Page 39 of Christmas with My Ruthless CEO
My eyes drift across the room, automatically seeking Atticus. I find him near the beverage table, deep in conversation with Spencer Sullivan and Avery Bennett. Even from this distance, I can see the difference in him, his posture less rigid, his expression more open, his gestures more natural as he listens to Spencer's animated explanation of something.
Three weeks ago, he would have been mentally calculating how to extract himself from a conversation with the construction team. Now, he's genuinely engaged, asking questions, showing interest in people he once would have classified as merely functional to his corporate objectives.
As if sensing my gaze, he looks up, our eyes meeting across the crowded room. Even after two weeks of stolen moments, heated nights, and the growing comfort of waking up beside him, the intensity of his gaze still sends warmth cascading through me.
He excuses himself from Spencer and begins making his way toward me, navigating the crowd with the easy confidence that's second nature to him. I take a moment to appreciate how devastatingly handsome he looks in his tuxedo, the perfect cut emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean waist, the subtle burgundy accent in his pocket square matching my dress exactly.
"You're staring, Parker," he murmurs as he reaches my side, handing me a fresh champagne flute.
"Just admiring the view, Morgan." I accept the champagne, our fingers brushing. "Spencer seemed excited about something."
"The eastern expansion. They're ahead of schedule despite the snowfall." He leans closer, lowering his voice. "But I'd much rather talk about how incredible you look tonight."
I smooth a hand over the deep burgundy velvet of my gown, a far cry from the casual sweaters and jeans I've worn most of my life, but perfect for tonight's occasion. "You like it?"
"Like is an insufficient word." His eyes travel appreciatively over the sweetheart neckline, the way the fabric hugs my curves before flaring subtly at the knee. "You're breathtaking."
"You're not so bad yourself." I reach up to adjust his already-perfect bow tie, an excuse to touch him. "Very James Bond."
"Does that make you the Bond girl?" he teases, eyes warming.
"I prefer 'equal partner in espionage and excellent evening wear,' thank you very much."
His laugh draws glances from nearby guests, the sound still rare enough in public to cause surprise. Before he can respond, Tessa concludes her reading to enthusiastic applause, and Levi takes the microphone again.
"Thank you, Tessa, for those beautiful words." He raises his glass in a toast. "Now, I'd like to welcome the man who's become an unexpected but welcome presence in our community these past weeks, Atticus Morgan, CEO of Blackwood Industries' Winter Division."
Atticus squeezes my hand briefly before making his way to the small stage. I watch, chest swelling with pride, as he takes the microphone with the same confidence he displays in corporate boardrooms, yet with a warmth I once thought he reserved only for private moments.
"Thank you, Levi, and thank you all for welcoming Blackwood, and me, into your community." His gaze finds mine as he continues. "When I arrived in Hope Peak three weeks ago, I had a plan: establish the Winter Division headquarters, implement our business strategy, and secure the board's approval for full launch in January."
He pauses, a small smile playing at his lips. "What I didn't plan for was discovering that a corporate expansion couldbecome something far more meaningful, a true partnership between Blackwood and the remarkable community of Hope Peak."
Murmurs of approval ripple through the crowd.
"None of this would have been possible without the guidance and wisdom of someone who understands both worlds, your own Sloane Parker." He extends a hand toward me, and suddenly all the eyes in the room turn my direction. "Sloane, would you join me up here?"
Caught off guard, I feel heat rise to my cheeks. This wasn't part of our planned program. Nevertheless, I make my way to the stage, accepting his outstretched hand as I join him.
"Sloane has been the bridge between Blackwood's corporate goals and Hope Peak's community values," Atticus continues, his hand warm around mine. "She's reminded me daily that successful business isn't just about profit margins, it's about the people and places that make those profits possible."
The sincerity in his voice touches something deep inside me. This isn't the carefully scripted corporate speak I've heard him deliver countless times. This is Atticus speaking from the heart, publicly acknowledging what we've built together.
"Hope Peak has taught me many valuable lessons these past weeks," he continues, addressing the crowd but his eyes never leaving mine. "About community. About priorities. About what truly matters."
The subtext in his words isn't lost on me or, judging by the knowing smiles around the room, anyone else present. Our relationship may have begun as private, but in a town the size of Hope Peak, discretion has a short shelf life.
"So tonight, as we celebrate the holidays and the successful integration of Blackwood Industries into your community, I want to express my personal gratitude." He raises his glass. "ToHope Peak, for showing this 'ruthless CEO' that the bottom line isn't the only thing worth pursuing."
The crowd erupts in applause and cheers, glasses raised in response to his toast. As the background music resumes and Atticus leads me off the stage, I can't help but marvel at the transformation in him, and in us.
"That wasn't in the script," I murmur as we rejoin the crowd.
"I was inspired." His hand finds the small of my back, a casual intimacy that still sends shivers up my spine. "Did I embarrass you?"
"No," I assure him, touched by his concern. "Just surprised me. You're usually more..."
"Corporate?" he supplies, guiding me toward a quieter corner of the room.
