Sentient

Sentient: Chapter Fourteen

“You have a New Kids on the Block poster?” 

My guts crample together. I can’t believe my boss, the owner of the billion-dollar company I work in, is in my childhood bedroom. 

“I never got to bring that one down.” I reply. 

Mr. Cavanaugh pockets his hands and looks around. “Till what age did you live here?”

I sigh and reply, “Twenty three. I was gone for college but my mom insisted that I live here after that, so I did while I was working in the restaurant.” 

“So how did you do it?”

I shake my head, not having an idea what he’s talking about. 

“How did you leave?” He repeats his question earlier. “Away from all the comfort of your family and all this and ventured out into the real world?”

“There’s nothing comforting about my family.” I quickly blurt out. 

I chuckle a little as I look at the little frog alarm clock that’s sitting on my drawer. Mr. Cavanaugh grins at me, waiting for an answer. 

“I just got up and left, I guess.” I tell him, “It was on my birthday, actually and every time there’s a birthday in our family, he or she gets one wish that everyone must comply with. I asked for freedom and if I could go to New York and the looks on their faces were priceless. I guess I knew that I hurt their feelings, but I didn’t care at the time. I just felt like I needed to be honest to myself and be free or I’d die of suffocation soon. Eventually, they forgave me and we got reunited but I barely visited. I love my life in New York and I’m kind of proud of how things turned out.” 

Mr. Cavanaugh takes in everything I’m telling him with complete understanding. His eyes tell me they’re seeing things through my perspective and I could tell he’s impressed. 

“You have a lot to be proud of, Charlotte.” He says, “And I’m sure your family is too. Regardless of how it happened.” 

I stare into his blue eyes and eventually, find myself losing into them—falling into the abyss of his azure gaze. I don’t think I have ever seen such blue eyes in my entire life. The pain that I’ve seen before is now gone and all I can see is pure honesty. 

I clear my throat and break eye contact, “Would you like something to drink, sir? The fireplace is the best part of the house and it’s even more perfect with a drink. It gets a little chilly here at night even though it’s summer. Being in the middle of the woods and all.”

Mr. Cavanaugh follows me downstairs. As I pour ourselves two glasses of whisky, I notice that his suit jacket is gone and he’s only wearing his maroon dress shirt that fits him perfectly, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I can’t help but think how hot he really is. 

I hand him one glass and usher him to the living room, sitting on the sofa. He sits by me, terrifyingly close and I scooch away a little, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I’m not gonna bite, Charlotte.” He says teasingly. 

I smile at him. “Better safe than sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh.” 

He grins at me and takes a swig off of his drink. “I saw you giving Darius something earlier.”

“Oh, that’s just something to thank him for today.” I carefully explain, “And thank you too for lending him to me. He was a lot of help.” 

“And what do you have to give me?” He asks, his eyes turning serious. 

I chuckle. “I’m sorry, sir, but I just have to ask, and with all due respect of course… Are you really this flirty?”

He smiles and takes a swig of his drink. “I’m just being honest, Charlotte. Another thing you need to know about me is that I always say what’s on my mind.” 

I take another of mine as well and starts to feel the haze of the alcohol mixing in me. Eight glasses of champagne earlier and now whisky—not a very good idea. And yet, I can’t seem to stop drinking. 

“Okay, Sir.” I tell him, “This has been unfair. You’ve been asking me personal matters since you arrived at the party and you haven’t been returning the favor, despite what you told me about how we should get to know each other better.”

Mr. Cavanaugh chuckles, “What do you wanna know?”

I take a deep breath before speaking, “Since you’re so interested in my love life, I shall return the curiosity: do you have a girlfriend? Someone I need to send flowers to on Valentine's day, or schedule your anniversary dinner with?” 

He purses his lips before downing his drink. “You don’t have to worry about that, Charlotte.” 

I nod and pause, taking my time before asking my next question. “Do you prefer… men?” 

Seriously, Charlotte? Did you just ask your boss if he was gay? 

He looks at me challengingly before speaking, “Do you want to test that theory?”

