Page 41 of Handsome Devil
What I’d done here had nothing to do with appearances. It had nothing to do with the recent scandal or kissing anyone’s ass. Which was maybe why it felt good.
Yeah, so, I’d fired someone and it felt good.
I was that asshole.
But I was doing my job.
I glanced at the time. I should’ve been out of here a few minutes ago, at least. I’d be out of the office for most of the day, in meetings. Other than firing a shitty manager, and the fact that my handler left me the fuck alone when I was in the office, there’d been nothing enjoyable about being in this gray little office, dealing with any of this shit.
So why was I lingering?
And why was the thought of not getting to see Devi again, while her dark eyes sparked at me and she tried to pick a fight with me… mildly disappointing?
Maybe it was just refreshing to have someone pissed off at me over something other than the sex tape?
Yeah. That was it.
I clicked on the email she’d sent me.
Dane,
You will have the information you requested from me by the end of the day.
Devi
That was it.
Was she giving up?
Was she pissed?
I had no idea. Weird, that it also disappointed me if she was actually giving up.
Why did Iwanther to fight with me?
I seem to recall you had a temper in high school.
And why did I have to bringthatup?
Those words could only remind Devi of that final time we saw each other. The night of our senior grad. When she lost her temper—on me—and slapped me in the face. It stung, much more than the fucking slap. But the next day, I was on a private jet back to Toronto. She was gone from my life. It didn’t matter.
And here I was throwing her actions back at her, like a slighted teenager.
Now she’d probably think that was all this was about. Some childish power struggle.
But fuck that.
This was business.
Since she hadn’t yet sent me the summary of each staff member’s position and duties that I’d asked for, I dug into Janelle’s employee files. I’d looked through them already, briefly. I scanned through the various agents, pulling up their resumes.
One stood out.
I picked up the phone and buzzed reception. “Have Ms. James come see me, immediately.”
“Uh, sure,” the receptionist said. “She’s just getting back from a meeting.”
“Great.” I hung up. I drummed my fingers on the desktop, mentally composing a reply email to Devi. There was no reason to email her again. Except that I wanted to.
