"Simon, I don't understand, why keep borrowing?" In the study, Sophia Fessey heard that Simon would keep buying Gucci shares with loans and objected: "Daenerys Entertainment must have made a fortune last year?"
Loans cost money.
A hundred-million-dollar principal at only four or five percent a year still piles up to tens of millions in interest. And dealing with banks takes time.
Sophia had already missed her chance on Château Latour; she wasn't about to stumble over Gucci.
Simon read her easily. "Daenerys Entertainment's profit has other destinations; I can't free it for you. You heard the call, Daenerys is raising another loan. Fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow, tell Amy to upsize it straight to two-hundred-fifty million. The banks won't balk, and we won't lose days".
Sophia nodded, her mind snagging on those two words, other destinations.
She was too clever to ask.
By now it was late; the deal was done.
Jennifer had stayed in the study the whole time. Sophia knew nothing would happen with the girl present, so she rose to leave, then remembered: "Simon, I almost forgot, what shall we name the company?"
A luxury conglomerate needed a fresh name.
They'd just agreed to register it in Switzerland, Europe's famous tax haven, bordered by France and Italy, the continent's luxury heartland.
Simon thought for a second, scribbled a word on a sticky note and handed it over. "Her".
Sophia read the long word: Melisandre.
"Melisandre", she murmured, looking up. "Simon, is this a woman's name?"
A faint, unreadable smile curved his mouth. "Yes".
The red priestess from Game of Thrones had left a mark; Daenerys was taken, Arya and Sansa were out, Queen Cersei was in reserve, so Melisandre it was.
Sophia, unaware of the lore, still caught the pattern: "Daenerys, Melisandre… you like classical women's names for companies?"
"Makes me look deep", he joked.
She rolled her eyes. "It's long, though, people might not remember it."
"A luxury-holding parent is better invisible. We showcase Gucci, not the shell above it. If the world forgets the name, so much the better".
Seeing the logic, she tucked the note into her bag and stood. "Then we're done for tonight".
"Room ready?"
Glancing at Jennifer, also rising from the sofa, Sophia smiled. "Of course, Jenny had it waiting when I arrived".
Jennifer had meant to stay nonchalant, but colour flooded her face and she avoided Simon's eyes.
Simon walked Sophia to the living Room, Jennifer trailing.
"Good night, boss".
At the door Sophia switched titles again, brushed a kiss across Simon's cheek while Jenny hovered behind him, then left.
Before Simon could savour the fleeting touch, Jennifer tried to slip away; he caught her waist and shut the door.
Hands braced against his chest, she stammered, "It's… it's late, you're up at six…".
He checked his Patek: 12:35 a.m.
They'd been intimate before, yet he still hadn't claimed her; tonight was no time to start.
Instead he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. "Reprieve granted, but you're my pillow tonight".
Soft warmth in his arms was the best antidote to a day of deals.
He woke at six, fresh after five hours.
Jennifer's Room was next door; the crew all knew. Still, she tiptoed to her own Room first, dawdled, then came down for breakfast.
To hide her blush she wore her gold hair loose instead of in its usual ponytail, only to find the look drew more eyes.
Blaming the man across from her for the smirk on his lips.
Despicable…
She picked at the salad he'd ordered. "You… you can't do that again, Janette will be mad".
He agreed easily. "Mm".
That, apparently, settled it.
She switched topics without thinking: "What are you going to do with that money?"
"That money" meant last year's Daenerys profit.
Though audits weren't final, two hundred million in cash had already moved to Westeros Company accounts, without denting operations, so all Hollywood was dying to know the real haul.
Jennifer, always nearby, knew the figure.
$200 million was only the first slice; after keeping Daenerys flush, the rest would follow.
She wondered if he planned another stock-market raid like the '87 crash.
No one was that naïve.
Daenerys, flush with cash, still borrowed to buy Blockbuster and now Gucci.
Then, some things aren't hard to figure out.
Right now, plenty of people are probably watching in secret to see if Simon Westeros is about to make another big move.
She knew the question was out of line; Jennifer would never have asked under normal circumstances. The words slipped out and she instantly regretted them, quickly adding, "You don't have to answer".
