Page 38 of Christmas with My Ruthless CEO
When noon approaches, I find myself checking the time more frequently than usual, eager to leave the confines of my office. Marcus notices, of course.
"The car is waiting whenever you're ready, sir," he informs me, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I've cleared your scheduleuntil four, with a window to return here before the tree lighting at six."
"Efficient as always, Marcus." I gather my coat, pausing at the door. "Thank you. For everything."
He inclines his head slightly. "My pleasure, sir. If I may say so, Ms. Parker is an excellent influence."
"She is," I agree, surprising myself with the readiness of the admission. "In more ways than I can count."
The community center is packed when I arrive, the air sweet with the scent of gingerbread and spices. Children of all ages proudly stand beside their creations, parents hovering nearby with cameras at the ready. The scene is chaotic, colorful, and completely foreign to my usual experience, yet somehow I find myself enjoying it.
I spot Sloane across the room, crouched beside a young girl explaining her gingerbread replica of what appears to be Blackwood Winter HQ, complete with tiny pine trees and a miniature coffee bar. The sight of her, animated, engaged, completely in her element, sends warmth spreading through my chest.
As if sensing my presence, she looks up, her smile widening when our eyes meet. She says something to the girl, who nods enthusiastically, then makes her way toward me through the crowd.
"Atticus Morgan at a children's gingerbread competition," she marvels, reaching my side. "I should document this historic moment."
"Very funny," I mutter, though I can't help smiling. "I'm here under duress."
"Liar." She bumps her shoulder against mine. "You're enjoying yourself."
"I'm enjoying being with you," I correct, voice low enough that only she can hear. "The gingerbread is a bonus."
Her cheeks flush slightly at my words. "Careful, or people will realize you're actually a softie under all that corporate armor."
"Only with you," I assure her, the truth of it resonating through me. "Always only with you."
The depth of emotion in my voice catches us both by surprise. For a heartbeat, we're alone in the crowded room, everything else falling away as our eyes meet.
"Atticus," she begins, something serious in her expression.
Before she can continue, we're interrupted by the mayor announcing the start of judging. The moment breaks, reality rushing back in with all its noise and obligations.
"Later," I promise, sensing the weight of whatever she was about to say. "We'll talk later."
She nods, professional mask sliding back into place as she leads me toward the judging table. But as we take our seats, her hand finds mine beneath the tablecloth, fingers interlacing with quiet certainty.
And in that simple touch, I find all the reassurance I need that whatever comes next, whatever challenges we face, whatever distance might separate us after the holidays, what we've found together is worth fighting for.
Sloane Parker has become essential to me, as necessary as breathing. And while I don't know exactly what that means for our future, I know with absolute clarity that there is no going back.
I am hers, completely and irrevocably.
And somehow, miraculously, she is mine.
Chapter 8
Sloane
"And now, to officially begin our Hope Peak Holiday Gala, please welcome Tessa with our traditional winter solstice reading."
Levi's voice carries across the elegantly decorated hall as Tessa, looking ethereal in a flowing silver dress, takes the small stage. The crowd hushes, champagne glasses pausing mid-sip as she unfolds a piece of parchment.
I stand at the edge of the gathering, taking in the transformation of Skyline's back room. What's usually a casual event space for locals has become a winter wonderland, with twinkling lights strung across the ceiling like stars, evergreen boughs and pine cones adorning every table, and an ice sculpture of the Hope Peak mountains as the centerpiece.
Blackwood Industries' influence is evident in the heightened elegance, but the heart of Hope Peak remains in every handcrafted decoration and familiar face. The perfect balance, just as Atticus and I envisioned when we began this journey.
"Hope is the thing with pine needles," Tessa begins, her melodic voice floating over the crowd. "That weathers throughthe snow, that bends but does not break beneath winter's weight, that reminds us green persists even in the deepest cold..."
