“But you really didn’t…” I tried to connect the dots. “A Malaysian business went under. Happens all the time.” I thought about the rumors it had been nothing more than a shell company, but I’d seen the financials. Or I thought I had. “Did you push CROW5 through underwriting?”
“I did nothing illegal. But it’s better if I’m not acting as managing director during the investigation. I’ll be taking a leave of absence.”
“Paid?” I didn’t give a shit if he received salary or not, but it signaled how much culpability the firm believed he carried.
“Paid.” He grimaced. My heart beat sped up. What else?
I leaned back in the chair and crossed an ankle over a knee, waiting. Hit me.
“The firm may ask you to take a leave of absence.”
I closed my eyes and twisted in my seat, positive I hadn’t heard him correctly. He straightened his tie as he swallowed. He readjusted his small circular spectacles. His office chair creaked. The fucker was nervous.
“Why would I need to take a leave of absence?” I slowed my words for emphasis. “I had nothing to do with CROW5.”
His gaze fell to his desk calendar. “Your fund is the only one within the company that made money. This can’t be news to you. Overall, CROW5 lost close to a billion dollars. Other firms lost hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“Nigel, you know I had no inside information. I bought in after you introduced me to Cyr. After you told me it was a buy.”
“And you sold before anyone else.” He raised his timid, beady gaze but still couldn’t look me in the eye.
“I sold because my understanding was CROW5 made money in real estate investments in Malaysia via a new technology appraisal app. I saw factors that would impede their growth at the same time I found a company that would be a ripe takeover target for Alphabet. I. Had. No. Insider. Information.”
His pupils finally manned up and returned my glare. “It’s not my call. I’m just giving you a heads up. There are photos of you at Cyr Martin’s New Year’s Eve bash in Singapore. The firm is concerned about the myopics.”
“The myopics, my ass. The firm doesn’t want to become targeted by the Justice Department and the SEC.” My thoughts raced. “What photos?”
He shrugged and threw a casual hand in the air. “It’s nothing to be worried about.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Shock crossed the tiny Asian man’s face. Cussing bothered him? He was about to get a fucking earful of colorful verbiage. The ass wipe introduced me to Cyr Martin. “They want me to take paid leave? Step away from my fund? A fund I built and put together? The best performing fund Belman has?”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down? What the…” I stood and paced the room. Out the window, a gray smog hung over the city skyline.
“I don’t believe the investigation will lead to you. Out of an abundance of caution, Belman has recommended that I back away for a period of time. You’re probably right. It won’t impact you.”
“An abundance of—” I paced, both hands on my hips, grinding my teeth. “My meeting with the FBI is next week. Should Belman’s lawyers attend?”
“Your lawyer should.” His gaze fell to random papers on the desk.
“God damnit, Nigel. What the fuck did you get me involved in? Is CROW5 really a shell company?”
“I believe the firm to be legitimate. I had the same information you had when you invested. I did not know of your decision to sell until after the fact.” His rote script told me it wasn’t the first time he’d said those words. Mother fucker.
“What photos, Nigel?”
“Call Perlman in legal. He has a file. TMZ, I think maybe even People magazine has some photos.”
“Of me?” I had never even made the New York Post. The room transformed into a drugged-out twilight zone.
“Well, you and various celebrities. Remember the party?”
Not well. Cyr’s parties were notorious for free-flowing alcohol. In another country, I let loose. “What celebs?”
“A rapper. Producer. Models.”
“A whole lotta of people I didn’t know.” Cyr Martin loved to cater to his version of rich and famous, which to me meant a lot of B or C level celebs. The kind of celebs whose names I’d never bother to remember.
“The lawyers worry about myopics.” He shrugged as he repeated his statement. He opened his mouth to say more, but I’d heard enough.
I charged down the hall, seething. I shoved my office door open so hard the handle slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Valerie stepped back, clutching a few papers to her chest as if they were a shield.
“What?” I shouted at her.
“I had some personal invoices for you.” She stepped back, eyes wide.
Guilt for scaring my assistant tempered my anger. I held out my hand. Aware I needed to calm down, I breathed deeply as I rounded my desk. The number on the invoice in my hand jumped out at me. “Ten thousand dollars? What’s this?”
“It’s the invoice from Restaurant Enterprises for the consulting for your friend. I wasn’t sure how you wanted to handle it?”
“For ten thousand dollars?”
“You didn’t say—” I could swear tears rimmed her eyes.
“It’s okay.” I tossed the papers on my desk.
“That’s the first invoice.”
“The first—” I had far more pressing matters at hand than miscommunication to my assistant. “Send me an email that outlines what you’ve agreed to with…” I glanced down to read the company header, “Restaurant Industry Enterprises.”
“Do you want me to stop them working?”
“No. Is that a monthly fee?”
“It’s an initial deposit on a multi-phased project. The first phase is the consulting piece. The second phase would cover plans to launch the restaurant, and that fee amount would depend on the project scope.”
“Only phase one is authorized.”
“Yes, that’s what I told them.”
“So, if that’s the deposit, how—”
“Twenty thousand in total for Phase One.”
“Fine.” Twenty thousand dollars for another Class C celebrity. Fuck. One more thing that
