After wrapping up the morning's events and working non-stop throughout the afternoon, Grace Spoelt received a call around five o'clock. She drove to a helipad by the Hudson River, where a conspicuous Black Hawk helicopter was already waiting.
Upon arriving at the estate in the northern suburbs of Greenwich, she found that Simon was still in a meeting and couldn't see her right away.
Grace wasn't the least bit upset.
Opportunities to see that little man were rare, and getting to stay at his residence a bit longer was fine by her.
Regrettably, she forgot to touch up her makeup beforehand. There was time on the helicopter, but the presence of the pilot made her too self-conscious. Fortunately, while managing the Glaralf mother and daughters earlier in the morning, she also took some time for her own maintenance. She assumed she still looked good now.
She wondered why he had suddenly called her over this time.
Becoming familiar with the place, Zoe Parks accompanied her in the living room, chatting while they waited.
They discussed the U.S. Department of Justice's recent announcement of an antitrust investigation into three new tech companies under the Westeros system. Grace's husband had mentioned it frequently lately, expressing concern. Zoe revealed that at the close of trading that afternoon, AOL's stock price had plummeted 6.3% in one day, and the combined market value of Cisco and AOL had shrunk by $6.7 billion. They lamented this while also marveling at the vast sum.
To him, though, it seemed inconsequential.
Zoe mentioned that he didn't care much about short-term stock fluctuations, focusing instead on the long-term prospects of the businesses.
She then asked Grace how she had been lately.
Grace responded with a single word: busy.
With a few months remaining until the third annual Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, and thanks to a certain man's support, the three newly appointed Victoria's Secret Angels under her management were gaining fame. Various collaboration invitations were pouring in, and she had plenty of resources to allocate to her other clients.
Recently, Kris Gough had taken another step forward by signing an endorsement contract with Victoria's Secret, becoming the sixth spokesperson outside of the original five, including Cindy Crawford. She primarily promoted the Victoria's Secret 'PINK' sub-brand aimed at teenage girls, perfectly fitting her doll-like face and pure image.
In addition, having been promoted to vice president of Elite's North American branch, she began taking on relevant managerial responsibilities.
All of this required more than ten hours of her attention daily.
Had she not received the call, she would have worked late into the night.
About half an hour later, Lady A appeared. This time, instead of taking her to the study, she led her to a different cozy living room. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, one could see the setting sun and the lush summer scenery outside.
The man was casually sitting on the sofa, reading a document.
Grace pretended to glance casually and noticed the word 'Trump.' This surname wasn't very common, and she quickly thought of the high-profile real estate developer in New York who frequently appeared on various TV talk shows and often boasted about running for president.
However, due to the major real estate downturn years earlier, his company had been struggling in recent years. She figured the little man might be planning to invest in his company.
The man didn't rise, just nodded at her. Grace felt a bit disappointed but still sat down on the nearby sofa.
After Alison poured her coffee and left, the man continued to focus on his document. Thinking he wouldn't notice, she quietly admired his handsome, chiseled profile and took a deep breath.
She felt hopelessly infatuated.
Moments later, sensing his gaze flicker, she quickly averted her eyes, pretending to be curious about his document.
He seemed to smile and asked, "Do you know this person?"
She nodded.
A playboy.
She couldn't say that—it might lead to misunderstandings.
Searching her mind for information, Grace said, "He's not a very suitable business partner. He's quite unscrupulous. You might need to be cautious."
Simon probed, "How so?"
Grace thought for a moment and replied, "Around the mid-80s, there was a well-known estate for sale in Florida. I forget the name, but it was built by the founder of General Foods and was once a presidential retreat, even listed as a U.S. historic landmark. The owner, facing financial troubles, wanted to sell it for $25 million. This guy wanted to buy it but offered less than a third of the price. The owner refused. Then, he somehow bought the land directly opposite the estate's entrance, fenced it off, posted 'Private Property' signs prohibiting entry, let it overgrow with weeds, and deliberately made it look a mess. You can imagine the scene. With the owner's financial situation worsening, they eventually had to sell the estate to him for $8 million."
Simon smiled and said, "Mar-a-Lago."
Grace's eyes widened slightly. "So you knew."
Her expression carried a playful hint of reprimand, typical of many women.
But it was just an excuse to openly admire his handsome face.
Men liked looking at pretty women, and women felt the same.
Simon didn't say more, sipping his coffee before addressing the main issue. "I called you over mainly for two things."
Grace nodded.
She wanted to say he could call her over for no reason at all.
Simon held his cup, leaned back on the sofa in a more relaxed posture, crossed his legs, and said casually, "Instagram. Do you know about it?"
Grace nodded. "Of course, it's a popular photo-sharing website. I even had my girls open accounts. It should be a good promotion platform for models."
"Exactly," Simon said. "They're planning an influencer cultivation program, artificially creating popular Instagram influencers in fashion, travel, fitness, food, and even pets. Given the site's user base, fashion is a focus, requiring cooperation with modeling agencies. Your agency has the richest talent pool and the necessary promotional and marketing foundation."
