantra baffled me, I could hardly deny it was working.

It annoyed me to admit it, but the truth was impossible to ignore. I’d seen this before. My father had always led the same way. Rougher around the edges, maybe, with more bark in his bite, but still, basically the same method as Charlotte. And I had to admit it was the respect he commanded because of how he treated people that made Chambers Technology thrive.

And that was what triggered me most. Seeing Charlotte in action made me remember the conversation which had led me to turn down the COO position at his company. My father’s words were still sharp over a year later: you don’t have the heart for leadership.

At the time, I’d laughed in his face, calling him stubborn, outdated, too proud to change. But tonight, for the first time, I experienced the sting of realizing he might have had a point.

Today I’d watched Charlotte hold a room, witnessed her put John in his place, seen the way William Laurent himself softened when speaking to her. And now I couldn’t escape the thought. Maybe heart really was the thing that set leaders apart. And maybe that was the one thing I’d never managed to grow.

I stayed perched on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair. The weight of the day coupled with jet lag was oppressive.

I needed to think about something else.

Samantha’s birthday party from Saturday came to mind, and the faintest smile tugged at my mouth. Thirteen. My little girl, suddenly a teenager, with moods and opinions I could barely keep up with. I’d spent days fumbling over what to give her. Tickets to a concert crossed my mind, but that felt impersonal. Sneakers were a fleeting idea too, until I realized that was about as lame as handing over cash like some clueless weekend dad.

In the end, I found something which felt like us in the form of a silver charm bracelet. One charm shaped like a Disney castle for all the weekends we used to spend there. Another of the Eiffel Tower for last summer’s trip to Paris. And a tiny starfish, because nothing lights her up the way the beach does.

The beauty was she could keep adding charms as we made new memories.

She’d smiled genuinely, and for the first time, I’d had a glimmer of hope we might be on the road to a better relationship. Now I dialed Samantha’s cell phone number, grateful I could call her directly these days instead of having to go through her mother.

“Hello.” Her voice sounded older, more self-assured, less like the thirteen-year-old she still was and more like the young woman she was becoming.

“Hi, kiddo.”

“Please don’t call me kiddo anymore, Dad.”

I smiled faintly. “Sorry. Force of habit. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“I’m in London, but I’ll be back Thursday. You ready for our weekend together?”

“Sure.”

One-word answers. Disinterest. I missed the little girl who used to chatter endlessly, who couldn’t wait to tell me about her day. “How’s school?”

“Good.”

My mom’s voice echoed in my head: keep talking until you find the thread she wants to pull on. “Do you have a favorite class so far?”

“Women’s studies. We’re studying history of the patriarchy.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised given her all-girls private school. But part of me wondered if she was pushing my buttons to see if I reacted. “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

“You ever work with female executives?”

The irony hit me square in the chest. “Matter of fact, my new boss is a very accomplished woman.”