I raise my hand. “Nope, I’m good.”

He grins and gets back to his drink. 

I take this chance to ask again, “So no current girlfriend. Was there ever a…”

I couldn’t finish my question—maybe it’s the inappropriateness of it that I couldn’t say it or maybe… maybe because I don’t want to see the pain in his eyes again. But even if I didn’t finish it, he fully understands my question. 

He switches his gaze into the fireplace and lets the fire dance before his eyes. It takes him a couple of minutes to answer, but when he does, I feel the pain in his words. “One.”

I blink at him. So the rumors are true. And my hunch is correct. Somewhere out there, there is a woman that took the great casanova down to his knees. That pain in his eyes—whoever she is—she’s the reason behind it.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice gentle. I need to tread lightly. The boundary between asking your boss appropriate personal questions and inappropriate ones provides a very thin line and I don’t ever want to step on it. Not now that he’s starting to open up. 

“I wasn’t the prince charming in her fairytale.” He replies, looking at me with intent eyes. 

“Do you still love her?” I ask carefully.

 “You wanna know a secret?” He asks. 

I nod and wait for his reply. 

He smiles gently, the kind only one corner of his lips lifts up and says, “Funnily enough, I stop thinking about her whenever I’m with you.” 

I have no idea what to say. Or even what to follow-up my question. And I thank the heavens that right there and then, the front door opens and my Mom and Dad trudges in. 

I give Mr. Cavanaugh some pajamas from Keno’s room—a grey shirt and striped pants. Keno isn’t as tall as Mr. Cavanaugh so the pants fall a little short on him. 

As Mr. Cavanaugh is stepping out of the bathroom, he witnesses me locking the door in my room. I quickly put my index finger over my lips to gesture to him to be quiet and then tiptoe to my bed.

“What’s the matter?” He asks me as he dries his hair, which was even shaggier and wet, covering his forehead. 

I whisper my reply, “Patty might come in later and check on us. She doesn’t know how to knock so it’s best if she finds the door locked.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Mr. Cavanaugh’s lips as he replies, “Why? It’s not as if we’ll be doing anything.”

I look at him flatly. “It’s just better like this. If she sees us sleeping on the bed together, she’s gonna take pictures. I don’t want that happening.”

“Now, who’s having dirty thoughts?” He grins as he hangs the towel on the rack by the door. “As much as I’d love to, Charlotte, I’m not sleeping on the bed with you. I’ll be fine on the floor.”

I look at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m having a hard time picturing you sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m not going to invade your personal space by sleeping with you on this bed and certainly not in a million years I’d let you sleep on the floor, so no more arguing.” He says adamantly.

Oh wow. How could he be so naturally gallant?

With a little swarm of butterflies running about in my stomach, I fetch some fresh bedding from the closet and help set it up for him on the left side of my bed.

“Sorry, I only got these pink, floral ones.” I say as I climb my bed. “It’s a gift from Patty so, I can’t throw it away or donate it to Goodwill. She’ll find out.”

He smiles and jokes, “Definitely suits my tastes.” 

I chuckle lightly and turn off the lamp. “Goodnight, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“Goodnight, Charlotte.” He responds, his deep, husky voice reverberating through the dark and hollow silence of my room. 

I let a small pause to make sure he’s already settled into his make-shift bed before speaking again, “Thank you for today.”

This time, I get no response but I sense that he lets out a smile. Thinking back about today makes me slightly giddy. The fact that he assigned Darius to help me for today, and him showing up so that I wouldn’t lose face in front of my family really stirs something in me. 

But this is new territory for me. And a very dangerous one at that. I can’t have these giddy feelings for my boss. And he’s not some ordinary boss, he’s the owner of the company I work in for God’s sake. It’s inappropriate, no matter how flirty he gets. It’s normal for him, being the famous casanova and all. It probably means nothing to him—just pure casual talk. I should be very careful from now on. Even if it means, I become extra professional with him. 

Yeah that’d be easy considering you’ll be spending the entire day tomorrow with him posing as your boyfriend.