Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“You’re supposed to get a good look at what won’t exist a year from now.” I narrowed my eyes. “You could also get their names and find out what they hate about their jobs this week, so we can fix it before we poach them.”
“I thought you usually wait a few weeks before going in for the kill…”
“You of all people know this takeover is personal.” I finally turned around to face her. “Don’t you want to see them brought to their knees in our lifetime? Don’t we all deserve to see that?”
Silence filled the car—thick and unbearable, wrapping around the three of us with the topic we always avoided. It was the thought that kept me up every single night—the thing that shattered our worlds and tethered us together forever.
“I need some air.” Ciara opened the door, but then she looked at me before stepping out. “And yes. I want to see you ruin them like they ruined us.”
She slammed the door shut and crossed the street.
“I think I need some air, too.” Aaron rolled down his window. “Are you planning to stalk every Starbucks in the country, or just New York?”
“All of them.”
“And I take it you’re serious about running Sweet Seasons for the long-term and not selling it for parts?”
“I am, Aaron. Truly.”
“Well, in that case, I need three huge favors.”
“I’ll consider granting one.”
“First, don’t overload Ciara with too much Starbucks stuff. Given the emotional trauma, she should focus on Sweet Seasons far more.”
“I know that. Tonight is an anomaly.”
“Two, promise me that you’ll give this company your undivided attention until you get to where you want to be. No petty side quests, frivolous lawsuits, or vindictive drama.”
“You have my word on that. Three?”
“You immediately—and I do mean ‘do not leave this spot until it’s done’ immediately—redraft the introductory memo to your new staff.”
“Why would I bother doing that?”
“Because it’s the worst first-impression CEO note I’ve ever read.”
“Worst you’ve read in your entire life, or are you ranking it as my personal worst?”
“It’s both.” He shook his head. “Redraft it and let me read it first.”
“You should’ve launched your demand list with that one first.” I looked at my watch. “It went out three minutes ago.”
SIX
ANDREA
Memo: Hello from Harrison Cross.
If you’re opening this email, you are witnessing your company being taken over by a man who actually knows how to run a business.
You’re welcome.
As of tomorrow, all corporate employees are expected to arrive at headquarters at five a.m.
If you enter at 5:01 or later, do not bother clocking in.
Please turn around and go home.
You are fired.
This start time will remain in place until my Cross-style policies go into effect. This takeover will be completed in less than sixty days.
You’re welcome, again.
And before you ask, yes.
You are allowed to thank me for improving your work ethic whenever I see you in person.
Harrison Cross
CEO, Sweet Seasons Coffee
Founder & Owner, Cross Industries
SEVEN
ANDREA
Day #1 of the Company Takeover
The subway rattled on the train tracks, dragging me closer to a new era I wasn’t ready to start.
A five a.m. start time was unheard of at Sweet Seasons; our cafes didn’t even open that early.
Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up before six-thirty.
Over the weekend, I’d called every connection I’d ever made in this city—favorite customers, terrible-but-wealthy customers, and even some of Mr. Lewis’s friends I’d met—just to see if they had any open positions.
The only thing worthy of considering was a job as a weekend handling associate. Until they revealed the “handling” involved dead bodies at the county morgue.
I even called my former barista manager, but she refused to help me at all. She didn’t want to risk me “coming back and making the employees love [me] more.”
When the doors flung open at my stop, I didn’t move to get out. Instead, I stared at my phone and considered the other possibilities I could pursue.
Maybe I could float for a couple weeks.
I could get inspired and write a spicy romance novella that sells enough to cover a bill, charge to complete advanced calculus work for college students, or even—
Subject: Payment Past Due. Please Pay ASAP.
The email alert killed all my thoughts at once and forced me to exit the train.
Hopes and dreams were for rich people.
I rushed up the steps, emerging into a subdued Times Square.
The only signs of excitement were the flashing billboards and a man dancing in the street.
I soaked in the sights with every step, wanting to remember every scene at this point in my life before Harrison Cross became a major character.
As I rounded the corner by our building, I noticed several employees lining the steps. There were also suited men with flashlights at every door.
What the hell is going on?
Taking my place in line, I craned my neck every few seconds to see, but the view was blocked.