Page 41 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
"Well?" I ask Alice, who's walking beside me, her notebook tucked under her arm. "What did you think?"
"I think it's perfect," she says, a rare smile lighting up her face. "The location, the infrastructure, the proximity to local suppliers — it's exactly what Rooted Pantry needs."
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself grinning in response. "I was thinking the same thing. We could have this place up and running within six months if we fast-track the permits."
"Four months," Alice counters. "If we're aggressive with the timeline and I oversee the buildout myself."
I chuckle. "Always pushing, aren't you?"
"That's how things get done." She shrugs, but there's a hint of pride in her voice.
We fall into step together, moving away from the industrial park and toward the more scenic streets of the neighborhood. Neither of us suggests calling a car or heading back to the hotel right away. It feels too nice to be outside in the late afternoon warmth, our business concluded successfully, a rare moment of harmony between us.
The sidewalk narrows, forcing us to walk closer together. Our shoulders brush occasionally, and each time sends a jolt of awareness through me that I try desperately to ignore.
"I've been thinking about the processing line," Alice says, breaking the comfortable silence. "There are some ideas I want to run by you. We could do it at dinner."
“I thought you didn’t like to combine work and meal times,” I tease.
Her cheeks turn pink. “Oh. Well– I…”
“It’s okay.” I grin at her. “You love your job. I get it.”
Her shoulders drop. “I think I was a little hard on you when I gave you grief at the party. We’re more alike than I care to admit, I guess.”
I study her thoughtfully. “Yes. I would agree with that.”
We pass a small park and wordlessly agree to enter, drawn to the quiet paths and benches. The late afternoon light filters through the trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of gold and shadow. A few locals are out walking dogs or jogging, but otherwise, the area is peaceful.
"You know," I say as we find a bench overlooking a small pond. "I'm really glad we're on the same page about this facility."
She sits down, setting her notebook and purse aside. "It makes sense for the company. I can't argue with that."
"You could if you wanted to," I point out, taking the spot next to her. "You've never been shy about disagreeing with me before."
She laughs softly. "True. But even I can recognize a good business decision when I see one."
Another comfortable silence falls between us. In the distance, a couple throws bread to some ducks, their laughter carrying across the water. I steal a glance at Alice, taking in her profile as she watches the scene. The tension that usually tightens her features is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if maybe we're turning a corner. For real this time.
"I got a job offer," she says suddenly, still looking out at the pond. "Just days ago, actually."
The statement catches me off guard, and I feel a cold knot form in my stomach. "Oh?"
She nods. "From Get Fresh. They wanted me to come on as their new COO."
Get Fresh — one of our biggest competitors. The implications hit me immediately. With Alice's knowledge of Rooted Pantry's operations and future plans, she'd be an invaluable asset to them. And a devastating loss to us.
To me.
"That's… quite an offer," I manage to say, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the panic rising in my chest. "When do you start?"
"I don't." She turns to look at me directly. "I turned them down."
Relief washes over me so intensely it's almost dizzying. "You did?"
"Mm-hmm." Her eyes search mine, as if gauging my reaction. "They said they'd heard about the acquisition and thought I might be looking for an exit."
I try to process this information. "And you're just telling me this now because…?"
