It hadn’t been until her mother had come out and handed me a letter, written to me by Mystic, that the truth of their words had vibrated in my head.
Mystic had left.
She had really gone, and no one was going to help me find her. They’d all been on her side, and I’d had no tools to fight for her with.
It had taken me two weeks of absolute emptiness before I had blocked her from ever contacting me again. I had also blocked Chance and Margot and had barely made it through the rest of the school year without killing someone. It hadn’t been until I let for college that I felt I could finally breathe again.
My father had never asked what was wrong. And when my mother did, I told her the truth. I had told her I was in love with Mystic and she had upped and left me. My mom had tried to see me through those dark days, but nothing had worked. She had finally let me handle it my way, and that was distancing myself from fucking everything and everyone.
And I never did read that fucking letter.
Chapter 19
Mystic~
Instincts were real.
They were real, and when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you shouldn’t ignore that shit. Instincts, literally, could mean the difference between life and death.
So, when I got a calendar pop-up, first thing Monday morning, telling me that I had an impromptu meeting at four this afternoon with Lacey Stevens, my instincts started firing all over the place. Lacey Stevens oversaw our floor and department, and I couldn’t think of anything she’d need to speak with me about. As a matter of fact, I was kicking ass if I did say so, myself. Not only was I on top of my workload, I was taking on anything Reagan threw at me.
I wasn’t so naive to believe she’d be calling me in for employee recognition, though. I’ve only been with CI for a couple of months; there’s no way they’d be looking at me for any kind of promotion. I was at a complete loss until Reagan came hissing into my cubicle.
“Did you open your big mouth?” she snapped lethally but low enough, so only I could hear her.
“What?” While I didn’t want to cause waves, I wasn’t a pushover.
“I’ve been called for a meeting at four with Lacey and you’re included on the email,” she hissed.
Had I missed that?
I stood up because I wasn’t going to let this woman intimidate me. I glanced around to make sure no one was paying us any attention before saying, “I’ve never even met Lacey,” I told her. “The only person I talk to, whenever I do get a chance to talk to someone, is Sadie. And I haven’t told her anything about doing your work.”
Reagan’s eyes widened at me calling her out, but she wasn’t going to cower. People like her never did. “No one forced you to help out,” she spat.
“Help out?” This viper had nerve. “You and I both know I’m doing your grunt work and the projects you find boring, Reagan,” I pointed out. “Just because I’m using you to get experience doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re using me, period. So, before you try to insult my intelligence any further, I suggest you take your guilty conscience back to your office and wait it out. You have no idea what that meeting is about. Neither do I.”
She looked so pissed, I feared she was going to pop a blood vessel. “Listen up, little girl, I’ve been here a lot longer than you have. Don’t think to start playing a game you can’t win.”
If I didn’t finish this up soon, someone was bound to catch wind of the animosity. “And don’t presume to know that I don’t know how to play the game, Reagan,” I shot back. “This isn’t my first job and you are not the first snake I’ve come across.”
Reagan gasped and I knew it was the snake comment. Women as beautiful looking as Reagan weren’t used to those kinds of adjectives. “If you cross me, you’ll regret it, Mystic. And if you think CI will pick your side over mine, you are sorely mistaken,” she threatened.
I sat back down, dismissing her. “We’ll see,” I replied, my voice strong. Even if all that were true, there’s no way I’d let Reagan know I cared. Weakness was not something I was about to show in front of this horrible woman.
In front of anyone.
She stormed off and I quickly reopened the email Lacey had sent. There weren’t any other recipients on my email which meant Reagan was lying. I scanned the rest of my emails to see if I was sent another one where I was copied, but I didn’t find anything. There was no email and that could only mean someone had given Reagan a heads up about the nature of the meeting.
Well, hell.
