Page 37 of Miss Manage

My gut didn’t often offer up false alarms, but I chose to hide my skepticism that Gabriel could turn him around. “Glad to hear it.”

After our stand-up and Gabriel’s departure, I was afforded ten minutes to breathe, but sitting alone at my desk would only invite nerves regarding the impending interview.

Better to keep moving. I gathered my notes and walked straight for the conference room, my head high. The interview loomed over the day like a dark cloud, but for now I’d earned the right to stand in this building, at the head of the table.

The low hum of conversation drifted into the hall, the kind of low-voiced chatter always preceding big meetings. I pushed the door open, scanning the clusters of people already inside. The words hit me, quiet, but sharp enough to slice through the noise.

“So what if she saved some random man’s life. Gabe is going to nail his interview today and take the reins.”

My gaze cut to the source. John Elliott, slouched in his chair like a sulking teenager, arms folded, lips curling with disdain.

Any shred of confidence I’d had in Gabriel’s ability to successfully integrate John evaporated in a moment. It also served as a painful reminder of how Gabriel must be keeping his team up to date, letting them know the date and time of his interview.

They all were no doubt biding their time until he was in charge. The room fell into silence as John realized I was standing there. His eyes went wide, and his face flushed crimson.

I didn’t have the energy to retort. What was the point? Especially when he could very well be right. Gabriel could in fact be taking the reins.

Speak of the devil. Gabriel walked in, his gaze ping-ponging between me and John. “What’s going on?”

I smoothed my expression into something tight and unreadable. The last thing I wanted was for him to play savior again. Once was enough. And we were now even.

“Nothing,” I replied lightly, refusing to give energy to any comment from John. “Shall we get started?”

Gabriel’s gaze lingered, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his expression. But he said nothing, only slid into his seat, watching, and weighing, like a man who didn’t miss much.

And I reminded myself: this was exactly why I couldn’t afford distractions.