Simon's personal wealth had grown at a terrifying pace, but he had never been someone who chased short-term gains, so of course he wasn't going to reject Sofia's strategy.
After a brief discussion, Simon added, "Also, Sophie, you can probably guess I've made a huge pile of money in the Japanese market over the past half year. So Melisandre can start scouting other luxury brands worth investing in."
Sofia nodded. "I've been tracking developments across the industry. There are some suitable targets, but it's not the right time to move yet. Besides, Gucci still has enormous growth potential. I don't think we need to rush. If we invest in too many similar companies, it'll easily create internal competition. The next stage of Melisandre's expansion should focus on jewelry, watches, wine, or high-end cosmetics."
Leaning back into the sofa, Simon shifted into a lazy, relaxed posture, flipping through the documents Sofia had brought. "As long as you've got a plan. I'm going to try to return to a boss's proper job description, as much as possible. I'll just write the checks and wait for the results."
Sofia smiled. She knew he didn't feel like going further, so she stood. "Then I'll go help the boss prepare dinner."
"Go on. Still remember your true job as my housekeeper. I'll give you one more point."
Sofia shot him a soft, teasing look. "I remember every promise I've ever made."
Before Simon could react, she clicked away on her heels, tap-tap-tap, and disappeared down the corridor toward the kitchen. Simon watched the elegant sway of his housekeeper's figure vanish, and silently vowed, You little temptress, just wait.
This time Simon had brought eight bodyguards, split into two teams to provide twenty-four-hour security.
With so many people traveling with him, Sofia had chosen a few chefs and maids to handle everyone's daily needs. Simon had gradually realized this was unavoidable and stopped fussing over it. Since they needed access to the main villa, his only requirements were that they be women, not too old, not too hard on the eyes, and that they not wander into his line of sight for no reason. Everything else didn't matter.
It was only a one-week short-term job. Sofia joked privately that Simon's standards were actually pretty high, yet the people she'd found still exceeded his expectations. Two chefs and two maids, all women around thirty, and all in decent shape and looks.
When they first arrived in Milan, his female housekeeper had even whispered to him that all these women were single, in a tone that practically begged him to commit a sin.
Honestly, compared to Simon's current wealth and status, those requirements were nothing. Money problems weren't problems for him anymore. And he had no interest in these purely decorative "vases" hired to please the eye. Some tabloids had already noticed Simon's habit of hiring pretty female college students to manage his properties. The reason it never turned into a scandal was simple: he never met those girls in person.
When it came to women, Simon was actually very cautious. If a woman's background was unknown, if she wasn't smart enough, or if she might bring him trouble, he generally didn't touch her. Simon could take trouble now, sure. He just didn't want the annoyance.
After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room to watch TV and chat. Without realizing it, it was late. Sofia naturally stayed the night.
With both Jennys around, nothing happened.
They remained in Florence for two more days. When the timing was right, Simon and his group departed on the afternoon of October 1 and flew back to New York.
According to Cercei Capital's analyst team, the North American junk-bond crisis would erupt in the first two weeks of October, because United Airlines would have a massive fifteen-billion-dollar junk bond payment coming due in mid-October.
Over the past few years, United had issued more than six billion in high-risk junk bonds to finance acquisitions of New York Air, People Express, Frontier Airlines, and others.
The U.S. economy still hadn't fully recovered from the hit of the '87 crash. Michael Milken being investigated had also cut off the lifeline for companies that depended on rolling over junk-bond financing just to survive. Combined with United's own enormous debt load, it was nearly impossible to find other funding beyond those high-risk bonds. Cercei Capital's team concluded that United simply could not meet its bond obligations and would have to default.
And once United defaulted, it would inevitably trigger a domino effect across the North American junk-bond market.
Simon's memory of the crisis was even more precise. The "mini-crash" after the '87 crash had happened on October 13. He didn't think that date would shift much. United's bonds were set to begin repayment on October 16, and since they wouldn't have the money, no matter how they dragged it out, they would be forced to announce bad news before the due date.
October 13 happened to fall on a Friday. Announcing a default that day would give the market two days to absorb the shock, and it would also leave United one last sliver of hope: if the federal government intervened to prevent a broader collapse, United's crisis might still be contained. After all, two years ago, the government's rescue measures had been very timely.
In Simon's view, that hope was destined to be an illusion. The junk-bond market was two hundred billion dollars in size. The federal government couldn't possibly save it all.
