The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 225

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

I shook it. “And?”

“You made my Friday unpleasant.”

“Then you read it carefully.”

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His reluctant smile told me he had, and by the time the meeting began at two, I’d settled comfortably into the one part of today I knew how to handle: the numbers.

Elise walked us through Ashton Global’s revised assumptions while Rebecca challenged their timeline, and when Martin reached Australia, I’d already marked several places where their new model still relied on figures I didn’t trust.

“Your distribution capacity hasn’t changed,” I said.

Martin looked over the figures. “The utilization model has.”

“Because you lowered projected demand.”

“Based on updated Vantage data.”

I tapped the next column. “Which still doesn’t account for disruption during integration.”

“We’re not restructuring during phase one.”

“You will be.”

Martin folded his hands. “That’s a confident prediction.”

“Your numbers make it one.” I turned my tablet toward him. “At the volume you’re projecting, capacity exceeds ninety-three percent in the second quarter unless you restructure.”

His attention dropped to the screen. “Temporarily.”

“And only if nothing goes wrong.”

“That is generally how projections work.”

“No. That’s how optimistic projections work.”

Rebecca lowered her gaze to her notes, unsuccessfully hiding her amusement.

Martin leaned closer to the tablet. “What does Sinclair consider realistic?”

“Eighty-seven percent utilization or a slower integration schedule.”

“Both reduce the growth forecast.”

“Yes.”

He sat back. “Convenient for Sinclair.”

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9:45 Fri, Aug 28

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The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

“Unfortunately, arithmetic hasn’t developed corporate loyalty yet.”

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Rebecca laughed, but before Martin could answer, the conference-room door opened behind me.

Martin glanced past my shoulder. “Mr. Ashton.”

Of course he’d decided to show up after all.

I kept my attention on the tablet while his footsteps approached, although knowing exactly who was crossing the room made concentrating on the figures harder.

“Continue.”

His voice came from close enough that I finally looked up.

Zane had removed his jacket, leaving him in a white shirt that did deeply unnecessary things across his shoulders. His attention found me before moving to Martin, and whatever passed through his expression disappeared too quickly for me to identify.

“What are we arguing about?” he asked.

Martin gestured toward my tablet. “Ms. Smith thinks our Australian utilization model is too optimistic.”

Zane took the empty chair opposite me. “Does she?”

Those green eyes returned to mine, and I forced my attention firmly back where it belonged.

“Your second-quarter capacity doesn’t leave enough margin for disruption.”

“What disruption?”

“Staff turnover, supplier renegotiation, systems migration, regulatory delays. Pick one.”

“And you’re assuming all four?”

“I’m assuming pretending none will happen is irresponsible.”

His interest became unmistakable. “Show me.”

I turned the tablet toward him, but he barely glanced at it.

“Come around.”

Professionally, there was absolutely nothing unusual about the request, which only made my reaction to it more annoying.

I carried the tablet around the table and stopped beside his chair. Even seated, Zane’s large frame made the space feel smaller, and leaning over the screen brought me close enough to catch the clean scent of his cologne.

It wasn’t the one he’d worn at eighteen.

3/9

9:45 Fri, Aug 28

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Of all the things my memory could have supplied, naturally it chose that.

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“Here.” I enlarged the model. “Your forecast assumes Vantage maintains its current supplier performance through the transition.”

“It has for six years.”

“Under Vantage.”

“It’ll still be Vantage.”

“Owned by Ashton.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “Is that supposed to concern me?”

“It should concern the suppliers.”

The faint amusement on his face was horribly familiar.

“You think they’ll renegotiate.”

“I know they will.”

“How?”

“Because I’d renegotiate.”

“You’re not a supplier.”

“No, I’m someone who understands leverage.”

“I can see that.”

The quiet way he said it sent an unwanted flutter through my stomach, so I brought up the next figures before he could notice.

“Once Ashton owns Vantage, the suppliers know you’re committed. Walking away becomes more expensive for you, which gives them room to push.”

“Unless we replace them.”

“With whom?”

“We have alternatives.”

“Not at comparable cost. Your nearest Australian alternative adds eleven percent before transition expenses.”

Zane studied the figure before looking at Martin. “Accurate?”

Martin gave a hesistant nod. “Approximately.”

4/9

9:46 Fri, Aug 28

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

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I managed not to look pleased, although Zane’s attention returned to me quickly enough to suggest I hadn’t entirely succeeded.

“Something amusing, Ms. Smith?”

“Not at all.”

His gaze lingered on my face. “Your expression disagrees.”

“I can’t control my face.”

“I’ve noticed.”

The words landed far too personally for a conversation about supplier costs, especially when he continued watching me as though we were discussing something else entirely.

Martin finally broke the moment. “We can rerun the supplier exposure.”

Zane looked away from me. “Do it.”

I returned to my chair before proximity to Zane became another variable I had to account for.

The rest of the meeting moved faster once we left Australia, although Zane’s presence changed the rhythm of it. Every challenge we raised received either an answer or a question sharp enough to expose a flaw in our own assumptions. He didn’t need to dominate the room to control it; he knew the acquisition too well for anyone to bluff their way past him.

Unfortunately, competence had always been attractive.

“Your New Zealand projection is wrong,” he said.

I looked up. “No, it isn’t.”

“It assumes twelve months before meaningful competitor response.”

“Because that’s what the market supports.”

“Not after this acquisition.”

“You don’t control how quickly competitors react.”

“No. I control what they’re reacting to.”

Arrogant bastard.

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