Our Broken Pieces

Chapter 19

Mystic~

Instincts were real.

They were real, and when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you really shouldn't ignore that shit. Instincts could actually mean the difference between life and death in some situations.

So, when I'd gotten a calendar notification-first thing Monday morning-telling me that I had an impromptu meeting at four this afternoon with Lacey Stevens, my instincts had started firing all over the place. Lacey Stevens oversaw our floor and department, but I couldn't think of anything that 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, but I was also taking on anything that Reagan threw my way.

Nonetheless, I wasn't so naive as to believe that she'd be calling me in for employee recognition. I'd only been with CI for a couple of months, so there's no way that they'd be looking at me for any kind of promotion. Honestly, I'd been at a complete loss until Reagan came hissing into my cubicle.

"Did you open your big mouth?" she snapped lethally, but low enough that only I could hear her.

"What?" I snapped back, and 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. However, I still glanced around to make sure that 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?" I echoed.

This viper had nerve.

"You and I both know that I'm doing your grunt work and the projects you find boring, Reagan," I said, stating the facts. "Just because I'm using you to get experience doesn't mean that I don't know that you're using me, too. 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 that I feared that 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 that it was the snake comment that had gotten to her. Women as beautiful as Reagan weren't used to those kinds of adjectives. "If you cross me, you'll regret it, Mystic," she threatened. "And if you think CI will pick your side over mine, you are sorely mistaken."

I sat back down, dismissing her. "We'll see," I replied, my voice strong.

Even if all that were true, there's no way that I'd let Reagan know that I cared. Weakness was not something that I was about to show in front of this horrible woman; in front of anyone.

Reagan stormed off, and I quickly reopened the email that Lacey had sent. There weren't any other recipients on my email, which meant that Reagan had been lying. Still, I scanned the rest of my inbox to see if I'd been sent another one where I'd been copied, but I didn't find anything. There was no email, and that could only mean that someone had given Reagan a heads up about the nature of the meeting.

Well, hell.

The rest of the afternoon, I'd 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 that 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 that I was going to give off scared, timid, little rabbit vibes. If I had any hope of saving my job, then I had to prove that I was strong enough to fight for it. Besides, I'd known what I was doing when Reagan had started dumping her projects on me, so I really couldn't blame anyone else for the predicament that I was in now. Granted, I wasn't even sure if we were even in trouble. Who's to say that they weren't pairing us up for an upcoming project? It was possible.

At least, it'd 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. On autopilot, I took the second chair on the left side as one of the most gorgeous men that I'd ever set eyes on sat at the head of the conference table.

Trying not to stare, 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 also noticed that his brows seemed groomed, but something told me that this man did not pretty himself up. He looked like the kind of man that didn't give a shit about much.

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 that he was tall. He was definitely over six-foot, but I wasn't sure by how much. His suit jacket also draped over his broad shoulders like he was meant to always be wearing suits, and I could tell that 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 immediately 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 looking my way. "Mystic, this is Mr. Lorcan Cavanaugh, owner and CEO of Cavanaugh Industries." Her eyes darted towards Mr. Cavanaugh. "Mr. Cavanaugh, Ms. Mystic Anderson."

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Looked like I was getting fired today after all.

I watched as he ignored the introductions, then 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, then 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. However, 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 perfectly 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 that 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.