The morning brief
655 Words
After the brief discussion with Aveline,Cade called for a meeting with the board.
The glass-walled conference room on the 39th floor of Langston Global pulsed with quiet urgency. Department heads shuffled papers and sipped espresso, voices low. Aveline slipped in just before Cade entered, crisp in her grey blouse, clipboard tucked close.
Cade stepped in without a word. The room fell still.
He set a slim folder on the table. “Morning. Let’s get started.”
Discussions opened on merger prospects, a follow-up from the gala. Cade spoke with his usual steel precision—methodical, emotionless—but he paused when a sharp voice interrupted from the doorway.
“Apologies for barging in.”
Heads turned.
Dorian Vexley, CEO of Vexley Dynamics, strolled in like he owned the skyline. Tailored navy suit, champagne charm, and a smirk sharp enough to slice glass.
“I believe I was promised five minutes,” he said, glancing toward Cade. “Unless Langston Global no longer honors its follow-ups?”
Cade’s jaw tightened. “You were scheduled for noon.”
Vexley shrugged. “Then consider this enthusiasm.”
He turned, eyes scanning the room, stopping briefly on Aveline.
“You again,” he said, a low murmur only she caught. “Miss Moore. Still unforgettable.”
Aveline’s spine straightened.
Cade’s voice cut in before she could reply. “Vexley. Outside. Now.”
There was a silent moment. Then the glass doors swung closed behind them.
The room exhaled.
---
Later, as the team filtered out, hushed whispers trailed behind.
Aveline stayed seated for a moment, processing everything. She’d been trained to handle pressure. But there was something about the way Vexley looked at her. Something about the way Cade reacted.
Like tension wasn’t just in the air… it was in the game.
And she was standing right in the Middle
Aveline thought she should report the situation and then she stepped out to a quiet place.
---
The mirrored elevator doors slid shut behind Aveline, sealing her into silence. Her reflection stared back at her — steady posture, emotionless face. Only her eyes betrayed a flicker of tension.
She didn’t reach for her phone until she hit the basement level — the one that looked like it was under renovation. It wasn’t.
She moved through the maintenance hallway, stopping by an innocuous electrical panel. A quiet blink of red light recognized her presence.
Aveline pressed her thumb to the seam of her clipboard and extracted a paper-thin comms device. She placed it in her ear.
“Report status: gala follow-up,” she said softly.
There was a faint click on the other end. Then: “Go ahead.”
“I was in the morning debrief. Target present. Minimal engagement. Maintaining cover.”
“Complications?”
A pause. “Unexpected guest: Dorian Vexley. CEO of Vexley Dynamics.”
The voice on the line shifted. “Was Cade aware he’d be showing up?”
“No. Vexley was... performative. Made a show of familiarity. Eye contact. Flirtation.”
“You?”
“I remained neutral. No slip. But Cade noticed.”
Another pause. “Interesting. We suspected Vexley’s interests went beyond corporate.”
Aveline exhaled quietly, steadying herself against the cool panel behind her.
“Target became visibly agitated. Pulled Vexley outside for private words.”
There was a pause.
“And how did that make you feel?”
She blinked. “I’m not required to answer that.”
A chuckle. “Of course not.”
Silence settled in again before the voice turned businesslike.
“Keep your distance from Vexley. Do not provoke. And watch Cade.”
“I always do.”
The line went dead.
Aveline removed the device and slid it back into her clipboard. By the time she returned to the main floor, she was once again just the assistant with perfect posture — invisible in plain sight.
But in her chest, her heartbeat betrayed the truth.
- Writer
