Sentient

Sentient: Chapter Six

I blink away and tighten his tie. “All done.”

Mr. Cavanaugh croaks a little and repositions the tie a bit. “Thanks.”

I walk a good two meters away from him and offer him the document bag. “Here are the files, Sir. Today’s schedule is there too.” 

He accepts and places them on the suede sofa chair. “Oh right! I’ve been informed about the Department Retreat next month.”

I nod and gesture at the document bag. “Yes, I included a packet in there regarding that.” 

Suddenly, the doors open and a tall lady with blonde hair enters, carrying a grey storage box with a marker label “D.C” with a little heart at the bottom.

“Ah!” Mr. Cavanaugh exclaims. “Jasmine, just the woman I was looking for.” 

The tall blonde, Jasmine, blushes instantly but as soon as she spots me, her eyes turn into daggers. Icy-cold daggers that run straight through my heart and into my spine. 

She strongly forces the box into my hand along with a key that looks like the one I have—the key to this place. Her eyes aren’t leaving mine and immediately, the tiny hairs on my neck stand up. 

“Charlotte, this is Jasmine.” Mr. Cavanaugh introduces, “Jasmine, this is Charlotte, my assistant.” 

I offer my hand to Jasmine and smile which she doesn’t reciprocate. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Jasmine.” I say. 

She heaves in a heavy breath and lets it out just as heavily. “Wish I could say the same to you.” 

There’s no denying of the hostility in her eyes and she’s not even hiding it from Mr. Cavanaugh. What did I do to her?

“Thank you, Jasmine.” Mr. Cavanaugh breaks the tension between us. “Darius will contact you regarding your new post. I’ll see you around.” 

Jasmine leaves us reluctantly, with more than three backward glances pointing in my direction, her five inch heels piercing through the vast silence of the room.

“I apologize for that,” Mr. Cavanaugh says, “Jasmine was my assistant until recently. She didn’t take her transfer lightly due to some sentiments she has for me. The heart on the box proves that.” 

Oh. Well. That explains it. I mean, that’s a real bummer. I couldn’t even begin to imagine not seeing his face everyday now that I’ve witnessed its full glory. 

“Why didn’t you take her with you?” I ask. 

And say goodbye to your job, stupid? Geez. What am I thinking? 

He raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “Would you rather I call her back here and have her trade places with you?”

I purse my lips and shake my head, my eyes widening in horror. 

He grins and explains, “I needed someone to help me get the lay of the land. You’ve been the CEO’s assistant for almost two years, I figured you’re my best shot at fully apprehending this department's vision. From what I’ve heard and read, you’re the most competent one in the team.”

I chuckle sarcastically. “I doubt that’s true, sir. We’re surrounded by geniuses in the office.” 

Last night before I went to bed, I did a little research. Before coming back here, he was based overseas to handle international affairs together with the so-called Prodigal Son, Damon Linus-Clyde—the other half of the Linus-Clyde & Cavanaugh Conglomerate, the more dominant half. But apparently, Mr. Cavanaugh’s the more involved one than Damon. He’s believed to have disappeared after his parents died in a tragic accident and his cousin Rance took over for him. She’s the one I met at the company gala last year. 

Mr. Cavanaugh’s father was best friends with Damon’s mom and dad, hence they built this company under their names and never separated, even after their death. His father passed away too, taken by cancer when he was in high school. There was just his mom, Linda, who currently resides in Hartford. 

“We could do some breakfast.” Mr. Cavanaugh pulls me out of my reverie. “Do we have anything scheduled for this morning?”

I quickly grab my copy of today’s timetable in my bag and offer it to him, which he accepts immediately. Good thing I’m always prepared with two extra copies of the day’s schedule. He can use his copy later in the day. And besides, I’ve memorized all our engagements for today. 

“I cleared your schedule for this morning and moved the meetings down to the afternoon.” I tell him. “I figured since you wanted to run through the files from yesterday, you needed some time.”

“What’s in that bag?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks, pointing at the Framtung bag by my feet. “Did you pack your lunch?”

I bite my lip. “Um… this is actually for you, sir.” 

Mr. Cavanaugh pockets his hands and bobs his head to the side. “You made me breakfast and you didn’t lead with that?”

My tongue folds into my throat. I don’t know what to say. 

He leads me into the kitchen and opens a cupboard. 

I quickly run up to him and protest, “I’d be happy to do that, sir.”

Reluctantly, he hands me the plates he fetched from the grey glass cabinetry and points me toward the direction of the utensils. 

“Like I said: most competent one in the team.” He mutters. 

I purse my lips again, “I’m just serving breakfast, sir. I’m not entering an algorithm into the product to make it anticipate your every need.”

Mr. Cavanaugh laughs. “You know, Jasmine never made me breakfast.” 

I begin unpacking the contents of the bag onto the counter and transferring them onto the plate. The soup goes into two separate bowls while the turkey sandwiches onto grey ceramic plates. 

“Actually, that’s not true.” He mumbles, “She’s never made me any edible breakfast before. She’s a terrible cook!”

I laugh briefly and ask, “Do you have a microwave, sir?”

He points at one of the grey glass cabinetry on the left side of the kitchen sink and I push it open, revealing the inside of a refrigerator. 

“No, other side.” He directs and I follow. 

I put the chicken noodle soup in the microwave for two minutes and served it together with the sandwich. 

“Is there anything you can’t do, Ms. Edwards?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks as I sit in front of him. 

Take my eyes off of you, apparently. 

He starts digging on the sandwich, which he has a very positive reaction to, so I start digging on my own as well, taking little bites. I’m not about to unleash my full-eating-beast mode in front of my handsome boss. There are things better left to the imagination. 

“The investors meeting is at 2pm and you need to review the new contract from Legal before that since we need to have them sign those. I already reviewed it for you and penned my thoughts on some of the clauses based on what’s favorable for both parties.” I explained as we sat opposite each other on the table. “Of course, considering the past year’s performance and affairs.” 

Mr. Cavanaugh chews gently as he takes in everything that I’m saying. 

“Now, I get why Alan was more concerned about losing you than his job.”

I’m about to take a bite of my sandwich but I stop in my tracks, putting the sandwich back onto the plate. “Lose his job? I thought you said Mr. Sandmoore was just transferred to another branch?”

Mr. Cavanaugh clears his throat and swallows his mouthful of the turkey sandwich. “Yes, he was. But then of course he’s no longer the CEO there.”

What? He’s been demoted? He demoted Mr. Sandmoore just so he can claim the CEO position? That man had worked long hours for years—decades even and he was just demoted? To some far-away, God-knows-where branch?

Suddenly, Mr. Cavanaugh’s phone rings and his face crumples tenfold as soon as he sees the caller ID on the screen. The same expression from the coffee shop yesterday came back, the one when he gets a text message. And then it hit me...

He’s in pain.