Page 51 of Heated Takeover

“I knew you were going to ask that. I do have to deal with numbers from time to time. The only way I know how to choose the details for events is by knowing the budget. Usually it’s been fine. We have had some excellent paying customers that have maxed out their event budgets for sure.”

“So what’s the issue?” he asks, and there is a definite tone in his voice. Either I’m interrupting something he finds more important than me poking around the budget, or something else is bothering him. If it’s the latter, I doubt he’s going to want to talk to me about it.

“The issue is that although these clients are paying what they owe, the numbers aren’t adding up on the receiving side. It makes it hard for me to know how much I am given to work with when the numbers they want to spend and the numbers we are getting paid don’t line up.”

That catches his attention, and Marcus sits up straight and holds out his hand.

“Let me see,” he says. I hesitate because it’s hard to explain by simply handing over my tablet. So I get up and walk around to his side of the desk. He looks a little surprised, but it fades when I bend towards him and show him what I’m talking about.

“We spent this. They paid this. But then when it looped back in…”

“We had less than we should have had for future events,” he says.

“Exactly.”

“So there’s a leak in spending somewhere,” he states.

“Maybe,” I say. Then I bite my lip and stand straight to fix my skirt. “I’m sorry if it’s not my place, but I do have to deal with these kinds of things–”

“No, no,” he says. “You were right to bring this to me.”

“I hope it doesn’t get anyone in trouble,” I say. “I know that the integration was only recent, and we might still have a few kinks to work out.”

“There are no kinks,” he states bluntly. “Things like this don’t happen accidentally. We need to get to the bottom of it,” he says, getting up from his chair. I step aside and watch him pace momentarily. He walks to the window, pauses, and then back to me, pausing again. “I’m going to schedule a board meeting. A private one. I don’t want anyone at Mission knowing about it, actually.”

“Then how are they supposed to–”

“I’m using my own accountants. Ashford,” he states.

“Are you going to fire Carla?” I ask, referencing our new head of accounting at Mission Events. She’s one of the best we have ever had, in my opinion.

“No. I’m not firing anyone. But I want to get eyes on this from the outside,” he says. “Again, thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

I nod, and he continues to stand in front of me. For a moment neither of us move. There’s something there, but it’s not the usual fizzing tension. It’s something else. And I am not good at leaving things alone.

“About the other night,” I say.

“What about it?” he asks.

By his tone and the way he is staring at me unblinkingly, I realize that he doesn’t want to talk about whatever it is. And so I blink first with a small nod.

“Nothing. Just, thank you for helping me find Jamie. That’s all,” I say as I gather my things.

“Of course,” he says, and it’s neither hot nor cold. Just somewhere right in the middle, like everything else about this place. I don’t know why I expected anything different.

Chapter 20

Marcus

This is just what I need.

When Natalie first came into my office, I wasn’t sure what to think. I’m not going to lie; I have been avoiding her a little since the day at the festival. I’ve been in my head ever since we found Jamie after he ran off, and she called him by his full name. James Ash Blythe. I can’t keep thinking about the fact that his middle name is Ash.

She named him after me. At least that’s the way it looks. His first name, Jamie, is short for James, most likely after her father, James. But the middle name, Ash, is too coincidental. I told her the night we met, the night we shared on the Ferris wheel, that my name was Ash. I liked that she didn’t know who I was, and I wanted to keep it that way. Not to be overly secretive or with any bad motives, obviously. But because it was nice, for once, to talk to someone who had no idea who I was.

Why would she choose that name? That’s my nickname…mine.

Unless that night meant something to her.