After fully pulling out of Japan in early July, Cercei Capital's Funds Six through Ten had spent the last three months quietly laying traps in the North American bond market. To avoid attracting attention, over those three months they had used only about 3.2 billion of their five billion in capital.
Among all the financial derivatives positions, the only thing Simon was truly familiar with was the more than 32,000 short contracts they had built over three months in S&P 500 index futures. Since they were certain the stock market would crash in mid-October, index futures were still the safest arbitrage instrument.
As for everything else, the massive tangle of complex short contracts targeting the stocks and bonds of individual companies like Columbia Savings and Loan Bank, United Airlines, USA Today's parent group, Drexel Securities, and so on, Simon simply didn't have the professional knowledge or time to keep track.
That was where Janet displayed a talent that still surprised him. In daily life she was lazy and languid, yet she could keep the overall picture perfectly straight, even when leverage turned their positions into a web of contracts with a notional value exceeding thirty billion.
Just like the operation in Japan, Simon didn't expect Cercei Capital's positioning to remain absolutely secret.
But recently, the increased short activity around junk bonds had already been noticed by major financial media, and yet Cercei Capital's involvement still hadn't appeared in print. Clearly, anyone who had sniffed out the information was smart enough to make money quietly.
After they arrived in New York, Janet began showing up every day at Westeros Company's headquarters in Midtown Manhattan, using the excuse of conducting a financial audit of Westeros. In reality, she was directly taking control of Cercei Capital's sub-fund teams hidden inside Westeros. Simon, meanwhile, needed to keep an eye on Ghost and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, both currently shooting in New York. They'd started production in August and were expected to wrap around November.
Lower Manhattan.
Inside an apartment in SoHo, Ghost was filming everyday scenes between the male and female leads.
Simon had already spent three days reviewing the footage shot so far from both films and discussing revisions with the creative teams. Today he stayed on the Ghost set from morning to evening to watch the shooting in person. The new version of Ghost, from the leads to the director, was basically the original team, so Simon wasn't too worried about the film's quality.
As the afternoon approached wrap.
Demi Moore finished her last take of the day and came over to sit beside Simon in the rest area. After he finished a topic with the producer, she cut in. "Simon, the song you picked, Unchained Melody, with the pottery scene, it's going to be iconic. The soundtrack album for this film will sell like The Bodyguard, for sure."
Simon smiled. "Just the soundtrack? You have that little faith in the movie?"
"Of course not. Everything will be a hit," Demi said with a laugh, then leaned closer. "We're wrapping soon. Want to grab dinner tonight?"
Simon shook his head. "Sorry. I already have plans tonight."
"Then tomorrow night. You're not only staying in Manhattan for one day, right?"
Simon simply shook his head again.
Demi gave a disappointed shrug. When the producer at Simon's other side tactfully walked away, she leaned in and lowered her voice. "Simon, in that case, I'm going to my trailer to remove my makeup. Want to come with me?"
Simon had no interest in producing the kind of nonsense where an actor and actress "sneak around" on set until their trailer starts rocking and the whole crew is left awkwardly pretending not to notice. Besides, tasting was one thing, but he had no intention of getting tangled up with Demi too deeply. So he smiled. "Demi, my assistant is coming to bring me some documents. You'll have to go remove your makeup alone."
Rejected again, Demi still didn't give up easily.
If she could establish a lover relationship with this man who had already reached the pinnacle of American wealth and now held enormous power in Hollywood, her future path would be wide open. So she persistently slipped him a business card with her Manhattan address and contact information. Only after watching him put it into his pocket did Demi finally stand and leave.
That night was a dinner at the Reboulds' home, mainly to introduce Simon to Joseph Schlap, the head of Schlap Consulting. Westeros Company had already confirmed it would become the political consulting firm's largest patron. The first three-million-dollar payment had been delivered last month.
Schlap Consulting had also begun assisting with the New York mayoral campaign of David Dinkins, the candidate backed by Westeros.
The Federal Election Campaign Act imposed extremely strict limits on campaign donations. Businesses and financial institutions were prohibited from donating directly to candidates, and individual donations were restricted in all sorts of ways as well.
And yet, over the years, through political action committees and public-interest campaign funds, America's corporate giants and wealthy class had never stopped meddling in elections. Both major parties benefited from it, so naturally they had no incentive to patch those obvious loopholes. The cracks only kept widening.