“Assumption. The whole point is she assumed something that wasn’t true was. And she’s regretted it ever since. Don’t make the same mistake, Asher. Don’t assume you know what you saw. It could be entirely innocent. Talk to Alyse. She doesn’t seem like the cheating kind to me and I think you know that.”
He rises and hands back my cocktail before clasping me on the shoulder. “In our entire lives, I’ve never known you to quit on anything. For years, you even fought for that doomed relationship you had with Natalie. Don’t quit now. Fight like the tenacious bastard I know you are. You are meant to marry this woman, brother. I feel it. I see it every time I watch you two together. So swallow your goddamn pride and fight for her. Even if there is something going on with this guy, which I doubt, then fight for her anyway. If you fuck this up because you let your pride get in the way, you’ll live the rest of your life under nothing but a mountain of regret. And trust me, that’s no way to live.”
Then he leaves me alone with my hard liquor and a crushed heart to mull over his words.
Chapter 40
Alyse
My eyes shift from my computer screen to the clock on the wall once again. Five minutes past three. My door is open and I can hear the few people on this floor making their way to the elevator in anticipation of partying the night away. I suddenly wonder what I’ll be doing; the prospect of being by myself in a lonely apartment doesn’t sound appealing in the least.
I haven’t heard from Asher all day. I’ve texted him three times and called twice, but each call went to voice mail. Each text remained unanswered. I’m sure he’s knee-deep with this lawsuit, but I can’t help but worry. It’s not like him to not at least respond with a quick flirty or dirty message.
Out of my peripheral, I see someone standing in my doorway and my heart speeds up hoping it’s Asher, but as I spin around I see it’s Tara. “Alyse, I’m taking off. Did you need anything?”
“Uh, no. I’ll see you next week then, right? You’re taking Friday off?”
“Yep. Have a good holiday.” She winks.
“Say, have you heard from Asher today?”
“Yeah, about a couple hours ago. He said he’d be in later to get a few files.”
“Oh.” I try not to let my face fall, but apparently I fail, because she quickly responds. “He said he’s been really busy, so I wouldn’t worry about it if you’ve been trying to reach him.” Ever the good assistant…trying to cover up for her boss.
“Oh. No, I’m fine. I…just wanted to run a couple of things by him is all.” For being so proficient at lying, I’m failing miserably right now.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Yep,” I mumble, but she’s already gone.
I return to my report. Even with my mind elsewhere, it’s been a very productive week with Asher gone. I’m practically jumping up and down about telling him what I’ve found so far. Although I’m not done completely with the audit, I finally have enough documentation to at least suspend the suspect, pending further investigation. I’ve gone through all the charities and suppliers and found one charity and two suppliers that are not only suspicious, they’re just plain bogus. Well, the businesses are legit, the invoices aren’t.
The CFO, Edward Reigen, requested all three to be set up. Asher will be less than happy when I tell him the charity approval for Feed My Starving Children even has his signature. In the June board of directors meeting minutes, a hundred thousand-dollar donation was approved, which the new supplier notes indicate, but the money never made it to Feed My Starving Children. Instead, it made it to the bank account of Mr. Reigen. In fact, the invoices for the other suppliers also made it into Mr. Reigen’s bank account, which he just opened in February of this year.
No matter how small or large a company is, one thing is the same across them all. The grapevine. It’s surprising how much gossip people want to spread about the misery of others. Mr. Reigen, the CFO of CFC for over five years now, has apparently been going through a very nasty divorce and is being put through the ringer by his ex for outrageous child and alimony support. Amanda freely offered that little tidbit up at the coffee pot last week, so I was less than surprised this morning to find that he also owned the bank account that the false invoices were being paid to.
I feel his presence before I see him and lift my head just as he walks through my door. He looks troubled, angry, and something else that I can’t quite place. The anticipation that I’d had at seeing him quickly changes to unease.