Northwest Tasmania.
Along the Arthur River, which cuts through the island's pristine northwestern rainforest, a cluster of simple wooden cabins sat at the edge where vast farmland met dense forest. This was where Simon and Janet had been staying these past few days.
Not just the two of them, of course there were plenty of staff and security.
The infamous Heineken kidnapping six years earlier had made every wealthy person more conscious of personal safety; Simon, who had always felt a deep lack of security, was especially so. Across two lifetimes he understood how much unpredictable malice the world could hold.
The cabins had been built when he purchased the surrounding farmland and forest. Simon would have preferred something more refined in brick or stone, but that would have clashed badly with the untouched wilderness, so he let it go.
Many tycoons claimed that once money reached a certain level it became just numbers. To Simon that sounded like posturing.
More money simply meant greater freedom to enjoy everything society had to offer. The difference between a millionaire and a billionaire was night and day; between a billionaire and a hundred-billionaire, still vast.
Under Janet's strict supervision he had completely set work aside. For the past several days they had enjoyed, on this remote and still-backward island at the edge of the world, luxuries rivaling any top resort.
The northern hemisphere remained deep in winter, New York had just endured a blizzard, he'd heard. Here in midsummer, Tasmania's temperate maritime climate offered no trace of oppressive heat; it was the perfect escape.
Their base was less than thirty kilometers from the coast. They drifted down the Arthur River, spent a day aboard the Johnston yacht at sea, then trekked along the riverbank searching for platypuses.
They actually found a burrow. No one knew how to cook them, so they let them go.
On the last day of February, Simon and Janet flew by helicopter to a winery in central Tasmania.
The island produced excellent wines, held back only by its isolation from developing the thriving industry Europe enjoyed.
Janet had originally wanted a vineyard in Europe but found nothing suitable, so she carved out a modest twenty-hectare estate here and imported premium Pinot Noir vines from France.
Grape harvest was still a month away, but they tried their hand at most of the process from picking to fermenting.
Sophia Fache had arrived from Europe a few days earlier, partly because of Simon's collapse, partly for Gucci. Janet had kept her in Melbourne until today's winery visit, when she was finally summoned as advisor.
The three spent the entire day at the vineyard. Near dusk they boarded the helicopter again for the return northwest.
As they walked from the helipad toward the cabins, Sophia was still talking wine. "Tasmanian wines are truly unique. With careful management we could build a strong brand. The problem is that both vineyard maintenance and winemaking technique lag far behind Europe. Climate matters, but skill is critical too."
"If you think it's worth it, go ahead," Simon said, walking between the women. "Though I doubt any top winemaker would relocate to somewhere this remote. The whole island has barely half a million people."
Sophia opened her mouth to reply, but Janet cut in. "Sophie, I only just pried Simon away from work a few days ago. No shop talk."
"All right," Sophia conceded, then asked curiously, "Speaking of which, what exactly happened last time?"
At the question Janet suddenly looked embarrassed and avoided eye contact.
Simon smiled. "Nothing. Just exhaustion."
They reached the cabin door. The chef who'd come along asked what everyone wanted for dinner, mentioning fresh seafood just flown in from Melbourne.
Simon didn't much care and left it to Janet, then stepped inside.
After a full day he only wanted a proper shower.
The two-story cabin looked rough outside, some logs even sprouting new shoots but inside it was elegantly finished, fully equipped.
Simon showered upstairs, changed into fresh clothes, and came back down feeling refreshed.
The living room was empty; sounds came from the kitchen. He leaned in the doorway and saw Sophia making coffee. Despite the day's travel, her usual crisp OL style remained impeccable, as if she'd spent the day at a desk.
Janet often still seemed like a little girl. Sophia, by contrast, age, figure, personality, aura, radiated a dangerously alluring mature charm.
Simon rested against the frame, admiring her graceful silhouette, feeling a rising impulse he couldn't quite suppress.
Probably the forced abstinence Janet had imposed these past few days.
Privately she blamed herself for keeping him up too late the night before his collapse and had banned certain activities since.
Women are acutely sensitive to male attention. Sophia endured it a moment, pretending not to notice, then turned, cheeks faintly flushed. "Boss, don't you think staring at a woman like that is rather rude?"
Though she had once signaled openness and didn't truly object, in the past Simon had shown little interest. Yet now she clearly sensed something almost predatory.
The young man at the door was barely restraining the urge to cross the room and pin her against the counter.
Roughly.
Simon barely registered her words, gaze still openly appraising. The spell broke only when Janet's light laughter drifted in from outside.