When Simon heard Jennifer's question, he felt a pang of resignation.
It wasn't aimed at the Female Assistant; rather, he was realizing that plenty of eyes were fixed on him. Ever since that manoeuvre in the index-futures market more than a year ago, someone had likely been tracking his every step.
After all, if they could latch onto another opportunity like the '87 crash, it would mean instant riches.
But how could a chance like that appear so easily?
Looking at the Female Assistant's anxious face, Simon smiled. "I'm no longer sure. Back in '87 I was a minnow, too small to sway the market, so I could read the currents clearly. Now, if I decide Japan's market will crash within a month and try to profit, I'd have to position myself. Thanks to '87, too many eyes are still on me; any move I make will leak out and create unpredictable ripples. Maybe everyone piles in short and the Nikkei buckles early, or Tokyo hears the rumours and braces, delaying the fall. Either way, my forecast fails".
In fact, what Simon was describing was Soros's famous 'reflexivity', the idea that market participants and the market itself shape each other, later laid out in The Alchemy of Finance.
Except Soros hasn't written the book yet.
Simon's explanation was plain enough; Jennifer caught on at once. She realized he already wielded enough latent clout to shift an entire country's financial markets.
After all, with a single stroke this self-made teenager had amassed more wealth than most families see in generations; under that kind of halo no one dares ignore his view of a nation's bourse.
After the '87 crash the Japanese market dipped briefly, then roared back. By year-end the Nikkei had broken 30,000, more than double its 1985 level of 13,000.
Two years ago Soros bet Japan would crack early and lost heavily when the call proved wrong.
Now, even above 30,000, the Nikkei keeps climbing, but everyone knows the air is thin: the average P/E tops 70, and Tokyo real estate has hit the eye-watering $12,000 per square foot.
Clearly, Japan is headed for a smash; the only mystery is when.
Jennifer digested his words, glanced left and right, then asked, "So you're saying Japan collapses within a month?"
"Just an example", Simon shook his head. "If I had to bet now, I'd still go long".
Bright as ever, Jennifer caught the subtext: "That money isn't earmarked for a short bet on Japan?"
Simon nodded. "After the crash every country slapped limits on index futures, Japan included. Even if I read the Nikkei's direction right, I could never again score the kind of windfall we saw in '87".
Most people assume his target is Japan and that he'll be short.
But in Simon's memory the bull has another year to run, topping 38,000 late this year. From 30,000 to 38,000 is only a 26 percent gain.
On Black Monday, North America's markets fell 29 percent, in a single day.
By comparison, even if his entry didn't distort the curve, the upside is too slim for the capital he commands.
Of course, it's all relative.
His real mark is next year's war in Kuwait and the Gulf War that follows.
Unlike the restricted equity-index markets, crude-oil futures still have no daily limit; the violent swings those two wars will bring are the next great chance to pile up wealth.
From stocks to futures, Western finance has always favoured no-limit trading; many of the emergency curbs after '87 will fade in a few years.
Jennifer caught the nuance again: "You weren't going to play, but now you've changed your mind?"
"Yep, changed it", he nodded. "Jumping in now to earn back the loan interest we've racked up isn't bad. Even if we lose, it won't be much, and it shows Simon Westeros isn't infallible, so maybe they'll stop watching me so hard".
What he didn't add was that the move would also camouflage his positioning in crude oil for next year.
Jennifer's face showed understanding. "And then?"
Simon reached over and tapped her nose. "Little girl, you already know too much".
Startled, Jennifer jerked back.
Realizing what he'd done, she flushed crimson, sneaked a glance around the Room, everyone seemed oblivious, and gave him a mock-stern glare. "Don't do that again. And I'm not a little girl".
Simon enjoyed her feigned anger, answered with an unrepentant grin, then said, "Call your dad when you get a chance and ask him to fly down."
Jennifer hesitated. "Can't we do it by phone? It's a full day from New York to Melbourne".
The Female Assistant felt for her father; of course she'd spare him the trip.
Simon considered. He hadn't planned to hide this round anyway, probably couldn't, so eavesdropping didn't matter. "All right, we'll do it by phone".