Page 28 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
“I feel that it will add to the plan you just outlined,” she continues.
Nodding, I sweep my hand in a gesture for her to go ahead. "Please do."
Alice presents the San Diego processing facility plan with a passion that transforms the dry data into a compelling vision, and I find myself watching her more than her slides, captivated by the spark in her eyes.
"The location is ideal," she explains. "It would cut distribution costs and create capacity for three new product lines we've been developing."
"What's the timeline for ROI?" asks Halston.
"We project break-even at eighteen months, with significant profitability by year three," Alice responds.
Halston frowns. "That's slower than standard for acquisitions in this portfolio."
"But substantially faster than industry average," she counters without missing a beat. "And the long-term benefits to brand growth and market share are considerable."
"Perhaps," Brendan says dismissively. “But there are more immediate returns to be gained elsewhere." He glances at me as if expecting support.
I can see Alice bracing herself, also expecting me to side with them. It's what I would have done in the past. But something about seeing her fight for her company — the way her eyes flash with conviction, the slight tremor in her voice that only someone who knows her well would notice — makes my decision easy.
So what if we’re taking a bit of a gamble by doing things her way? It’s not as if I can’t afford it.
"Actually," I say. "I think Alice's San Diego proposal has significant merit."
The room goes silent, and Alice's lips part slightly in surprise.
"But the standard approach—" Brendan begins.
"Isn't always the right approach," I interrupt firmly. "I didn't build a billion-dollar empire by applying the same formula to every situation. Each business has its own DNA, its own path to maximum value."
I hold Brendan's gaze until he concedes with a nod. “We’ll take a vote.”
The San Diego proposal passes, though not unanimously. As the meeting concludes, Alice keeps her face turned away from me, though I’m not sure what she’s hiding.
The board members file out, several clapping me on the shoulder with murmured congratulations on the acquisition, though I notice Halston's grip is a bit tighter than usual, his eyes a tad suspicious. When the room empties except for Alice and me, an awkward silence falls.
With a nod at me, she gathers her crutches, which she awkwardly positions under her armpits.
"Need a hand?" I offer, approaching her.
"I'm fine," she says automatically, then pauses. "But thank you. For the help the other day, and for backing me on San Diego."
"I meant what I said. It's a solid plan."
She studies me for a moment, as if trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. "I know you said you’d back me creatively and on Rooted Pantry’s vision, but I didn’t…”
“You thought I wouldn’t agree with you on the San Diego facility because it’s new?”
“Um… yeah.”
I consider deflecting, but there's something about the direct way she's looking at me that demands honesty. "Maybe hearing your presentation reminded me of someone I used to be. Someone who cared about building something meaningful, not just profitable."
A flicker of something crosses her face — surprise, maybe even a hint of the warmth we once shared. But it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
"Well, whatever the reason, the team appreciates it.” She shifts her weight, wincing as she puts pressure on her bad ankle.
Instinctively, I reach out to steady her, my hand on her elbow. She doesn't pull away immediately, and for a brief moment, we're standing closer than we have in twelve years, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo, still the same one she used in college.
Her eyes catch mine, and we stare at each other, time slowing down to a steady drip. The colors brighten, and I find myself being sucked into her gaze, drawn into–
