Page 33 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
My office assistant, Naomi, pokes her head in. "Halston and Jack are here. They don't have an appointment, but they're insisting on seeing you."
I frown. Board members showing up unannounced is never a good sign. "Send them in."
Moments later, Halston and Jack stride into my office with the confident air of men accustomed to getting their way.
"Oscar," Halston booms, extending his hand. "Good to see you."
I stand to shake his hand, then Jack's. "What brings you two here without warning? Is there an issue I should know about?"
"No issue," Jack says smoothly. "Just thought we'd see if you were free for lunch. There are some ideas we want to run by you."
I glance at my watch. It's just past noon, and my afternoon isn't packed. Still, something about their casual drop-in feels calculated. "What kind of ideas?"
"The kind best discussed over a good meal," Halston says, clapping me on the shoulder. "Come on, we have a reservation at Omara in twenty minutes."
Omara is one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. Whatever they want to discuss, they're buttering me up for it.
"Let me grab my jacket," I say, closing my laptop. As much as I'd like to refuse, curiosity gets the better of me.
The restaurant is dimly lit and hushed, the kind of place where the waitstaff materialize exactly when needed and vanish just as quickly. We're seated at a corner table, away from other diners. Perfect for a private conversation.
After ordering — an eighty-dollar steak for Halston, sea bass for Jack, and the pasta special for me — Halston leans back in his chair, swirling his bourbon.
"So, Oscar, how's it going at Rooted Pantry? Any hiccups?"
I take a sip of water, considering my response. "It's proceeding according to plan. The team there is talented, committed."
"And the COO… Alice, is it?" Jack asks. "Is she being cooperative?"
I hesitate, not liking that A) he isn’t sure about Alice’s name despite meeting her the other day, and B) the tone of his voice suggests distaste.
"Alice has been a life saver," I say carefully. "She’s one of the best.”
Halston and Jack exchange a glance that immediately puts me on edge.
"That's actually what we wanted to discuss," Jack says, leaning forward. "We've been reviewing the organizational structure at Rooted Pantry, and we see some significant… inefficiencies."
"What kind of inefficiencies?" I ask, though I already have a sinking feeling about where this is headed.
The appetizers arrive — oysters for the table — creating a momentary pause in the conversation. Once the server retreats, Halston picks up where Jack left off.
"Potential redundancies, mainly," he says, squeezing lemon over an oyster. "The in-house team is bloated, especially considering the resources we already have at our disposal through the other companies."
My jaw tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. "Go on."
Jack pulls out a tablet and slides it across the table to me. "We've drawn up a proposal. In essence, we could cut about half of the current Rooted Pantry team — primarily in marketing, product development, and quality assurance — and outsource those functions to contractors or absorb them into existing teams at your other companies."
I scan the document, my appetite vanishing. The proposed cuts would eviscerate Alice's carefully built team. People she's hand-selected, trained, mentored. People whose names and stories I've heard her share in meetings, whose work she's praised.
"The numbers are compelling," Jack continues, mistaking my silence for interest. "We project an annual savings of approximately a million in the first year, rising next year as we streamline the work."
I continue scrolling through the proposal, my mind racing. From a purely financial standpoint, it makes perfect sense. The kind of move I've made countless times before in other acquisitions. The kind of move that's helped build my empire.
The kind of move that would confirm every worst fear Alice has about me.
I think of my parents' excitement at hearing Alice's name. How disappointed they would be to learn that not only does their son's college best friend not like him anymore, but that he's considering gutting the company she's built.
"What's the timeline you're proposing?" I ask, my voice carefully even.
