Page 77 of When She Loves
She pulls out a USB from her pocket and slides it across the desk. “The financial model and all of our assumptions are here.”
I take the USB and plug it into my laptop. When I open the Excel file, it’s an effort not to show my surprise. “You made this?”
She sits down across from me and nods.
“How?”
“A lot of hours watching videos on YouTube.”
This financial model is better than most of the ones my capos show me whenever they have a new idea. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been promised there was no way for me not to make a return, only to look at the numbers and realize the idea is a dud.
I scroll through the spreadsheet and spend a few minutes playing with the assumptions. Everything Cleo said about the repayment timeline checks out.
I look up at her. “I’m impressed.”
She rolls her eyes. “What? Did you think I was a moron? I’ll have you know math was my best subject in high school.”
That’s news to me. “It was?”
“I was nearly top of the class.”
Interesting.I lean back in my chair. “Are you asking me to pay this?”
Her back straightens. “No. I’m not here to ask you for money. I already sent this to the supplier, but they won’t budge. I was hoping you could look at the contract and see if there’s anything there we can use. I’m apparently much worse at reading legalese than I am at the numbers.”
“Is that what this is?” I nod at the stack of papers.
“Yeah.”
I pull the papers toward me. “Let me take a look.”
Ten minutes later, I have no choice but to deliver bad news. “There’s nothing in the contract that will help.”
Her face falls.
“But I know this supplier. The owner is Gino Ferraro’s cousin. We’re invited to have dinner with the don at his house next week.”
“We are? Since when?”
“Since a few days ago. I’d like you to join.”
Her eyes light up. “Okay. I can talk to him about this then.”
“Good idea.” I glance back at the business model. “The six-month projection looks good, but I think there are some problems with your long-term view.”
“There are?” She stands up and comes to my side of the desk.
“Take a look.” I toggle to the correct sheet and walk her through my logic.
She bends at the waist and reaches for my laptop. I catch a whiff of her floral shampoo.
“Hmm.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “It’s possible I used the wrong numbers for the cost per square meter. I guess that should go down the more fabric we buy.”
I lean back in my chair and glance at her ass. Her skirt’s ridden up, nearly high enough for me to see her panties. My hand twitches. I’ve given her space after she fled from me that time in bed.
Be patient. Let her come to you.
But she did come to me, didn’t she? She’s here, late at night, the house empty.
