Page 67 of Queen of Ruin

“She’s so far up Whitlock’s ass, she smells like money,” Alistair jokes, motioning behind me. A man wearing jeans and a graphic t-shirt of a band I don’t recognize, is on the second floor, looking down at the hustle of the office.

“He looks young to be running a firm like this,” I note. “Darren said he was a friend of your father’s.”

“That’s his son. Everyone calls him Lock. He took over the firm a few years ago,” Alistair explains.

“Does he always dress like that at work?” I’m trying not to judge, but with a company this size and serving most of Washington’s elite, I would have thought he’d be in a suit and tie like Alistair.

“He’s a bit unconventional. Reminds me of Darren, rebelling against the patriarch,” Alistair offers.

“By the way, where is Darren?” Alistair raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Studying.”

Alistair make a noise of agreement.

“This looks like the bat cave.” I gesture to the five monitors lined up on his desk and the TV mounted on the wall with the sound turned off.

“I assure you, there’s no saving of Gotham happening here,” he explains in a foreboding manner.

Alistair sits back in his chair, casually crossing one ankle over the other and inspects his tie as if he didn’t realize he had one on. His blond hair is no longer the carefree locks of a boy who plays lacrosse, but rather the carefully wrangled strands of a man who is lording over Gotham.

“I opened an account for you. The money is accessible for however you want to use it, but if I can suggest…”

“Those weren’t the terms,” I interrupt.

“I know Darren wasn’t exactly excited about me handling the money, but I assured him I would take very good care of you.”

“And that included having access to the money before the contract was up?” I question.

“You didn’t know?” He tilts his head curiously.

I shake my head. “Darren neglected to provide that detail.”

“Well, he explicitly told me that you were to have access to whatever you needed,” he explains.

I don’t know whether to be angry at him or relieved. I’d already been going through my savings as it was.

“I doubt this is the kind of thing your firm deals with.”

“You’d be surprised.” He smooths the tie against his chest and leans forward.

Getting back down to business, he pulls up something on his computer and tilts the screen in my direction so I can see. “I can invest the money however you like, but I have some options that could make you a modest profit, depending on how risky or conservative you want to be.”

“I don’t need it to make money,” I insist exasperatedly. “I mean, five million is more than anyone would need.”

Alistair flips a pen around between his fingers while giving me a challenging stare.

“That’s not what we do here.”

“So, what exactly do you do?” I inquire.

“Make the rich richer, of course.” He says it as if it’s a given, but I suppose a firm like this isn’t for someone who has only a hundred dollars to invest – probably not even a thousand. I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not looking to be richer.”

“You don’t have a choice because it’s my fiduciary duty to invest your money wisely,” he informs me.

Alistair and duty were two words I never thought would be uttered in the same sentence, but then again, I never thought I’d be sitting on the opposite side of a desk having options on how to invest five million dollars. The thought makes me swallow hard. I know I asked for it – demanded it really – but I didn’t think much about what it would look like to have it.

“And the more money I make, the more money you make.” I stare back at him.

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