The rest of the afternoon, I had done my best to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as four o’clock came inching closer and closer. It wasn’t that I was worried I’d end up homeless or anything like that, but this job paid well, and I enjoyed it, Reagan aside. I didn’t want to have to look for another job. Especially, if I got fired for falsification or something equally unappealing.
Five minutes to four, Lacey Stevens and Reagan approached my cubicle as Lacey decided against pleasantries. “Mystic, if you and Reagan will follow me,” she instructed, no ‘please’ or anything.
I followed behind her and Reagan with my back straight and my head held high. There was no way I was going to give off scared, little rabbit vibes. If I had any hope of saving my job, I had to prove I was strong enough to fight for it. Besides, I knew what I was doing when Reagan had started dumping her projects on me. I really couldn’t blame anyone else for the predicament I was in now.
But, hell, I wasn’t even sure if we were even in trouble. Who’s to say they weren’t pairing us up for an upcoming project? It was possible.
At least, it had been until I stepped into a conference room that wasn’t empty. I moved on autopilot behind Lacey and Reagan as Lacey sat in the first right side chair, and Reagan next to her. I took the second left side chair as, hands down, one of the most gorgeous men I have ever set eyes on sat at the head of the conference table.
He looked like he was carved from stone as his grey eyes made direct contact with each one of us as we situated ourselves. He had hair as black as night and it made his eyes pop out like a swirling mist. I noticed his brows seemed groomed, but something told me this man did not pretty himself up. He looked like the kind of man who didn’t give a shit.
About anything.
He had a perfectly sculpted face that you only saw on movie stars like Matt Bomer or Henry Cavill. And, even from his seated position, you could tell he was tall. He was definitely over six-foot, but I wasn’t sure by how much. His suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders like he was meant to always be wearing suits, and I could tell, if he stood up, his entire suit would fit him to perfection. He screamed class, money, and power.
He also looked pissed as hell.
I wanted to weep with anxiety. This wasn’t good. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t a peon, and he wasn’t here because this was a good thing. Glancing quickly at Reagan confirmed it. She looked scared, and Lacey looked constipated.
Lacey addressed Reagan first, and then me. “Reagan, you’ve met Mr. Cavanaugh,” she clipped out before looked my way. “Mystic, this is Mr. Cavanaugh, owner and CEO of Cavanaugh Industries.” Her eyes darted towards Mr. Cavanaugh. “Mr. Cavanaugh, Ms. Mystic Anderson.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Looks like I was getting fired today after all.
I watched as he ignored the introductions and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his lap, casual as could be, but anything but. “Ms. Anderson, do you know why you’re here?”
I wanted to laugh. If that wasn’t a leading question, I didn’t know what was. Luckily, I wasn’t stupid. A bit reckless? Maybe. Stupid? No. “No, Sir, I don’t.” If Reagan wanted to throw me under the bus, so be it. But I wasn’t going to throw myself under the damn thing.
He looked over at Reagan. “Ms. Contreras, do you know why you’re here?”
I watched as Reagan smoothed her skirt with her hands-probably wiping away the guilt sweat-then place her arms perfectl
y over one another on the tabletop. “I’m not sure, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
Mr. Cavanaugh leaned forward, placing his arms across the top of the table in the very same manner as Reagan. “You’re not sure? Does that mean you might suspect why you’re here?”
Her pretty features started to contort in panic. “Uh, well, I mean....” She glanced over at me for some help, but the last thing I was going to do was help a scorpion sting me. “Uhm, well…no, Sir. I...actually, I don’t know why I’ve been called in here today-why we were.”
Lacey sat silent as Mr. Cavanaugh’s silver gaze danced back and forth between me and Reagan. “Well, Ms. Contreras, you’re here to explain to me why your projects have Ms. Anderson’s name on them. And, Ms. Anderson, you’re here to explain why your name is on Ms. Contreras’ projects.”
Oh, shit.
Chapter 20
Gage~
I knew Lorcan was a busy man, but I also knew I was one of his few exceptions.
