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 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 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