Company Ink by E.L. Lewis

s i x t e e n

Attempting to shake off my current shitty demeanor, I take a few minutes to reply to some emails. Just after 8 am, the catering company calls and tells me they've arrived. I guide them to the boardroom and begin organizing the spread of breakfast foods and beverages. I don't know why I was worried I'd fuck this up. Nancy's notes on the Wagner team were short, she just listed the name of the catering company and the food to order.

As I'm setting up the notepads, pens, and glasses of water,a light knock on the boardroom door forces me to turn my head.

"How's everything going in here, Cassandra?" Blake asks, scanning the room carefully while making his way to the coffee urn. "Elliot Wagner and his team are on their way up from the parkade."

"I think we're good to go!" I exclaim, straightening out one of the notepads to make sure it aligns with the wooden pattern on the table. "I queued up your PowerPoint as well, but I don't know how to connect the pointy thing. It's not working."

Blake pours himself a cup of coffee and splashes in a tiny bit of cream before facing me, his eyes narrowed and glistening.

"The pointy thing?" he asks slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like the remote with the little laser beam?" I swing my hand around mimicking the action. "What are they called?"

"A slide advancer," he chuckles, stirring his beverage and bringing it up to his mouth. As soon as he takes a sip, his eyes widen to a terrifyingly large size. Oh no. "Cassandra..."

"Yeah...?" I cringe. Oh my God. What did I do? Is the coffee cold? Is it burned? "What's wrong?"

Blake grips the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. Dramatic much? "What kind of coffee is this?"

"Uh—the regular kind?" Be more specific, woman! "I think it's a medium roast? Why? What's the matter? Is it bad? I'd try some but I don't really drink coffee." My heart is already racing right now from the caffeine and building nerves.

"I meant the brand Cassandra! What brand is this?" he asks in a strained tone.

I scramble to retrieve my cell phone from my pocket. Pulling up the catering website, I scroll to beverages. "Um...It's Seattle's Best," I read, wondering what the fuck is causing such a distraught reaction.

Blake takes a deep breath and marches towards me in three purposeful and menacing strides. Oh, dear God. What did I do? "Did I not tell you to read Nancy's notes carefully?"

"I did!" I insist. "I followed everything to the T. I promise. I can forward you, her list. I don't understand the problem. What's wrong with Seattle's Best? It's the best, right?" I try to force a smile and add, in a whisper, "It's in the name."

"You were supposed to get Coastal Beans, Cassandra. We need to serve Coastal Beans."

"Why is the brand so important? It's just coffee."

Blake sighs, clearly irritated by my lack of understanding. "Coastal Beans is a subsidiary of Wagner Corp, Cassandra. And now we're going to be serving them their competitor's coffee? That is..." Blake looks around the room frazzled. "That is unacceptable!"

Oh my God, he's insane. "Okay, I get where you're coming from and yes, maybe that's a little unorthodox but uh—do you honestly think they'll be able to tell?"

Blake presses his lips into a thin line. "I could tell."

"Maybe their taste buds aren't as developed as yours?" I offer in an overly panicky tone.

"You're just pulling at straws at this point—" Blake begins to say but a deep baritone voice booming from the front door interrupts him.

"Mr. Pearson, good morning."

Blake takes a deep breath, and his tightened features melt into a welcoming and bright smile. "Mr. Wagner." He shakes his hand. "Please come in. There are pastries and coffee on the table," he says, tossing me a darkened side-eye. The Wagner team heads to the table and begin stacking their plates up with croissants, muffins, and fruit.

"This is a disaster," Blake grumbles under his breath.

I eye the group of businessmen carefully and an idea pops into my head. "It'll be fine. Trust me. I have a plan!" I whisper to Blake and scurry off to get myself another cup of coffee. I'm so glad I'm not wearing my Fitbit today, based on how fast my heart is beating it would probably send an SOS to the paramedics. 

"Cassandra!" Blake says through his teeth, following me closely behind. "What're you doing?"

I smile cunningly at my boss. "Grab your coffee and follow my lead."

Sauntering over to Mr. Wagner with a mug in my hand, I place my palm on his shoulder and cast him my most flirtatious smile. "Good morning Mr. Wagner. I'm Cassie Carrington, Mr. Pearson's PA. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"You too, Miss Carrington," Mr. Wagner says, shaking my hand. "You must be new."

"I am! It's my second week here." I take a sip from my mug and widen my eyes. "Oh gosh! Mmm!"

Mr. Wagner gestures to my cup. "You like it? The coffee?"

"Yes! It's amazing. So bold and rich, just heavenly!"

A satisfied smile reaches Mr. Wagner's eyes. "We own the company."

"What? No way! I didn't know that. This is probably the best coffee I've had in my entire life!" I tilt my head coyly. "What's your secret?"