While Stymic Financial Holdings was a money purse, Cavanaugh Industries was more diverse in what they did and represented. And when I was looking at the Darwin proposal, I had seen that Lawrence had included Cavanaugh Industries in the architecture phase of his proposal. I wanted to get Lorcan’s gut feeling about Lawrence Darwin.
I dialed my friend, and as always, he answered the phone. “Changed your mind about the party?”
“No,” I automatically replied.
Lorcan chuckled. “What do you want?”
“You got some spare time to discuss Lawrence Darwin?”
“Aaahhh, so he hit you up, too?” he replied, knowing where this was going.
“Yeah, and I gotta say, I have some reservations about all this.”
“I admit, I just briefly glanced at the thing,” he said. “The proposal appeared as if he wants all the profits, but only wants to put in the minimal amount of work. I threw it on the pile of other proposals that had the same scheme to them.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I got that same impression when I looked it over. Then I saw that it had CI as an architectural hopeful.”
“So, what do you got?” he asked, knowing I did the research if I was reaching out to him.
“I spoke with my research team and they said the battery is doable. However, they’re dubious about the validity of the research presented in the proposal,” I answered. “The proposal is lazy and sloppy, but if there’s a chance it could come to fruition and work, well…I’m interested.”
“Be that as it may, do you really want to work with the fool?” Lorcan asked in true Lorcan fashion. “He sounds lazy and entitled.”
“I’m sure he is,” I agreed. “But I wouldn’t be the one working with him. That’s the luxury of owning your own company. I can assign some other poor soul to be his point of contact.”
Lorcan let out a dark chuckle. “Speaking of poor souls,” he joked. “This afternoon I have a meeting with two of my employees to remind them that I see all, and I know all. Sort of like The Wizard of Oz.”
If I had a heart, I’d feel sorry for the two unfortunate souls who tried to get over on Lorcan Cavanaugh. But I didn’t have a heart, so I didn’t feel sorry for them. Plus, people had to be accountable for their actions. Anyone thinking they were smart enough to get over on Lorcan must not have had a clue what type of man they were working for.
“Ouch,” I chuckled.
“Yeah,” he replied, a devious smile in that one word. “Reagan Contreras was pawning her work off on a new employee and not giving her any credit for it.”
I’ve met Reagan Contreras, and whatever intelligence I gave her credit for, was now officially revoked. “Come on,” I groaned. “Is she really that stupid to think she could get away with something like that?”
“Evidently,” he replied.
“What are you going to do?” I knew what I’d do if it were me. I’d fire both of them, no questions asked.
“After I put the fear of God into them, I’m going to demote Reagan to teach her not to fuck with me ever again,” he bit out, telling me just how irritated he was over the rouse.
Like me, Lorcan didn’t have time for petty bullshit. The fact that he had to take time out of his day to reprimand an employee, who’s been with him long enough to know better, was enough to make his inner Satan come out.
“How’d you find out?”
“I was going over my weekly security reports, and I noticed Ms. Anderson’s employee badge being swiped way passed business hours on a continuous basis,” he answered, causing my heart to skip in my chest at the mention of his Ms. Anderson. I knew there were a million Ms. Andersons in the world, but, fuck, if the weight hitting my chest wasn’t real. “I ended up researching her floor manager, and then the senior account executives, and then it dawned on me why, all of the sudden, Ms. Contreras’ projects were miraculously of better quality. I went over the project presentations and noticed Ms. Anderson’s name on all the research.”
A part of me-the part that was still a fucking pussy with it came to Mystic Anderson-wanted to ask Lorcan for Ms. Anderson’s first name, but my pride grabbed me by the balls and reminded me that I was still, indeed, a man.
And another part of me didn’t want to know because that part of me didn’t want to face the realistic fact that Mystic could very well no longer be an Anderson. It’s been ten years, after all.
