Page 17 of Dominant

I had created a detailed summary of the money that was moving to and from - mostly from - the mystery account. Printing out my completed report and squaring the paper into a neat stack, I resolved to give it one more try with Alexander. I decided there was no point in speculating about his motivations when in reality I knew nothing. Maybe he was having a bad day.

I knocked on his door again. It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon and I hadn’t seen him leave his office all day.

“Yes?” he answered, like before. If anything, he sounded more annoyed this time. I opened the door and walked briskly towards the desk as if he hadn’t basically slammed the door in my face last time.

“I found something in the accounts that looks important, but I’m not sure I have all the files. There’s a lot of activity; it’s the highest-grossing investment. I thought maybe you would be able to tell me about it?”

He eyed me for a second, a hard look on his face. “What do you mean, in the accounts? Are you looking at the ledger?”

“Yes,” I nodded. Wasn’t that my job?

“Who gave you the ledger?”

“Marianne. I wanted to get the tax filings started.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, and I had the sense that he was struggling with some internal thought or impulse. “Close the door and take a seat,” he said finally.

I shut the door with my heart hammering in my chest and then passed my report across the desk to him.

“It’s for a numbered account,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and cool. “278503921 Ltd. There’s no name.” This last detail wasn’t necessary. I could tell by the way he was scanning my report that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Did you ask Marianne for the ledger or did she give it to you of her own accord?”

“I asked her.” My voice sounded very quiet. I didn’t want to get Marianne in any trouble.

He dropped an elbow onto his desk and leaned his forehead into one hand, poring over each page with growing attention.

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” I started rambling, eager to give him a way out, “it’s just that the auditors… they’ll ask about it, and I couldn’t find…”

“I’m well aware of how auditing works,” he interrupted me sharply. His tone was angry, and I was taken aback. He continued to flip through the report, his frown deepening, and I sat in awkward silence, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, until finally he looked up.

“Does something look problematic to you? This is a legitimate account, is it not?”

“Yes,” I could barely hear myself over the beating of my heart. Why was he making me so nervous? “I just… wanted to understand what it was. The other accounts have names, you know, Oliveira Shampoo, or Thomson Kruger Additives, and I thought I should know…” My voice trailed off. All I could think was that it was a strip club and he didn’t want me to know about it.

“Know what? Are you an account rep, Jordan? Do you need to be familiar with the names of our companies? I was under the impression that we’d hired you as an accountant.”

“N-no, it’s just that I--”

“Then stop wasting my time and let me get back to work. The name of this account is the number it’s assigned and there’s nothing you need to know about it.”

I stood up to leave. But suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, my heart racing as I spoke. He snapped his head up at me. “It doesn’t matter to me what this account is, but I’m telling you as your accountant that if you want me to do my job, you need to provide me with information about it. There’s a massive amount of payroll expense here. Where are the names of the employees? You can’t hide shit like this from the auditors.”

It was immediately obvious that I’d gone too far. His expression was hard, tense, and he stood up and walked around the desk with a contained fury, like a dangerous predator. He perched on the edge of his desk and leaned forward until we were face to face.

“Are you insinuating that something untoward is happening here?” he asked in a scary-calm tone of voice.

“N-no, I’m only saying--”

“Yes, you made your points. Now let’s talk about you coming into my office on your first week of work--”

“Third,” I interrupted him.

I immediately regretted it.

His knuckles whitened as he grabbed the edge of the desk. “I am a very busy man. I do not have time to deal with little girls who jump to problematic conclusions about things they know nothing about. Do I make myself clear?”

---