Page 36 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
Her reply comes instantly:Alone?
It's BUSINESS, I type back emphatically.
Sure it is, she responds, adding far too many winking emojis.
I roll my eyes and set my phone down, turning to my computer to pull up the San Diego facility specs. If I'm going to be trapped with Oscar tomorrow, I need to be prepared. No distractions, no reminiscing about the past, and absolutely no noticing how good he smells or how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
This is about Rooted Pantry. About protecting what I've built.
As I review the facility documents, Rebecca's job offer floats back into my mind. Fresh Bites is stable, successful, and mostimportantly, not owned by Oscar. I could walk away from all this complication.
But then I think about the years I've poured into Rooted Pantry. The late nights, the risks, the pride I felt watching our products spread from local co-ops to national chains. How can I abandon it now?
My calendar pings with a new notification — Oscar has sent the details for tomorrow. Seven AM at a private airfield north of the city. It's happening.
I take a deep breath and close the Fresh Bites email folder. Whatever opportunities might be out there, Rooted Pantry is still my baby. And if that means enduring a day alone with the last person – and ironically also the first person – I want to spend a day with, then so be it.
Tomorrow will be strictly business. I just need to remember that.
CHAPTER 15
OSCAR
The waves lap against the shore below my deck as I pace back and forth, phone pressed to my ear. The evening air is cool against my skin, a perfect night. Ideal for a run around the neighborhood, but right now I have too many other things to do.
"Yes, I need the Blumhaus chocolates — the special reserve collection — not just the standard assortment," I tell my newest assistant, Margot, who typically manages my life outside the office. My free hand gestures emphatically even though she can't see me. "And make sure the Dom Pérignon Rosé is properly chilled before we board. The 2008 vintage, not the 2012."
I pause by the railing, looking out over Lake Washington. The city lights of Seattle shimmer on the water's surface, and for a brief moment, I'm struck by how beautiful it is. I've lived in this house for five years, but most nights I'm too busy to notice the view.
"And what about the massage therapist?" I ask, refocusing. "Did you book Elsa? She’s the best.”
"I'm checking her availability now, sir," Margot replies, her voice the model of efficiency. "She normally requires forty-eight hours' notice, but she may make an exception for you."
"Tell her I'll pay triple her usual rate," I say without hesitation. "And see if she can bring a second for Ms. Mackie as well."
"Of course, sir."
I resume my pacing, ticking items off my mental checklist. The trip to San Diego to inspect the potential processing facility is only a business matter, but having Alice on the jet with me feels different. Important. I want everything to be perfect.
Not for me. For her.
"The chef has confirmed the menu you requested," Margot continues. "The Wagyu beef tenderloin and a vegan option, as you weren't sure of Ms. Mackie’s preferences."
"Good thinking," I murmur, though I should know Alice's preferences. We were best friends once, partners. I knew everything about her — her favorite foods, favorite cheap beer, which bed she preferred when we crashed in the same hotel room during conferences. Now she's practically a stranger.
A stranger who looks at me with contempt.
I stop pacing, caught by a sudden thought.
Alice hates all of this — the wealth, the extravagance, the trappings of success. So what am I doing? Why am I trying to impress her by shoving more of what she doesn’t want in her face?
"Sir? Is there anything else you'd like me to arrange for the flight?" Margot's voice pulls me back to the present.
I stare at the skyline, thinking of Alice's disdain when I mentioned my private jet earlier today.
Her response replays in my mind, dripping with judgment. And suddenly, I understand exactly what I need to do.
"Margot, cancel everything."