Noticing Grace's slight confusion, Simon added, "It's a win-win plan. Current Instagram influencers are mostly spontaneous. That's fine, but as you know, like reality TV, if it were entirely real, there'd be few viewers. So, it needs packaging and operation, guiding the majority through the popularity of a few. Although it's a new field, the promotion methods are the same. You can select a group of girls with a professional team for planning and Instagram will provide more traffic support. Then, Instagram attracts more users through these influencers, guiding site content trends, and you gain a group of well-known models."
Grace understood. She noticed some details in his words and asked, "Simon, are you saying not to use Kris and the others?"
Simon smiled. "If you want to focus all resources and efforts on them, I won't object. But I don't recommend it. Kris and the others already have a certain fame and a well-planned career path. Following this, they can become top supermodels. Even adding Instagram won't significantly boost their careers. However, don't neglect the internet platform. The digital age has begun, and falling behind means elimination. My suggestion is to choose a group of girls to focus entirely on the internet. Think about it—if these girls have millions of followers on Instagram, you can directly collaborate with fashion brands for paid posts without needing other monetization channels."
Simon had proposed the influencer cultivation plan during the Igrette Blog era, which had proven successful. The Instagram operation was just an extension.
With this explanation, Grace fully understood.
This was another big opportunity given by the little man in front of her.
Such cooperation could have been discussed with the top management of agencies like Elite, IMG, or Ford, but he gave it directly to her.
Unlike movie stars or pop singers, models have very narrow paths to fame, often needing to "leech" off celebrities, parties, red carpets, movies, and the like for exposure. It's a necessity; the world never lacks beautiful women. Without tying themselves to movie stars or pop singers, they're hard to notice by the general public who don't usually follow fashion.
Now, the internet era offers a new, independent display platform.
Grace wanted to say something, but Simon raised his hand slightly. "You can discuss the details with D and the others. Now, the second thing."
He pointed to a file in the coffee table's lower compartment. "This, take it to your husband."
Simon clearly didn't want to move. Grace didn't mind, retrieved the blue-covered file, and sat back down, glancing at him before opening it. She then naturally read aloud, "Versace?"
Simon took another sip of his coffee. "Versace, I don't need to explain. That file contains some information about the company, including sensitive details, like Versace's connections with the Italian Mafia."
Grace, understanding, stopped flipping through the file and waited for him to continue.
Simon smiled. "You can look through it, but the fewer people know, the better. I need your husband to find a partner in First Boston's investment banking division to persuade Gianni Versace to take Versace public. After finding the right person, contact me. The Westeros system will provide some support."
Grace waited a moment, then asked, "And then?"
Simon said, "That's it. You just need to persuade and assist Versace in going public. Ignore the rest."
Grace sensed there was more to it but didn't ask further.
With the main issues discussed, Grace didn't want to leave. She was about to find a topic to chat longer when she noticed his empty coffee cup. She stood up and pointed at his cup. "Let me refill that."
Simon smiled and handed her the cup.
When
their fingers touched, Grace felt a jolt of electricity.
Once again, she thought she was hopeless.
Aware of her feelings and knowing they were wrong, she couldn't help herself.
Perhaps he was a sorcerer.
Casting a spell on her.
Thinking nonsensically, she turned to the coffee table, aware he might be watching her back, feeling her body heat up, yet she couldn't help but showcase her best posture to please him.
After filling the cup, she turned to see him indeed watching her, his smile wicked.
Yet she felt no resentment.
As she handed him the cup, he didn't even lift a hand, so she kneeled on the carpet at his feet.
Forget it.
He reluctantly took the cup, sipped, then placed his arm on the sofa's armrest, still watching her.
She reached out, cupping his hand holding the cup with both hands, their eyes meeting, her mind buzzing. Remembering something, she whispered, "I, Kris and the others last time, I also got checked."
He released the cup, and she quickly took it, feeling his large hand grasp her slender neck.
The sensation of choking came.
Oddly, she was obsessed with this feeling.
Just like this.
Dying now would be fine.
Hoping he'd bury her in the backyard so she could always guard him.
Yes.
Maybe she could come out at night to scare him.
But he probably wouldn't be scared and would strangle her again.
Around eight o'clock, long after night had fallen, Grace insisted on leaving Greenwich and returning to Manhattan.
She didn't accept his offer to stay overnight, not even for dinner.
Her reason was to go home and be with the kids.
In truth, staying wouldn't be a problem. But she didn't want her husband to know she had something with him, and she didn't want her husband bothering him over it.
Even though it was late, she often worked late recently, as did her husband after his unexpected promotion.
As the woman hurried away, Simon dined alone, enduring Lady A's resentful looks.
After dinner, intending to watch TV before sleeping—he had an early flight to LA the next day—Neil Bennett suddenly arrived from the annex with news.
The message came from the covert guards watching over Sophia's family in Greenwich.
In recent years, Simon had also prioritized the safety of those around him. Sophia's family was naturally included. In addition to visible bodyguards, the Westeros family's covert surveillance team handled security tasks, with a group of covert guards permanently protecting Sophia's parents and two children in Greenwich.
Since it was protection, not surveillance, Sophia was aware of this.
In fact, the personnel were handpicked by her from the intelligence recruits she brought over from Europe.
Just now.
Something happened.
It touched Simon's reverse scale directly.
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