Chapter 498
Chapter 498:
“Of course, take all the time you need. Ask me anything. Although,” I got the hint. “Don’t worry. We’ll sign the deal before I leave Paris p>
Fabrizio gave me the whitest, widest grin I’d ever seen.
Valmont had an early Friday policy—people started disappearing after lunch. Back at the hotel, I downed two espressos and forced myself to open the laptop.
I focused on the cash flow statements—Valmont’s main issue.
I tried to focus, but words like “depreciation,” “amortisation,” and “EBITDA” started melting on the screen.
I physically held my eyelids open with my fingers and zeroed in on cash from operations. It looked solid. Positive and trending up.
No red flags so far.
I called Priya. “How’s the studio p>
“Fine. We had some walk-ins wanting custom jewellery. I told them you were away on business, took their numbers, said we’d get back to them p>
“Good. What about online orders p>
“Still coming in. New orders have slowed, though. The manufacturer says they need more time to source the stones for our designs. So we might get a backlog. I’ve reached out to other OEMs p>
“I know. But don’t rush. The current manufacturer’s reliable. Their quality is consistent. I’ll need to vet any new ones myself p>
“Got it p>
“How are the new assistants doing p>
“Still getting the hang of things. Admin and customer service are fine. I still have to handle most of the custom orders—it’s the jargon.” Priya hesitated. “I’ve been studying jewellery design books. Trying to get up to speed. But when the manufacturer said ‘Dora polish,’ I knew he didn’t mean the fish, but that’s about it p>
I laughed. “It’s fine. You’ll get there. Look up Oppi Untracht’s book—it’s basically the jeweller’s bible p>
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“Will do p>
“Has anyone been bothering you p>
“No. If you mean Daniel—he hasn’t been back since he found out you were in Paris. Though…” She lowered her voice. “I don’t think he’s given up p>
“Ignore him. If he shows up, call the police. I’ll be back in two weeks. Hold the fort p>
I promised her a commission bump and hung up before she got emotional.
“Back to numbers,” I muttered, staring at the screen. “Speaking of numbers…” I closed the Valmont file and opened a different email.
When Ashton returned, I handed him the freshly printed document.
“Take a look p>
He picked it up. “What’s this p>
“Prenup p>
She said “prenup.” I heard “divorce p>
I stared at the document in my hands. “Why p>
“Isn’t it standard practice? You gave me something to sign when we got fake married p>
“Exactly. ‘Fake’ being the operative word.” My voice barely rose above the roar in my ears.
What was she playing at? Drawing up an escape route before we’d even made it to the aisle? Did she really have that little faith in us?