Christmas with My Ruthless CEO (Christmas in Hope Peak #3)

Chapter 1

Atticus

Istand in the center of Blackwood Winter HQ's lobby, admiring how perfect everything looks, exactly how I had imagined. The stone fireplace crackles with warmth against the December chill, making the space feel less corporate and more like an upscale mountain retreat.

"Tell me you're impressed," I say out loud to no one in particular.

"I'd be more impressed if you hadn't texted me fourteen times during construction to adjust the height of that fireplace," comes a familiar voice from behind me.

I turn to find Sloane Parker, my best friend and now Project Operations Manager, leaning against the reclaimed pine reception desk.

Her honey-blonde waves are pulled into a messy bun, and she's wearing that burgundy sweater I got her last Christmas, the one that brings out the green flecks in her hazel eyes.

"It was thirteen texts, and the contractor had it wrong," I reply, not bothering to hide my smile. "The proportions matter."

"Heaven forbid we have a non-mathematically perfect fireplace in your corporate palace." She pushes off the desk and crosses to me, two Perfect Brews mugs in hand. "Black, two sugars, and don't you dare ask me if I remembered to time the brew."

I accept the mug, our fingers brushing. "I wasn't going to."

"Liar." She grins, knowing me too well. "You get this little crease right here...” she taps the space between my eyebrows, “...when you're about to micromanage something."

"I don't micromanage. I ensure excellence."

"Potato, po-tah-to, Mr. CEO." She takes a sip from her own mug, something sweet and spiced from the smell of it. "How was the call with Vivienne?"

I grimace. "How did you...”

"Marcus texted me. Said you were wearing your 'mother called' face."

"I don't have a 'mother called' face."

"You absolutely do. It's the same one you wore at that charity gala when she tried to introduce you to the senator's daughter.

" Sloane bumps my shoulder with hers. "What was it this time?

The eternal bachelor status? The lack of holiday spirit?

Your refusal to wear anything that isn't custom tailored? "

"All of the above," I sigh. "She's coming for the holiday gala."

Sloane's eyes widen. "Vivienne Morgan in Hope Peak? Our little town won't know what hit it." She pauses, studying my expression. "There's more, isn't there?"

I take a long sip of coffee; perfect, as always when she makes it. "She's on her matchmaking crusade again. Says a man in my position needs to be 'settled' to show stability and community connection."

"Ah, the 'find someone special' speech. Classic Vivienne." Sloane's tone is light, but something flickers across her face too quickly for me to interpret. "Should I start vetting potential candidates? There's a new ski instructor at the resort; very Swedish, very blonde."

"Please don't." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "The last thing I need is a holiday romance complicating this launch."

"God forbid you have some fun while conquering our quaint mountain village." She nudges me again. "Come on. The team's waiting in the conference room, and Jenna's been practicing her welcome speech for three days."

"How do you know that?"

"She FaceTimed me last night to run through it. Twice." Sloane links her arm through mine, pulling me toward the glass-walled conference room where I can see my team assembled. "I also brought Carly's pain-au-chocolat, so people will forgive you for being intimidating."

"I'm not intimidating."

"Tell that to Callum. Poor kid nearly spilled his coffee when you asked about the marketing mock-ups yesterday."

"That was a perfectly reasonable question!"

"It's not the question, Atticus. It's the steel-gray death stare that accompanies it." She pats my arm. "Don't worry, that's why you have me, to translate Atticus Morgan into human."

We enter the conference room, where Jenna Park immediately brightens at the sight of us. "There you are! I was just telling everyone about the community integration initiatives."

"Which are essential to our success here," I say, taking my place at the head of the table. "Sloane will be leading those efforts, given her connections in town."

Jenna beams. "Sloane already has us booked for the Winter Festival committee, the charity auction, and...”

My phone buzzes. Marcus, seated to my right, discreetly slides his tablet toward me. The screen displays a notification: Town Council Representatives - Arrival in 5 minutes.

"We'll continue this after the council meeting," I tell the team. "Everyone, review the community commitment package. This isn't just a formality; these relationships will determine how smoothly our operation runs."

As the team disperses to prepare, Sloane lingers by my side. "You're nervous," she observes, her voice low enough that only I can hear.

"I don't get nervous."

"Right, and I don't stress-bake at midnight. I know you, remember?" She straightens my already perfect tie. "These are my people, Atticus. They're going to be tough but fair. Just... don't be the Wall Street shark they're expecting."

"I'm not from Wall Street."

"You know what I mean." Her fingers linger at my collar before dropping away. "Be the Atticus I know, not the one on the Blackwood Industries website."

Something warm unfurls in my chest at her words.

Sloane has been the one person who's seen past my carefully constructed professional facade since we met three years ago at a business conference.

She'd called me on my bullshit within five minutes of the introduction, and somehow we'd ended up talking until 3 AM in the hotel bar about everything from corporate ethics to our favorite childhood books.

"I'll try," I promise. "But if they start with the 'corporate takeover' accusations...”

"Then take a breath and remember you're not just here to conquer. You're here to create something that benefits everyone." She squeezes my hand quickly. "Including you."

