Office Affairs

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"It's not good," I said to Alastair.

Escaping from the frivolities of the main office, I'd retreated into the glass meeting room to complete this month's invoices. As per usual, the design girls had placed an excessive amount of orders and now it was my job to sift through all the paperwork and make sure there were no nasty surprises.

Alastair shut the door after himself and sat down opposite me. I could tell he didn't like sitting in the "guest" seat as opposed to his own throne, but he didn't make any complaints.

"What, your workload?"

"No, just the finances," I said. "I'm checking these invoices against our budget and while everything falls just within it, we're not exactly making a huge profit."

I twisted the laptop around to show him. He sat in silence for a while, taking in the figures while running his fingers over his chin. Then he groaned and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

"I think the problem is that we haven't adapted the budget to be in line with our falling profits. We're not making the same amount of money that we were two years ago, and yet we're still spending the same amount."

"I know," he said, his tone firm yet soft. "I get it, Sash."

I narrowed my eyes. I could do without the attitude when I'd slaved over these finances for the past few hours.

"Sorry," he said, noticing my scowl. "It's just shit, you know? I've tried to make cuts, but there's only so much I can do before I start getting labelled as the problem."

"Alastair, you're not the problem. It's just tough out there at the moment. I mean, look at your clients. Ivan Barinov would only deal with the best, and he's stuck around."

"Ivan is more about mutual trust; he likes dealing with people he can rely on. The fact is, our competitors are offering the same as us but at a lower price."

"Nobody else can offer the Montgomery legacy, though," I said.

Defeat clouded his face as he hooked an index finger in the knot of his tie to loosen it, almost as though the material was suffocating him as much as his failing business was.

It was a rare sight, and I suspected Alastair had been burying his head in the sand for a while now. This company was his pride and joy—his baby—and I was telling him that he wasn't being a good father.

"I can't tell you what to do," I said when his troubled eyes met mine again.

"Come on, Sash; that's your job." He tried to keep his tone light to pass it off as a joke, but we both knew he was hoping I'd give him some guidance.

"I've got faith in you," I said, shooting him a reassuring smile. "If you like, though, we can schedule a meeting and brainstorm some more ideas for cutting costs?"

He gnawed at his bottom lip but eventually nodded, standing up. "Sure. Best tackle it head-on, right?"

"Definitely."

He nodded again, shot me a smile that was far from natural, and then headed out. As soon as he was in the main room, I saw the transformation; he turned back into the joking, light-hearted soul who ran this office, the friendly boss who wanted his employees to enjoy their jobs, to love working at his company—his company that was beginning to sink.

* * *

Invoicing was a dull task, even for someone who enjoyed numbers as much as I did. Coupled with the fact that it brought about concerns for the future of the company, the whole activity was far more stressful than it should be.