"The contract says one point eight million. We've paid one point six two. That leaves the last one hundred eighty."
"The contract exists, yes," Dennis said carefully. "But if we leave the final amount unpaid, it sits on the books as an open payable. The auditors are going to examine open payables. I know that's what worries you."
Bradley leaned back. "We pay it, it's a finished contract. Nobody digs into a finished contract."
Dennis looked at him as if hoping he would reconsider the sentence. "That's not how auditors work. They sample completed payments. Sometimes they prefer them because there's an actual transfer to trace."
"Then split it into two invoices. Ninety each."
"Two invoices from the same vendor in the same week, for the same work? That's the first thing they'd look at."
Bradley tapped the table with one finger. "Owners sign, Dennis. They don't read."
The room went quiet. Dennis could hear the air-conditioning system switching into its evening cycle and the distant squeak of a cleaning cart out in the corridor. Bradley looked out over the city and imagined standing at a podium before employees who would soon be required to call him chief executive. He believed that after Monday, whatever questions existed would become the responsibility of people who needed his goodwill to keep their jobs.
"We've already taken one million, six hundred and twenty thousand," Bradley said. "Next Monday, Patricia stands up and names me CEO. After that, nobody asks. Get the remaining invoice submitted by Friday."
Dennis looked down at his own signature on the earlier approval sheets. He had convinced himself for months that a person who approved a payment was not necessarily responsible for what happened to it. But the more Bradley spoke, the harder it became to pretend that his own choices were merely administrative. He folded the page carefully and put it inside his folder, avoiding Bradley's eyes as he said he would take care of it.
Bradley's girlfriend, Sloane Avery, was waiting on the rooftop when he finished. She was thirty-one, a social media personality with an expensive camera, a talent for composing flattering photographs, and enough followers to make every party feel like a performance. Her income came from real brand partnerships, although she often allowed admirers to assume that every jewelry box and hotel stay in her life had been paid for by sponsors. She preferred being photographed beside men who seemed powerful, and Bradley preferred having someone photograph him that way.
"How did the big meeting go?" she asked as he joined her beside the glass railing.
"Dennis is worrying about invoices again."
"Then let him worry. You've got your announcement Monday."
Bradley looked toward the illuminated office tower across the road. "I have the company, the job, and the new owners' confidence. All I need is to get through a week of paperwork."
Sloane lifted her phone and framed his face against the skyline. "Say it again, but this time smile like a man who knows he's already won."