Page 15 of Christmas with My Ruthless CEO
Something in her tone makes me glance up. "Fine. Why?"
She shrugs, too casual to be genuine. "Just curious. You and Atticus seemed... intense during dinner."
"We were discussing the community integration plan," I lie smoothly.
"Uh-huh." Her green eyes sparkle with mischief. "With your eyes? For two hours?"
Before I can formulate a denial, Callum approaches, tablet in hand. "Morning, Ms. Parker. Ms. Ellison." His professional demeanor cracks slightly when he spots the pastry box. "Are those...”
"Pain-au-chocolat," I confirm, pushing the box toward him. "Help yourself, Callum. And for the hundredth time, it's Sloane, not Ms. Parker."
He takes a pastry with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ms. Sloane." He glances between Brynn and me. "The mock-ups are ready for the final review. Mr. Morgan approved the red accent version last night."
"Did he?" Brynn's eyebrow arches knowingly.
"He said it was the strongest design," Callum continues, oblivious to the subtext. "Oh, and he asked me to give you this." He hands me a sleek envelope embossed with the Blackwood logo.
"What's this?" I ask, turning it over in my hands.
"No idea. But he said to deliver it personally."
My pulse quickens as I slip the envelope into my pocket. "Thanks, Callum. I'll look at it later."
After Callum returns to his desk, Brynn edges closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Secret notes now? This is getting interesting."
"It's probably just work stuff," I insist, though the weight of the envelope feels significant against my hip.
"Right. Because the CEO always sends 'work stuff' in fancy envelopes delivered by hand." She shakes her head, amused."You know, it's okay to admit there's something happening. The chemistry between you two is obvious to anyone with eyes."
I'm saved from responding by the arrival of Jenna, pink-cheeked from the cold, a stack of files clutched to her chest. "Morning, ladies! The council representatives just called, they're moving up the presentation to nine instead of eleven."
"What? Why?" I check my watch; 7:48 AM.
"Something about needing to assess storm damage on the north side afterward." Jenna sets down her files, helping herself to coffee. "Don't worry, everything's ready. Atticus has been here since five reviewing the slides."
Of course he has. Typical Atticus, processing emotions by burying himself in work.
"I should go check on him," I say, grabbing his coffee. "Make sure he's not revising font choices for the twentieth time."
Brynn and Jenna exchange knowing glances as I head toward the glass conference room, where I can see Atticus standing at the wall-mounted screen, back to the door. He's wearing the navy sweater from yesterday, the one that softens his corporate edge without diminishing his natural authority. His hair is slightly tousled, as if he's been running his fingers through it, a sure sign he's overthinking something.
I knock softly on the glass door before entering. "Brought reinforcements," I say, holding up the coffee and pastry box.
He turns, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my heart stutter. "Savior," he says, crossing to take the coffee. "I was about to send Marcus on another coffee run."
"No need to torture poor Marcus when you have me." The words come out more loaded than I intended. "I mean...”
"I know what you mean." His voice drops lower, eyes meeting mine over the rim of his cup. "Thank you."
We stand there, the air between us charged with everything we're not saying. He looks good, too good for someone who'sprobably been up since dawn overthinking our kiss as much as I have.
"Sleep well?" I ask, aiming for casual.
"Not really." He takes a sip of his coffee. "You?"
"About the same."
His eyes soften. "We should talk about...”
