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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?”
