Dominic #2
Cliff and I met when we were nineteen-year-old college roommates with more confidence than sense.
We bonded over our drive to succeed in life and the desire to build empires that would dominate the Chicago skyline.
By the time he brought me home for the first Thanksgiving, Elena was just an awkward kid holding court at the end of the dinner table, arguing some point with her father while her mother tried to interrupt.
After college, I saw her occasionally at family events, weddings, holidays, one disastrous New Year’s Eve party where Cliff nearly set their family house on fire when he tried to light a blunt with a patio heater.
Then my business consumed most of my life, Cliff built his life around his family, and Elena disappeared from my regular orbit… Until now.
I try to keep my eyes focused on hers but god damn, Cliff’s little sister grew up.
I immediately push that thought aside, guilt replacing it for even noticing my best friend’s little sister is now a stunningly beautiful woman who is staring back at me with wide eyes.
She’s twenty-six. An experienced acquisitions strategist with an MBA, an impressive record, and no reason at all for me to think of her as Cliff’s little anything. The woman standing in front of me is composed, watchful, and beautiful in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I gesture toward the chairs beside my desk. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather look at the projections you sent.”
I stop. “You already reviewed them?”
“You attached them to the calendar invitation.”
“For context.”
“Yes. I used the context.”
She walks over to the conference table where I left the acquisition summary for a meeting later this afternoon. I follow, more interested than I was five minutes ago.
“Cliff said you’re looking for a change,” I say.
Her shoulders tighten beneath her jacket. It’s small. So small I might have missed it if I weren’t watching her too closely.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“My current position has stopped being the right fit.”
It’s a polished answer that tells me nothing.
I lean against the table. “What stopped fitting?”
Her eyes hold mine. “The company’s direction and mine separated.”
“Recently?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to decide whether my work is good enough to make the reason less interesting.”
There’s no attitude in her voice. No attempt to impress me with a rehearsed challenge. She means it and I like it.
I should push. Cliff called last week and asked me to meet with her because she needed out of her current company. He didn’t ask for a job, and I didn’t offer one. I assumed this would be a courtesy interview followed by lunch and a recommendation to someone in my network.
Now I want to know why she’s leaving. More than that, I want to know what she can do.
I pull out the acquisition summary. “You said you reviewed the projections.”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?”
“They’re wrong.”
I laugh, not at her but at her boldness. There’s zero attempt to hide the confidence in her answer. “Which part?”
“The growth assumption in year three.”
“That assumption came from the target company.”
“I know. It’s still wrong.”
She steps closer, turns the summary toward herself, and points to a line halfway down the page. Her fingernail is painted a pale pink that shouldn’t be distracting. I notice it anyway.
“They’re expecting retention to improve while simultaneously cutting the service team by twelve percent. It won’t. Their largest client accounts all require direct support, and two of those contracts renew before the projected savings begin. If service drops, retention drops with it.”
“They’re automating part of the support system.”
“Have you seen the system?”
“No.”
“Neither have they. It’s still in development.”
I look at the page, then at her. “You found that in the materials I sent?”
“I found the software announcement on their website. The rollout date is in the investor report.”
There’s the answer. She’s not just confident, she’s right and she’s exceptional.
She walks me through the numbers without notes, catches another assumption my team hasn’t questioned, and explains exactly how she’d restructure the deal before I remember I’m supposed to be interviewing her.
The prepared questions remain untouched on my desk. By the time she finishes, I already know I’m hiring her. I also know it’s going to be a fucking problem unless I get my thoughts under control.
She turns from the table. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do I get the polite lunch, or are you going to offer me a job?”
Not just direct and confident but a little impatient too. And completely in control.
I straighten and put space between us. Reminding myself of three very obvious and important reasons I need to let any attraction I have for her go: Cliff, this job, and eleven years.
I repeat them once in my head and decide I’ll keep repeating them until my brain has carved them in stone.
“You’re assuming there’s a position available.”
“You’ve had the same senior acquisitions role open for six weeks.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your website.”
“Anything else you found while investigating me?”
Her mouth curves. “Your executive biography uses the word visionary twice.”
“I didn’t write it.”
“I hoped not.”
I laugh again, and she smiles fully this time. That’s the moment I know the three reasons are going to need to become a rule.
The binder isn’t a secret anymore, and I can’t stop thinking about it.