“So, what are you going to do with the gifted Ms. Anderson, then?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “She’s new, and so I needed to find out just how much of a culprit she was in all this. It’s Ms. Contreras who I’m pissed at most. Not to mention Lacey. She should have known this shit was happening on her watch.” Lacey Stevens was one of Lorcan’s department floor managers, and unfortunately for her, Lorcan didn’t suffer fool or their foolish mistakes gladly.
I decided to get back to the topic at hand. As much as I was sure Lorcan’s torturous ways would be entertaining, I was tired of hearing him say Ms. Anderson. “So, how long do you think you’ll need to rake them over the coals?”
Lorcan let out a deep breath. “Not long,” he replied. “Maybe a half hour, or so. It’s not like I’m going to be there to hear their side of the story. I’ll mostly be meeting with them to let Ms. Contreras know she’s been demoted and to not fuck with me or mine again. Next time she’ll be out on her ass.”
“Then I’ll drop by around four-thirty, or so,” I told him. “If you have nothing after five, we can go get some drinks and pussy, if it’s on the menu.”
Lorcan let out a dark laugh. “Pussy’s always on the menu, Gage,” he chuckled. “Even if you are an ugly bastard, your wallet more than makes up for it.”
“Asshole.” But he wasn’t wrong. One thing I’ve learned after making my first million? Women could be bought. Not all of them, mind you, but a good majority of them could be. “I’ll see you later.” I hung up before he could talk anymore shit.
It wasn’t even that I was judging women who went for the wallet. Everyone had their own sense of survival, and sometimes that meant sleeping with a guy for money. Even if it ended up in marriage, you still had gone after the guy for the commas in his bank account and not his personality.
My issue was that, even if I could find a woman who would let me unleash my demons for the right price, was that I didn’t want manufactured devastation.
I didn’t want a woman screaming my name in pain because I was paying her to do it. I didn’t want a woman pretending to cum with my hand wrapped around her throat. I didn’t want a woman begging me to bite the fuck out of her, but then collapsing in real tears because she was in more pain than she was in pleasure.
I wanted the real deal.
I wanted what Mystic Anderson had done for me.
I wanted someone who soaked my cock with her juices because she genuinely got off on the pain that was being inflicted upon her. I wanted someone who broke my skin because she’d rather embrace the pain than ask me to stop. I wanted to be able shoot my load deep insid
e a pussy, all the while, ignoring the feminine cries of the word no.
Everything I craved was a lawsuit waiting to happen, whether it be criminal or civil, and that wasn’t something I was willing to risk. Besides, the last time I gave into the beasts that tormented me, that fucking girl broke something pivotal inside me. The fuck if I would ever go through that shit again.
I didn’t kid myself into believing I’d ever find another Mystic, so random pussy, missionary, and all married-like, was what I satisfied myself with these days.
Even though I was never, ever truly satisfied.
Chapter 21
Mystic~
While Reagan’s eyes widened in panic, I did my best to keep my face absolutely stoic. I prayed I gave nothing away. I pretended I was at police headquarters, being interrogated for murder. My face wasn’t going to give anything away, and my mouth was going to stay firmly shut.
This. Was. Not. Good.
The room was silent. Me, because I wasn’t going to tell on myself. Reagan…well, I didn’t know why she clammed up. She was the one who’s met Mr. Cavanaugh before. Shouldn’t their interaction be more…comfortable?
I waited for someone to crack first because it wasn’t going to be me.
Five...four...three...two…
“Mr. Cavanaugh, uhm...Ms. Anderson approached me and...uh, expressed interest in helping me with some low-level accounts, and-”
His reaction wasn’t a positive one. “Ms. Contreras, Cavanaugh Industries doesn’t have low-level accounts,” he snapped, interrupting her. “Every client we have is held at the highest regard whether they bring in a billion dollars or a nickel. Am I making myself clear?”
Reagan started nodding her head. “Of...of course. I’m sorry, Mr.-”
Our Broken Pieces (The Pieces Series Book 1) Page 9