His eyes cleared. He pointed at the coffeepot. "Ready?"
Sophia noted the sudden retreat of that charged aura, strangely disappointed, even curious but nodded quickly. "Yes."
"Pour me a cup. No sugar."
He turned and returned to the living room.
Sophia stood frozen a moment, then silently took a cup from the cabinet and poured. She hesitated, pettily added a sugar cube, immediately regretted it, poured a fresh cup, and carried both out.
Simon sprawled lazily on the long sofa, propped against a cushion, flipping through a book.
Sophia set one cup on the coffee table beside him and settled into an armchair opposite. She glanced at the title Walden vaguely recalling it as a famous essay collection, though she hadn't read it.
Searching for something to say, she heard Simon's voice. "You could shower upstairs if you want."
Sophia shook her head instinctively. "No, I'm fine."
A stray thought flashed: What if he walked in?
"Then tell me about Gucci."
Sophia had recently secured 63% of the company for $170 million.
Simon would have preferred full ownership, raising the extra capital would have been easy now but though the Guccis had agreed to relinquish control, most family members wanted to retain some stake for future gains if the brand revived.
Hearing the shift to business, Sophia glanced toward the door. "Janet just said no work talk."
Simon turned a page casually. "You need to understand, for a heavy smoker, forcing sudden quitting doesn't help the body; it backfires."
Sophia found the analogy amusing and smiled. "Things are… a bit complicated."
"Hm?"
"Gucci's problems are worse than I expected, financial chaos, over-delegation, brand dilution. Even the family: Maurizio Gucci, Paolo Gucci, they're tabloid regulars. The third generation is utterly rotten. To rebuild the brand, they themselves are a major obstacle."
"Normal," Simon said, unsurprised. He glanced at her. "Gucci has heritage comparable to Dior or LV both valued over a billion today. If the issues weren't severe, we wouldn't have gotten this much for under a $300 million valuation." He paused. "You're not about to tell me you don't know what to do, are you?"
Sophia avoided his eyes briefly, then met them again. "I need money, at least twenty million."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Reason?"
"My total liquid funds were only about $176 million. The Gucci stake cost $170 million, leaving just over $6 million. The company is badly weakened. I plan to streamline product lines, but killing some permanently would make revival nearly impossible, so even loss-making lines must continue for now. That takes cash. Also, Maurizio Gucci lived extravagantly, he hollowed out the company to fund his lifestyle and left substantial hidden debt. Most can be absorbed over time, but some needs immediate repayment."
Simon nodded, thought a moment. "Small stuff. I want to know your plan."
"While keeping core lines running, I'll start with fashion, especially womenswear. Once that revives, everything else benefits. I've identified several creative-director candidates; I'll meet them after leaving Melbourne."
"But signing them requires money, right?"
"Yes," Sophia admitted. "Many top designers are bearish on Gucci. To attract them we must show strength."
Simon continued, "Anything else?"
"Once the director's in place, next phase is this fall's major fashion weeks a critical chance to relaunch. I'll need Daenerys media support then."
"No problem. I'll tell Amy."
"Actually, Simon, after Batman wraps, I'd love you to visit Italy and offer advice. And for fall fashion week, if possible, I'd like you to personally shoot a Gucci ad."
Simon shook his head. "I don't know much about fashion and don't plan to spend much energy there. Sophie, you shouldn't either. Delegate to capable people. Your job is to steer, not worry your subordinates might outshine you, you should ensure they do. Once Gucci recovers, I'll invest more for you to acquire other brands and build Melisandre into a full luxury group. If you get bogged down in Gucci alone, you'll be tied to one brand. Then I'd have to find someone else to run Melisandre."
"I understand," Sophia said. "But this can't be rushed. I need Gucci to learn the luxury business thoroughly." She paused. "So about the funding and the ad?"
"I can give you the money. The ad, I'll see if I have time. If not, you'll find someone else."
Janet pushed the door open just then, catching the tail of the conversation. Instantly indignant, she hauled Simon up from the sofa and dragged him outside. "Dad sent Antarctic krill, still alive."
Simon let her pull him along helplessly.
Sophia watched them go, then rose and followed.
They stayed one more night on Tasmania. After a full week of rest, the group returned to Melbourne the next day.
Batman couldn't stay shut down indefinitely. March 1 marked the new month and Simon's return to filming.
Janet had planned to leave after his twenty-first birthday; with his empire expanding, her days were far less idle now. But after the collapse she stayed on, managing Cersei Capital for him.