Harrison launches into his concerns immediately. They sound like Martin Hale’s talking points. “The leaked documents suggest the reconstructiveprogram operates at a loss. How does Rossi Industries intend to maintain sustainability?”
It’s a fair question dressed up as an attack. Martin’s fingerprints are all over it.
I start my response. The one Bree helped me draft last week. The framework she built on that stickied document that was better than what Paloma’s team produced.
“The grant program represents a strategic investment,” I explain. “While the direct revenue is minimal, the partnerships we’ve built have led to three of our top five licensing contracts. The ‘loss leader’ characterization in the leaked document was an internal shorthand that failed to capture the full picture.”
Harrison nods slowly. Not convinced, but listening. He asks about the timeline for the transparency review, and whether Martin Hale’s concerns have merit.
I handle it. Barely.
Then Harrison throws a curveball. “What percentage of your licensing revenue can be directly attributed to relationships built through the grant program?”
Fuck.
I know this number.
Bree put it in the prep notes she sent me this morning. But my brain is fried and the figure won’t surface.
“Thirty-seven percent,” Bree says quietly from her corner. “Over the last fiscal year. Up from twenty-two percent the year prior.”
Harrison’s eyebrows rise. He turns to look at her properly for the first time.
“And the projected growth for next fiscal?” he asks her directly.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Conservative estimate is forty-four percent, assuming we maintain current partnership momentum. The leaked document’s ‘loss leader’ framing failed to account for downstream revenue attribution.”
I stare at her. She’s not even looking at her on-screen notes. She justknowsthis.
Harrison turns back to me with something new in his expression. Respect, maybe. Or recalculation.
The meeting ends shortly after. Bree packs up her laptop and excuses herself. When she’s gone, Harrison shakes my hand.
“That one’s wasted on note-taking,” he says softly, glancing at her through the windows as she retreats. “She understood the strategic implications faster than half the executives I meet with. You should have her in more meetings. Not just taking notes.”
I blink at him.
“Just an observation.” He smiles. “Good help is hard to find. Especially help that actually understands what they’re hearing.”
He leaves.
I stand there like an idiot, staring at the door.
Even a hostile donor that Martin’s been cultivating can see what I’ve been willfully ignoring.
Bree is brilliant. She sees angles I miss.
And I’ve been treating her like trash because it’s easier than admitting I can’t stop thinking about the way she tasted that night in Tribeca.
I’ve been handicapping myself to maintain emotional distance.
Shewashired to be a secretary, though.
But that doesn’t mean a secretary can’t bemorethan just a secretary.
I just have tobe open to it.
“Open to it.”