Mr. Wagner, a man who looks like he's in his late sixties, greying hair and a beer belly, lets out a rough chuckle, taking a sip of his own coffee. "That's very nice of you to say Cassie but I must tell ya, I'm not about to go and spill trade secrets."

I throw my head back and laugh dramatically. "Oh, Mr. Wagner." I flap my hand. "A girl can try."

Mr. Wagner looks past my shoulder and I follow his gaze to Blake, who's standing tense as a board, his knuckles wrapped so tight around his black ceramic mug that they're turning white. This man needs to learn how to relax.

"Blake," Mr. Wagner laughs. "Your new PA is simply delightful. Much better sense of humor than that Nancy girl."

I shoot Blake a triumphant grin. Flattery wins every time. Blake's jaw twitches as he attempts to curl his lips into a smile. "She's something, isn't she?"

"Just being honest," I giggle, flashing Mr. Wagner a warm smile and gesturing to the table. "Why don't you have a seat? We'll get started soon."

Elliot Wagner chuckles all the way to his chair. Old men are so easy to please, not to mention naive and attention starved. He's acting like I hit on him. It's almost precious.

I walk towards Blake with a prideful smirk on my face. "Well then...crisis averted?"

"That was risky." Blake shakes his head disapprovingly. "I don't like risks, Cassandra."

I roll my eyes then immediately remember that he's my boss's boss. Must learn how to control facial expressions! "It wasn't risky! I saw him add three packs of sugar to his coffee and like four creams, there was no way he'd be able to tell the brand. His drink probably tastes like a melted Frappuccino."

Blake purses his lips, but his body slightly relaxes. "You were just lucky," he says in a low tone. "And luck is something I seldom rely on."

"You say luck, I say skill," I counter lightly. "Plus, luck is just opportunity in disguise."

Blake's eyes flash with amusement as he chuckles. "Did you get that from a fortune cookie?"

"No, I didn't!" I huff. "That was all me. Although...maybe I should trademark it." I playfully swat at Blake's arm. "Oh my God! Maybe Adrian can help me! I could be rich!"

"Adrian?" Blake asks, his eyes ashen. "I wasn't aware that you were on a first-name basis."

Shit. "I'm still getting used to using professional titles," I lie, anxious giggles escaping my mouth. "New Vision Press was more uh—casual."

Mr. Pearson hums while studying me intently. "In that case, you can address me as Blake. If that's more comfortable for you."

"Really?" I ask hesitantly. "Are you sure?" Something tells me that no one else in the office does.

"Yes." He pauses. "That is if we're not among colleagues. I'd hate for people to think you're getting preferential treatment." Ah, there it is.

"Right..." I nod my head slowly, unsure of how to react to the sudden shift in energy between us. "Wouldn't want that."

Blake smiles, tilting his head towards the projector screen. "I think it's time to start the meeting."

I reach for the slide advancer that's in my pocket and hand it to him, our fingers briefly grazing. "The floor is yours—" I look up and meet his surprisingly resolute eyes. "Blake."

Blake clears his throat before walking to the front of the room. I take a seat, pull out my laptop and begin taking minutes. The next three hours pass surprisingly fast. Blake takes command of the room and the discussion is lively and engaging. Every question that comes from the Wagner team is answered promptly and accurately, almost as if Blake's reading off of a teleprompter. I've never seen someone exert so much finesse and confidence during a meeting. I often find myself forgetting to take notes because I'm so engrossed in what he's saying. Who knew mergers and acquisitions could be so enthralling?

When the meeting is over, the Wagner team linger in the boardroom and we make small talk with the five executives, exchanging fishing stories and predictions for the upcoming Seahawks season. It's times like this I'm grateful for my dad pushing all these activities on me.

Pulling myself away from the conversation, I start to tidy up the refreshment table. These men are animals! Not one single pastry is left.

"So, how did you enjoy your first merger meeting?" Blake's calm voice looms from behind me. "You didn't fall asleep which I'll take as a good sign," he jokes while handing me serving plates to stack.

"It was surprisingly interesting," I admit, grabbing the used napkins out of his hand and tossing them on top of the platters. "I think it helped that you're a great public speaker."

Blake raises an eyebrow. "I am?" he laughs. "I don't hear that often. Honestly, public speaking makes me kind of nervous."

"Really? I don't believe you. You looked like you were the President of Toastmasters up there."

Blake chuckles and leans against the table. "What a compliment," he grins. "Are you attempting to butter me up after the whole coffee fiasco?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, exactly. I'm just trying to claw my way back into your good graces," I say sarcastically. "Also—" I tap on the urn. "It's empty and no one complained, so I think that fiasco was a non-starter."

