Mr. Vincenzo | 18+

thirteen

v i n c e n z o

I loosened my tie, kept down my spectacles, and gulped a glass of water. My head ached. I attended more meetings and calls in the past eight hours than I probably did throughout the last week. Cases under the CEO rarely had complications everywhere else but not for me. Today was another not-so-exceptional case of mismanagement and added to the exceptionally inflating list why the 'Prince' by birth shouldn't sit on a chair that deserved merit. When Ryan Carlson made his first blunder, it spiralled the worst. Credit Capital lost one of its biggest clients, the stocks plummeted, and in the few hours it took for us to do the initial damage control, we incurred a loss of $150 million in worth and $600 million in valuation.

Ryan Carlson's father was as good as him.  I rated John Carlson better because he was at least self-aware. But his grandfather, Mr. Travis Carlson, was a billionaire and Ryan thought his blunder cost him his pocket money.

The board had not given him a single client valued at $50 million or above since then.

Mr. Carlson wanted his grandchild to learn business before he could no longer handle things and rightfully so but his way was a headache for the board, our MDs, EDs, and me.

My way would have been to throw him at the grassroots and let him climb up by merit. Or at least, it would lead him to the epiphany that he needed merit to claim his birthright and for that, he must work his ass off first.

I massaged my head as I went through the investment risk analysis report. Princessa today failed at a critical credit assessment and signed off $47 million to a magazine on decline. The risk stood at 80-20. Now it was my job to create enough pressure on then that they work their ass off to get into the 20%. The shareholders were as unhappy as it got and a long meeting was what it took to convince them that their shares would not only remain safe but the company was also in a state to absorb small-to-medium financial shocks.

Their condition was one. Kick Ryan Carlson out.

Princessa's risk analysis undoubtedly charted 100-0.

"You look like you are going to ask for an Aspirin, boss," Liam laughed but continued to type on his Mac.

"As long as I don't get any more calls tonight, I'll be okay." I sighed and closed the file. "It is high time Mr. Carlson separates his love and his trust in his grandson from his responsibilities towards his company."

"Right. He should understand it's taking a toll on you, especially alongside the shifting of the headquarters."

I nodded. "Did Mr. Allen hand you over Ryan Carlson's file?"

"Yes," he pulled out a file from his bag kept on the adjacent chair and handed it to me. "All his blunders, their implications, losses incurred, and Mr. Allen also included the opinions of the shareholders."

"Great. Check my schedule. Book a flight and a meeting with Mr. Carlson at the earliest."

"Okay, boss."

As I went through the pages, my phone rang. Within one a ring, it became irritating. I pressed my temples. "Get me an Aspirin, Liam."

"Look at the screen at least. It's someone who won't give you an headache."

"Eloise?" I frowned. Why would she call me? She hadn't in for a month. She shouldn't call me at all. Whatever we had was over, even though I was struggling to forget, even if she was the same. What if it was something urgent?

"Tch. How smitten are you, boss, to forget you have a daughter?"

I rolled my eyes and picked the phone. "Hey, cupcake? What's up?"