Chapter 21
But nothing is more depressing than being passed from one banker to another.
I’d thought of going with my father’s personal banker, of course. Dad claims the man is a genius with money, and he prefers not to deal with financial issues himself. I, however, don’t mind using the bank’s people under normal circumstances, as they know my bank’s rules more intimately than a personal banker would. This is not normal, though. Not by a long shot.
Once I finally get a hold of the right man, though, he has fewer answers than I’d hoped for. It’s all I can do not to snap the pen in my hand as I speak. “What do you mean you were told to put a freeze on my account?”
“You see, all your accounts are attached to your family firm, and yours have been flagged for transactions over twenty-thousand by the CFO.”
I drop the pen when I stretch my fingers in place of balling them into fists. “Alan Willhiser put a cap on my spending?”
His voice is low. “Yes, sir.”
It’s all I can do not to rage, but it’s not the banker’s fault. “And is there anything else you can do on your end to help with this?”
“I am afraid not. The CFO is the only one who?—”
“Thanks.” I hang up. It was rude maybe, but I don’t want to hear another word about how Alan has control over my money. That worm has been pissed off and jealous about my inheritance ever since I got it, and he finally has his greasy fingers in my wallet. Wonder how he convinced Dad to let him have this kind of control over me. Not that it matters.
I will simply have to convince Alan to back off.
The elevator ride to Alan’s floor is a short one, and when I arrive, his admin looks nervous. But she always looks nervous. Being the administrative assistant to the CFO comes with a lot of people yelling at her, I’m sure of it, so I try to speak politely when I get to her desk. Storming past her will only darken my mood. So, I flash my nicest smile. “Alan in?”
She gulps. “Yes.”
“I’d like to see him.”
Her smile is strained, and I almost feel bad asking her to do her job. But she buzzes in any way. “Mr. Willhiser, Mr. West is here to see you.”
“Elliot or Anderson?”
She gulps. “Anderson.”
Not sure if this idiot knows I can hear him grumble under his breath. Not the words, but the tone of them. He’s not happy about me showing up in his office. Good. I’m not happy about him showing up in my wallet.
“Show him in.”
His office isn’t as nice as my own, but given his position, it is appropriate for his standing. A CFO should have a decent office, after all. A view of the city, since Alan has always hated the water. Larger than mine, but the furnishings are less comfortable. Scandinavian design is better suited to style than company. Everything is severe and angular, much like Alan himself.
He sits behind a glass-topped desk on the far right, his eyes locking onto me. His smile could not be more forced. “Anderson. Thought I might see you today.” He glances past me. “It’s fine, Gillian.”
“Sorry to interrupt your day, Alan. I’ll try to keep this brief.” I shut the door behind me.
“By all means, come in and have a seat.”
A white man in his fifties, Alan Willhiser worked hard to get to the top, sacrificing marriages on the way there. A workaholic of the first order. Once he reached CFO, we’d thought he would finally breathe, but no. He turned his affinity for work into micromanaging anything in his purview.
On more than one occasion, Dad had told him he didn’t need to keep up such a grueling schedule. But Alan insisted a good CFO watched every penny, and that if he didn’t, who would? Dad, being a man who appreciates dedication above all else, has warmed up to the idea.
Micromanaging has become his specialty, which might be why he has wormed his way into my money. If he hadn’t wrestled his way into Dad’s good graces, I doubt I’d be in this mess now. This means I have to play nice, which I loathe.
Alan hates I was born with Future CEO written in my DNA. He hates even more that I was given my inheritance and a cushy job straight out of law school. Never mind the fact that I didn’t ask for my inheritance, nor did I ask for the job and all the responsibilities that come with it. My father simply had a plan in place for me, and there was no arguing that. I would have been a moron to turn any of that down.
Even though he’s near my father’s age, I swear Alan wishes he were my father’s heir apparent. I can’t tell if it’s jealousy that I’ve had things so easy, or if it’s anger that anyone but him has it so easy.
Doesn’t matter right now.
I’ve kept my charming smile on, hoping to set him at ease, but I’m not sure Alan has anything resembling ease. Everything about him is stiff, and it always has been. From his overly starched collars to his precision haircut, all details are Alan-perfect, which is to say stiff and unyielding. As I sit, I wonder if he’s ever so much as taken a deep breath. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Alan.”
“Anything for the West family, of course. What can I do for you?”
“I wish I had an appointment on the books, but a very important matter has suddenly come up, and I need to discuss it with you.”
“I’m all ears.”
Keeping my smile exactly as it was is a challenge. Alan truly is all ears. In fact, I’ve often wondered if he’s considered getting them pinned so he less resembled a cartoon character. But that was the old me. The me who teased people for their appearances. I’d like to think I’ve changed. At least a little.
“Yes, well, I attempted to make a donation a few days ago, only to find out today that the donation did not go through and my account is frozen under your guidance. Care to explain?”
“Ah, yes, that. Your father asked me to monitor your accounts. Your spending has gotten out of control.”
“Excuse me?”
He smiles slyly. “Your father’s words. Not mine.”
“My money is my own. Not his. Not yours.”
“I’m sure you see it that way, but a four-hundred thousand dollar donation to some random charity? Surely, Anderson, you must understand why we cannot allow that.”
“Random? It’s the Chamberlain Mansion. How can you call that random? It’s a Boston institution.” That’s the whole point of hosting the auction there. To make this look legit.
“I could have allowed for a smaller donation, understand? But such a large one?” He shakes his head, still smiling that slimy smirk. “I’m afraid that is out of the question.”
Oh, he is fucking loving this. Me, having to come to him for permission to spend my own money? The asshole is eating this up. “You’re being a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”
“A four-hundred-thousand dollar donation is ridiculous for a man who has never shown the slightest interest in building preservation, Anderson. Did you win one of their auctions or something?”
Yes. “That’s rather small-minded of you. I know a worthy charity when I see it. Don’t need to win an auction to want to help a good cause. I’m surprised you’re not as charitable as I am, considering how hard you’ve worked all your life. I’d think seeing how much work goes into things would make you more altruistic, not less.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Let me guess—there was some pretty girl you wanted to impress with the size of your wallet?”
I am dangerously close to snapping at him. “What I do with my money is my business, Alan. Not yours.”
“It might not be my business, but it is your father’s. I was only following Elliot’s orders. If you want, you can take it up with him.”
Giving me permission to speak to my father? He is weaving his way between us, isn’t he? If Dad does not see the way he’s attempting to control the situation, then I will show him.
Alan tries to maintain a cool exterior, but I see the cracks. The way his hand slowly inches toward his call button. The somehow stiffer position of his shoulders. A tightening wrinkle at his temple. He’s waiting for me to bark at him or attack him some other way. He’s been wanting a confrontation with me for a long time, and this gives him the perfect excuse. To prove I am not CEO material. If I escalate this, I’ll look like the dangerous hothead he’s always told Dad I am.
So, I laugh, and the sound makes him jump a little. “Good talk, Alan.” I leave his office without another word. I should have known better than to argue with Alan. There is someone above him.
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