Two hours later, we're still seated in the conference room with the town council representatives. Levi Voss, their apparent spokesperson, hasn't stopped frowning since he arrived. This has been a long meeting and I’m ready for it to be over with.

"Mr. Morgan, while we appreciate the potential economic benefits of your winter resort, we need more than financial projections." Levi's voice is firm. "Hope Peak isn't just a picturesque backdrop for your corporate expansion."

I open my mouth to deliver my usual reassurances, but Sloane catches my eye from across the table. The slight shake of her head is all I need to recalibrate.

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Voss," I say instead. "Which is why I've asked Sloane to join my leadership team. She understands what makes Hope Peak special, and I trust her to ensure we enhance, rather than diminish, that."

Levi's expression softens marginally as he looks to Sloane. "You're vouching for this operation? For him?"

"With my whole heart," she replies without hesitation. "Atticus isn't like other corporate executives. He cares about doing this right."

I manage not to look as surprised as I feel at the conviction in her voice.

"No offense, Sloane," Levi continues, "but talk is cheap. We need to see real commitment to our community. Not just money, but presence. Participation. Heart."

"I'll be here through the holidays," I find myself saying. "Participating in local events, getting to know the community beyond the boardroom."

Levi exchanges glances with his colleagues. "Well, that's a start. We'll expect to see you both at the Winter Festival committee meeting tonight." He looks between us. "And the charity auction. And the children's holiday pageant."

When the council members finally file out, I turn to Sloane with an arched eyebrow. "The children's holiday pageant? Really?"

"Don't worry, I'll bring tissues for when you inevitably tear up at the little snowflakes' dance number." She grins, gathering her notes. "You did great in there. That wasn't so hard, was it? Showing your human side?"

"I feel naked," I mutter.

She laughs, the sound echoing in the now-empty room. "Hardly. Though I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who knows you're wearing a tuxedo under that jacket."

"It's not a tuxedo, it's a suit," I correct her. "And how did you...”

"I have eyes, Atticus. The cut of that parka couldn't possibly hide the Tom Ford underneath." She stands, gathering her tablet. "You do realize people wear flannel here, right? Real flannel, not the designer version."

"I'm not wearing flannel."

"We'll see about that." Her smile turns mischievous. "I have three weeks until Christmas to overhaul your wardrobe. Along with your reputation as the ice king of Blackwood Industries."

A knock at the door interrupts us. Spencer Sullivan stands in the doorway, work boots tracking a small dusting of snow across the polished concrete floor. Beside him is a younger woman clutching a clipboard, her neat ponytail and practical attire suggesting she's all business.

"Spence!" Sloane's entire demeanor brightens. "Perfect timing."

"Hope I'm not interrupting," the man says, his rugged features settling into an easy smile. "Just wanted to introduce Avery Bennett, our permit specialist. She'll be your main point of contact for the construction phase."

Avery steps forward, extending her hand with professional confidence. "Mr. Morgan. Ms. Parker. We're ahead of schedule on the eastern expansion."

I shake her hand firmly. "Excellent. And please, call me Atticus."

Spencer glances between Sloane and me with knowing eyes. "You two plotting world domination or just the holiday gala?"

"A bit of both," Sloane answers, linking her arm through mine with casual familiarity. "Atticus has just committed to full immersion in Hope Peak culture. I'm thinking we start with getting him in some proper snow gear."

"The horror," Spencer laughs. "Well, if you need a real mountain guide, you know where to find me."

After they leave, Sloane turns to me with determination in her eyes. "I hope you meant what you said to the council. About being here, really being here."

"I did." The certainty in my voice surprises even me.

"Good." She nods, satisfied. "Because I've staked my reputation on you, Atticus Morgan. Don't make me regret it."

"Have I ever let you down before?" I ask quietly.

Her expression softens. "No. That's the annoying part about you, underneath all that corporate ruthlessness, you're actually a man of your word."

"High praise from the woman who once called me 'emotionally constipated' at the Blackwood Industries Christmas party."

"You were! Standing in the corner judging the ugly sweater contest like it was a capital offense." She laughs at the memory. "But you've gotten better. Marginally."

"Thanks to your influence, no doubt."

"Obviously." She reaches up to straighten my tie again, though it doesn't need it. "So, we're doing this? Operation 'Convince Hope Peak That Atticus Morgan Has a Soul'?"

"I believe the official project title is 'Winter Division Launch,'" I counter dryly.

"Boring. My title has much more pizzazz." Her eyes sparkle with challenge. "Trust me, by Christmas, this whole town is going to see what I see in you."

"And what exactly is that?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She winks, already heading for the door. "Winter Festival committee meeting at seven. Wear something that won't make you look like you're about to foreclose on the venue."

I watch her leave, the faint scent of her vanilla perfume lingering in her wake.

Whatever I expected when I came to Hope Peak, it wasn't this, the tangled web of community expectations, my best friend's unwavering faith, and the strange feeling that I might actually enjoy stepping away from the corporate mask I've worn for so long.

One thing is certain: I'm going to win the town's trust. By any means necessary.

Even if it means letting Sloane Parker drag me to a children's holiday pageant.