Blake shakes his head, his eyes lighting up. "Perhaps you were correct, and I might have overreacted."

I smirk knowingly. "See? Sometimes people tend to overreact in stressful situations. Maybe you should've cut me some slack on the Stella front."

Blake lets out a defeated sigh then smiles. "You're quite clever, aren't you? How did you manage to turn this around on me?"

"Who knows? Maybe I was born to be a lawyer," I joke, shrugging lightly.

"You might be onto something," Blake says, rubbing his chin. "If you were an attorney, I'd hate to face you on the stands."

I grin. "Is this your way of apologizing?"

"Perhaps," Blake answers casually, his eyes softening. "Or maybe it's just an educated observation."

I chuckle while shaking my head. "Apology accepted."

"I didn't say I was apolog-" Blake begins to argue but is cut off by a throat clearing. I crane my head to peek around his wide shoulders.

"Pearson," Adrian says, his dark gaze shifting between the two of us. I instinctively take a step away from Blake. "Cassie." He nods his head toward me.

Blakes jaw tightens as we both turn around to face Adrian, the atmosphere in the boardroom dropping several degrees. "Adrian, is there something you needed?" Blake asks with an edge.

"Not at all. I just wanted to stop by and say hello to Mr. Wagner. I have an update on a couple of his patents," Adrian responds but his eyes stay locked on my face. Can he be any more obvious?! I try to break eye contact but it's as if he has my eyeballs lassoed to his gaze.

Blake emotionlessly gestures inside the room. "Be my guest. He's in the far corner."

Adrian's forced smile is almost laughable. "Thank you," he says with zero appreciation in his tone as he enters the room. "Cassie," he stops in front of me. "I left some documents on your desk that need to be scanned. Please make sure you upload them to our database before the end of the day."

I nod nervously. "Of course."

"Actually, those documents will have to wait," Blake interjects. "I need to review the plans for Client Appreciation Night with Cassandra."

Adrian's lip twitches as his narrowed eyes meet Blake's. "No problem," he says through his teeth. "Tomorrow then...Cassandra." His piercing gaze causes goosebumps to manifest up my arms. He is not happy right now. But what the hell am I supposed to do about it?

I swallow. "I'll get to it as soon as I can."

Adrian hums wordlessly and walks towards Mr. Wagner. Oh boy, I'm starting to see why Nadine decided to increase my salary. How the fuck am I supposed to aid both of them without cloning myself? I sense a lot of overtime hours coming up.

I turn my attention back to cleaning, but Blake puts his hand on my forearm. "Miss Bedford can handle this. We should go and review Nancy's preliminary plans for C.A.N."

My stomach grumbles as we exit the boardroom. "Can I get lunch first?" I ask quietly. "I'm a bit hungry."

"Why don't we order something to the office? That way we can work and eat," Blake suggests. "You can email your receipt to our finance department for reimbursement."

I take a deep breath. Who needs a break anyway? "Yeah, sure. That sounds...efficient."

Blake smiles proudly. "Exactly."

"Is there anything you want to eat? Or can I order whatever?" I ask, pulling up UberEats.

"Oh, I don't need anything. My lunch is in the fridge."

I narrow my eyes. "You mean that stack of Tupperware containers?"

"Yes, exactly," Blake replies casually as we walk to the staff room.

"You make your own lunches?" I ask hesitantly. "Really?" I would have assumed he eats out every day like Adrian.

Blake laughs. "I don't make them, but my personal chef does." Blake pulls out a container from the fridge. "This week is quinoa, chicken, and steamed vegetables."

My mouth gapes. "You eat the same thing every single day? Seriously?"

"Yes." Blake blinks a couple of times like my question shocked him.

"Doesn't that get boring?"

"Not at all. Chef Caleb ensures that all my daily macros are met with every meal which is really the most important aspect of food consumption."

My eyes widen in disbelief. "But what about...flavor?"

"Don't worry, Cassandra, he uses salt." He places his meal into the microwave for three minutes. "Hurry up and order something. It would be rude for me to eat in front of you."

I quickly select two sushi rolls from a Japanese restaurant down the street and press order. "Are you actually not going to eat until my food arrives?" I ask.

"I'll wait.”

"But it's going to take like fifteen minutes for my sushi to arrive," I point out. "Your food will get cold."

Blake tilts his head and grins. "Then I'll reheat it."

"Why did you heat-it up in the first place then?" I ask, not following his logic whatsoever.

Blake chuckles. "You ask a lot of questions, Cassandra."

"Maybe because you don't make a lot of sense." I cross my arms defensively.

Blake's blue eyes soften. "I guess you're just going to have to figure me out," he says playfully.

"I've never been good at puzzles."

"That's funny," Blake chuckles, his bright eyes scanning my face intently. "Neither have I."