Page 53 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
ALICE
The private jet touches down on the Seattle tarmac with barely a bump, a testament to Oscar's pilot's skill — or perhaps to the ridiculous amount of money Oscar pays for perfection in all things. Not that I'm complaining. After three blissful days in San Diego, I've grown accustomed to the luxuries that come with dating a billionaire.
Dating. The word still feels strange, inadequate for whatever this is between us.
"What are you smiling about?" Oscar whispers against my ear, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist as we wait for the plane to taxi to its final position.
"Just thinking about how much I already hate flying commercial," I tease, turning to meet his gaze. "You've ruined me."
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs. "Give me time. I'll ruin you in all sorts of ways."
"Promise?" I murmur, leaning in for a kiss that he eagerly returns.
It's ridiculous how we can't keep our hands off each other. Three days of barely leaving the beach house — of making love on every available surface, of talking until dawn about everything we missed in each other's lives over the time apart, of simply being together — and I still want more. It's like my body is trying to make up for lost time, greedily consuming every touch, every glance, every kiss.
The plane finally stops, and the pilot's voice comes over the intercom announcing our arrival.
"Back to reality," Oscar sighs, pressing his forehead against mine. "You ready?"
"Not even close," I admit. "Can we turn around and go back?"
His smile is tender, almost vulnerable in a way that still surprises me. "Tempting. But I seem to recall someone lecturing me a few days ago about responsibility and work ethic…"
I groan. "I hate it when you use my own words against me."
The flight attendant discreetly clears her throat, informing us that we're clear to disembark. Oscar takes my hand as we descend the stairs to the tarmac, the Seattle drizzle feeling weird and out of place after the San Diego sunshine.
"Where's our ride?" I ask, noticing the absence of a car.
Oscar checks his phone, frowning slightly. "Running a few minutes late, apparently. Traffic is bad." He glances at his watch, then at me. "I need to make a quick call to check in with the office. I won’t be long.”
"Go ahead," I wave him off. "Take as long as you need. I should probably check my messages anyway. I've been ignoring the world for days."
He kisses me quickly before walking several yards away, phone already pressed to his ear, instantly shifting into business mode. I smile to myself, enjoying the view of his backside just as much as the view of his face.
I wasn’t kidding – I’m really not ready to go back to reality. I know that once I jump in, though, it’ll get easier. Like a pool that’s cold at first, but you just need to submerge yourself into. I love my job, love my career.
It’s just not the only thing I’m waking up for anymore, and while that’s weird, I also love it. A lot.
I pull out my own phone, which has been off since our second day in San Diego — a deliberate decision we both made to fully disconnect. As soon as it powers up, it begins buzzing frantically with notifications. Most are work emails that can wait, but I notice six missed calls from Sydney and a text from her that simply reads:Call me ASAP. Emergency.
My heart rate spikes. Sydney doesn't panic easily. If she's calling this an emergency, something is seriously wrong.
I dial her immediately, stepping further away from Oscar to hear better over the wind.
"Alice! Finally!" Sydney answers on the first ring, her voice strained.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" A half dozen scenarios race through my mind, ranging from her being in the hospital after an accident, to Rooted Pantry’s offices having burned to the ground.
"I'm… well, no. I've been better." She takes a shaky breath. "They're gutting the place, Alice. Mass layoffs. Started yesterday morning."
My blood turns to ice. This doesn’t make sense. Who is gutting the place? Oscar is in charge, and he’s been with me. There has to have been a misunderstanding.
"What? What are you talking about? Who's being laid off?"
"Almost half the team. Marketing took the biggest hit — they're 'restructuring' us into Oscar's existing marketing department." Her voice is bitter. “They're calling it 'streamlining operations'."
I feel dizzy, like the ground is tilting beneath my feet. "Are you?—"
