Page 5 of Christmas with My Ruthless CEO
The question catches me off guard. I turn back to him, considering my answer carefully.
"Because Hope Peak is my home. And when a corporate giant decides to set up shop in your backyard, you have two choices: stand on the sidelines and complain or get in the game and make sure they don't steamroll everything you care about."
"Is that what you think I'm here to do? Steamroll your town?"
"I think you're here to make Blackwood Industries a fortune while establishing yourself as the golden boy who can balance profit with purpose." I meet his gaze directly. "The question is whether you actually care about the purpose part, or if it's just good PR."
"You know me better than that," he says quietly.
"I do. Which is why I'm here, helping you prove to everyone else what I already know, that underneath all that corporate armor, there's a decent human being." I smile to soften my words. "Even if he does wear ridiculously expensive suits to a mountain town."
His lips twitch with the hint of a smile. "They're not ridiculous. They're tailored."
"Keep telling yourself that." I grab my tablet from the table. "Winter Festival committee meeting in three hours. Wear something that won't make the local artisans think you're about to audit them."
"I don't have anything else," he admits.
"Then it's a good thing your best friend happens to know exactly where to find you some appropriate mountain attire." I grin as horror dawns on his face. "Meet me at the fire-pit lounge at six. I'm taking you shopping."
As I walk away, I check my phone again, another text from Levi:Mindy wants to know if your CEO friend has any food allergies. Family dinner tomorrow.
I smile to myself. Phase one of integrating Atticus into Hope Peak is proceeding nicely. By Christmas, if all goes according to plan, he'll be so embedded in our community that Blackwood Industries will have no choice but to respect our town's character, and Atticus himself might actually remember there's more to life than quarterly projections and board approval.
The thought warms me as I head back to the open workspace, where Brynn is arranging marketing mock-ups on a large corkboard.
"How's our fearless leader holding up?" she asks, pinning a photo of snow-covered pines alongside the Blackwood logo.
"About as well as you'd expect for a man who's about to trade boardrooms for community potlucks." I examine her designs, genuinely impressed by how she's balanced corporate sleekness with local charm. "These are good, Brynn. You've captured the essence of Hope Peak without making it look like a generic winter wonderland."
"Thanks." She steps back, studying her work critically. "I'm trying a few color schemes. The Blackwood navy and silver feels cold, but when we add this rustic red..." She pins up another version, and I immediately see the difference.
"The red one," I say decisively. "Atticus looks better in red anyway."
Brynn's eyebrow arches knowingly. "Does he now? And how would you know that Ms. Parker?"
I feel warmth creep into my cheeks. "Three years of friendship, countless corporate events, and an encyclopedic knowledge of what makes Mr. CEO look less intimidating to small-town folks."
"Uh-huh." Her tone suggests she's not buying my professional explanation. "And the fact that he's devastatingly handsome has nothing to do with your attention to his color palette?"
"I'm immune to Atticus Morgan's looks," I lie smoothly. "When you've seen someone stress-eat an entire cheesecake at 2 AM before a board presentation, the mystique kind of fades."
Brynn laughs, clearly not convinced, but lets it drop. "Well, red it is then. For purely professional, community-integration purposes."
"Exactly." I turn my attention to the campaign taglines she's drafted. "'Winter in Hope Peak: Where Luxury Meets Local.' I like that one."
"Me too. It acknowledges both worlds without suggesting one is taking over the other."
I nod, impressed again by her insight. "You've got a good feel for what we're trying to balance here."
"I grew up in a town like this before it got 'discovered.'" There's a wistfulness in her voice. "Trust me, I understand what's at stake for the locals."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from Atticus:If you try to make me wear plaid, our friendship is over.
I laugh out loud, typing back:No promises. I've already got a lumberjack beard on standby.
His reply comes instantly:I hate you.
I text back, smiling to myself.No, you don't,you'd be lost without me.
