Chapter 516
Chapter 516:
I made sympathetic noises.
I knew exactly what crash he meant. Two years ago, when I was still at Nyx Collective, Savannah Lane had lost so much hair over it, she’d started wearing a wig to work.
“I’m facing the same issues with Mira Joie,” I said. “I thought things were going well. Orders were coming in. Then I looked at the burn rate. I couldn’t believe how fast the money was disappearing p>
“Exactly.” Fabrizio nodded hard. “After I saw my first year’s financials, I put up a job ad for a CFO the next day p>
I pulled a worried frown. “Finance is a nightmare. Balancing the books is worse. I’ve got investors coming in a couple of months, and I’m scared of what they’ll say when they see my quarterly numbers p>
“You have investors p>
I nodded. “Just a few. People I know who chipped in when I started out.” That was a lie. Ashton was my only investor.
“The Accounts Receivable Turnover is going to give them a heart attack p>
“Maybe I can help,” Fabrizio offered.
“How?” I gave him a look. “Don’t tell me you’re a secret CFA p>
“If I were, I wouldn’t have nearly drunk myself to death over Valmont’s numbers p>
He smiled weakly. “No, but I know someone who is p>
“Thanks, but I’ve already got a CFA p>
“This one’s different p>
“Different how p>
“He knows how to polish the books. Make them look cleaner p>
“You mean, he cooks them p>
Fabrizio shook his head. “Nothing that crude. Technically, it’s not illegal. If anyone found out, there might be questions. But it’s not a crime p>
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“Huh.” My pulse picked up. This was the guy Silva needed. “What’s his name? Can you send me his contact info p>
“I don’t save his number. He doesn’t like that p>
“A business card then p>
“He doesn’t give those out p>
“Does he at least have a website? An office p>
“No site. But wait, let me think. I know his number starts with a 6. His office is p>
I leaned forward, eager to catch any detail.
Someone called my name. I ignored it.
Then someone tapped my shoulder.
I was so annoyed that I nearly snapped.
Assuming Silva had jumped the gun, I spun around. It wasn’t Silva.
“Ashton! What are you doing here p>
I couldn’t tell if I was more shocked or furious at the worst possible interruption. But I knew exactly how Ashton felt—‘murderous’ didn’t even begin to cover the look on his face.
I instinctively took a step back.
“Mr. L-Laurent,” Fabrizio stammered, having staggered to his feet and extended a hand. Even drunk, he remembered his manners.