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“I know.”
“How can I help?”
“Did you publicize my IPO at WeTrade?”
“Sure, it was bright and shiny on the homepage today.”
“Can you see how much stock is still retained by your users?”
“Skimming legality, yes, let me get at my computer.” I hear her move around her house, the scrape of a chair, the clicking of a keyboard.
“I can’t give you a number, but I can tell you it’s skimming the double digits.”
Enough to cause a 10 per cent value drop.
“Can you send a recommendation to all stockholders to sell at the market opening tomorrow?”
“That could drive the price into the ground; are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Then, yeah, I can do it.”
“How loyal is your user base? How closely do they follow your advice?”
“They’re as loyal as a Labrador on steroids.”
“Then I need you to stay tuned tomorrow, I have another idea in mind.”
No response.
“Mari, are you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry, just really tired, I got a different shot today, and it’s making me drowsy.”
“I’ll let you go back to bed. Sorry again for waking you. I owe you one, Mari, big time.”
49
GABRIEL
That night I don’t sleep. I spend hours cursing at the ceiling, not even knowing who I’m most angry at, Blake or myself. Part of me thinks the way she treated me was a tad unfair. But then the other part tries to imagine how I would’ve felt if she’d bought 7 per cent of my company behind my back, jeopardizing my business at the same time.
Yeah, I wouldn’t have been too thrilled either.
At 5a.m. I can’t stand the tossing and turning any longer; I throw the covers away from my body—severely displeasing Latte in my impetuousness—and get up.
The cat looks at me with slit green eyes.
“Well, you can join the line of complainers.”
I blow off some steam in my house gym and then go to work.
Mila is waiting for me in the lobby with a cup of coffee from my favorite shop and a paper bag that must contain a croissant.
“Morning, boss,” she greets me, if not exactly cheerful, at least not outright hostile anymore.
“Oh, so you’re talking to me again.”
