He clutched his briefcase as he quickly walked into my office, looking for a place to sit. I gestured to the armchair in front of my desk, which would be the obvious choice for someone with social skills. I hadn’t hired him for his social skills, though. I had hired him because he and his team of four other accountants knew numbers, and they knew them well.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Alan,” I said, watching him settle into the chair.
“Of course, Mr. White,” he said with a nod, as he glanced around the office.
“Please, Alan. You can call me Chandler. You’ve worked for me, for what? Seven years now?”
“Eight.”
“Exactly. Call me Chandler.”
“Right. Chandler,” he said, testing it out while also testing my patience.
“You’ve handled my business books and personal books for years, but I have a new giant I need you to take on,” I said, placing my palms on the desk. “Harold Enterprises.”
His eyes grew wide at the task I had propositioned him.
“Surely, there is a team of accountants here…” he said questioningly.
“Yes, but I think we need a fresh set of eyes on our books. I am in charge now, and I would like my own teams on certain things. I know you and your firm can handle it.”
“Of course we can.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. I want your firm to drop everything and set up camp here for as long as it takes for you to make sure everything is kosher in our books.”
“When?”
“Today,” I said, thinking it was obvious. I glanced at the clock above his shiny, bald head. “I’ll give you an hour to gather the troops and get back here. You can use the conference room for the time being.”
“Y-yes sir,” he said, picking up his brown leather briefcase and giving me a small salute before slipping out the door in a state of panic.
For being as painfully awkward as he was, it was a good thing he could balance my books expertly, making sure I held onto as much of my money as possible, and legally. If anyone was going to find anything askew here, it would be him. While I did have a team of accountants here at Harold Enterprises at my disposal, I didn’t reallyknowthem. I trusted my people more. WithGabriella gone, I could bring in anyone I wanted without having to answer to her or offending her daddy’s prized company.
Without her here, I also actually had to focus on work and not trying to steal a moment where I could get in her pants. In the end, look where that got us. It was boring, but productive. I realized she had been a distraction, a fun one, but a distraction nonetheless. It was the last thing I needed when taking over such a beast of a company.
It took only two days for my accounting team to come to me with a problem. A big one.
“What the hell do you mean an off-shore account?” I asked, my voice rising slightly as I looked at Alan shifting in his seat uncomfortably after delivering the bad news. It was a good thing my door was closed because I did not need this conversation getting out.
“That’s what it looks like to me at least,” said Alan, looking at his papers in his briefcase. “Somewhere in the Cayman Islands, according to these account numbers, though it will take a few more days to track the exact bank down.”
“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself. This was not what I had been expecting or wanting them to find when I brought in my accounting team. I thought they would find a way to cut a few corners, pocket some more cash, bring up our numbers even more. Finding fraudulent activity was a shitstorm I hadn’t expected.
“It looks like it’s been happening for quite some time,” said Alan, pushing a paper with numbers across the smooth surface of my desk.
I picked it up and ran my eyes over the black and white text, the numbers blurring together as my mind tried to piece together what the hell was happening. There were too many commas and zeros in these figures. It didn’t make any sense, especially if this had been happening for as long as he was implying. How had no one caught this?
“Someone has been skimming money each quarter from a restricted fund, when the amounts are bigger and it’s easier to overlook missing money.”
“Restricted fund…” I mused. “Like for non-profits or charities?”
“Precisely. One that’s easily overlooked with all the tax breaks and deductibles that go toward hosting big charity events.”
Like the two I had gone to in the past few months I had been working here.
“How much are we talking?” I asked, looking up from the paper.
Alan paused, as if wary to tell me.
