Chapter 9
Mistress Ainsley's words buzzed around in my head like a pesky fly, but I swatted them away, refusing to let myself be distracted. The numbers grew clearer as I organized them, and patterns began to emerge—inconsistencies in the expenses, discrepancies in the income. The club's financial health was indeed a mess, and it was clear that Alex had been trying to manage it on his own for far too long.
The sounds of the upstairs kitchen grew louder as the morning progressed, and the scent of brewing coffee began to waft down the stairs, making my mouth water, but despite that and the early hour, I was fully engaged in the task at hand. The thrill of uncovering a mystery was something I hadn't felt in a long time, and it was surprising how much I was enjoying it.
After a few hours of meticulous work, I found it—a pattern of unusually high expenses in the supply department. It didn't take a financial whiz to see that something was off. Supplies for the club should not have cost anywhere close to what the numbers were revealing, not unless someone was embezzling or ordering gold-plated handcuffs.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. It was one of the kitchen staff, a young man with a pierced eyebrow, holding a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of buttered toast. "Alex sent this for you," he said, setting it down on the desk. "Said you'd need sustenance for the battle ahead."
The gesture was surprisingly kind, and it made me realize how isolated Alex must feel. "Thanks," I murmured, giving him a warm smile. "Could you tell him I'll be up in a bit?"
The young man nodded and disappeared back through the door, leaving me to the comforting aroma of breakfast and the damning evidence laid out before me. As I took a sip of the hot coffee, its bitterness mingling with the sweetness of the sugar, I couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of purpose. This wasn't just about sorting numbers; it was about helping Alex and ensuring the club's survival, and my freedom.
The numbers before me whispered of deceit and greed, and I found myself growing more determined with each page I turned.
As I continued to dig through the paperwork, my thoughts drifted to the club's members. Who could be behind this? The club was a tight-knit community, and the idea of someone betraying that trust was unsettling. But I knew that money had a way of making people do things they'd never dream of otherwise.
The door creaked open again, and this time it was Alex who stepped in, his expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Find anything?" he asked, his eyes scanning the now organized piles of paperwork.
I held up a page with a highlighted entry, nodding. "I think so," I stated, my voice filled with excitement. "Look at these supply costs. They're astronomical. There's no way you should have been spending this much on toys and cleaning supplies."
Alex's eyes narrowed as he took the page from my hand. His gaze scanned the numbers, and his face grew more tense with each line. "This doesn't make sense," he murmured, the fingers of his other hand gliding through his air and rumpling it.
I leaned back in the chair, watching him process the information. "I can look into it more," I offered. "See if I can find out who's been signing off on these orders."
Alex shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I appreciate it," he said, his voice tight. "But I think this is something I should take care of. This isn't just a simple mistake."
The weight of his words sent a shiver down my spine. The club was his life's work, and the thought of someone betraying him was clearly not a comfortable one. "I'd be discreet," I assured him.
Alex again shook his head, his gaze never leaving the paper in his hand. "I need to know who I can trust," he said, talking to himself, his voice low. "If there's someone in the club taking advantage..."
"I understand," I said, my own voice firm. "If you let me help, I'll do everything I can to help you find out who's behind this."
Alex's eyes met mine, searching for something. Then he murmured, "No, you just keep digging here. I'll do the rest of it." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me with the heavy silence and the ticking of the clock.
For a few seconds, I stared at the closed door, then taking a deep breath, I returned to the paperwork.
With each page, more of the financial situation was revealed. And the more I discovered, the more complex the situation seemed to grow. It was becoming increasingly clear that someone was playing a dangerous game, one that could potentially bring the whole club crashing down.