Free The Successor by Stephen Frey Page A

Tricky Dick,” Graham continued, moving toward Allison. “He reminds me of President Nixon. Powerful but sneaky. Got that sly look about him all the time. Like you never know what he’ll do next.” She held out her hand as she reached Allison. “Victoria Graham.”
    “Allison Wallace. Nice to meet you.”
    “You’re probably too young to remember Nixon in any personal way,” Graham said with a sigh. “He’s probably nothing but a picture in a history book for you. Just those two quick vees as he stood in the chopper doorway that last time on the White House lawn.” She held her arms up and fingers out in the classic Nixon stiff-upper-lip, farewell pose. “Maybe not even a picture for you, now that I think about it.”
    “I don’t remember him,” Allison admitted, “but I’ve read about him and Watergate, all about the tapes.”
    Tall and statuesque with pretty white hair swept back on both sides, Graham made a striking first impression. Fifty-seven, she looked her age, but was still beautiful—even sexy—for an older woman. She had a high forehead, a sharp chin, and her mouth seemed stuck in a mysterious semismile. She spoke in an aristocratic Katharine Hepburn croak and gestured with her hands a lot. Allison had done a Google search on Graham this morning and found several photographs of her. She was pretty in those pictures, but was much more impressive in person.
    Allison’s Internet search had also turned up a litany of testimonials to Graham’s being a leader in the worldwide financial community as well as a ceiling-buster for women. The first woman to run a major U.S. insurance company, first woman to serve on five Fortune 500 boards at the same time, one of the first women to own a professional sports team. There were lots of firsts when it came to Victoria Graham, Allison had learned. Maybe Graham had the right to be a little eccentric about picking her officemates.
    Graham gestured at the alligator. “I’m sure you’d like to hear the explanation.”
    In fact, Allison was interested. Not just in the alligator though. “Well—”
    “I own a house on Marco Island down in Florida, and this little guy kept coming up out of the canal onto my lawn this past winter, scaring everybody half to death. We think he was after my cats because a couple of them disappeared. Almost took a chunk out of the pool boy’s leg one afternoon. But he’s so cute I just
had
to have him. So I had him trapped and flown up here. Unfortunately I’m not going to be able to keep him here at the office much longer. He’s growing too fast what with all the rabbits we’re feeding him. So, I’m building him a place out at my house in Connecticut. All climate-controlled. It’s very nice.”
    Allison’s eyes grew wide. “You feed him
here
?” This woman really was quite a character. Which hadn’t come through in the news articles—nor had Christian mentioned anything like that. Of course, that was Christian. He usually let you form your own opinions about people. “In your office?”
    “Well, of course. Where else would I feed him?” Graham asked. “You want to watch?”
    “No, no.” Instantly, Allison wished she hadn’t been so quick to turn down the opportunity. It might be interesting to see the hunt. It would be sad to watch a cute little rabbit die, but the alligator was going to get his dinner whether she was here or not. “But thanks.”
    “Fine, fine.” Graham headed to a big leather chair behind her desk. “Maybe one of the snakes when we’ve finished our meeting. The boa’s a lot of fun to watch, too. But sometimes it takes him a while to strike after we put the rat in there.”
    Allison glanced at the thick, coiled snake as Graham’s assistant came back in to deliver the soda. “Yeah, maybe,” she murmured.
    “I’ve always liked reptiles,” Graham volunteered, sitting down. “In fact, I thought I was going to be a biologist or even a zoologist when I went to college.” She raised both