Chapter 2
Sloane
"Alright, everyone, gather 'round!" I clap my hands, drawing the attention of the Blackwood team scattered across the open-plan workspace.
Morning light pours through the windows, catching on the polished surfaces and making everything gleam with possibility.
"Day three of Operation Winter Wonderland, and we've got exactly twenty-two days until the holiday gala. "
The team, a mix of corporate transplants and local hires, forms a loose circle around me. I spot Callum Reyes hovering at the edge, clutching his tablet like a shield. Poor kid still looks terrified whenever Atticus so much as glances his way.
"First order of business," I continue, "permits for the eastern expansion are officially cleared, thanks to Avery and Spencer's team." A small cheer erupts. "Second, Brynn has mock-ups for the 'Winter in Hope Peak' campaign ready for review this afternoon."
Brynn Ellison steps forward, her auburn hair frames her face in a short bob style. "I've incorporated more local landmarks based on yesterday's feedback," she says, confidence radiating from her. "And I've got three tagline options that won't make us sound like we're colonizing the town."
I laugh. "Definitely an improvement over 'Hope Peak: Blackwood's Mountain Paradise.'"
"That was never actually on the table," Callum interjects, then immediately looks like he regrets speaking when all eyes turn to him.
"Of course it wasn't," I wink at him. "Because you and Brynn are smarter than that."
I watch Callum's shoulders relax slightly as Brynn shoots him an encouraging smile. There's a definite spark between those two that I'm going to have to nurture.
"Most importantly," I say, "we need all hands on deck for community integration. The council expects to see Blackwood at every holiday event from now until Christmas. I've posted the schedule by the coffee bar. Please sign up for at least two events each."
Jenna Park raises her hand. "Is Atticus really coming to all these events? Because no offense, but I've worked with him for three years and I've never seen him at a company picnic, let alone a town tree lighting."
"Oh, he'll be there," I promise, unable to keep the mischief from my voice. "Even if I have to drag him by his custom-tailored tie."
The group chuckles, and I can't help but smile, picturing Atticus's face when he realizes exactly what he's committed to. Three weeks of community events will either soften his corporate edge or drive him completely insane. Either way, it'll be entertaining.
As the team disperses, I check my phone. Three missed calls from Carly at Perfect Brews and a text from Levi: Council wants more concrete commitments. Make sure your CEO friend isn't just paying lip service.
I sigh, tucking the phone away. Everyone wants a piece of Atticus Morgan, the ruthless CEO with a reputation for corporate conquests.
Only I know the man beneath the tailored suits; the one who stayed up all night helping me prepare for my business school interview, who remembers how I take my coffee even when he's juggling multi-million dollar deals, and who sent flowers when my cat died even though he's allergic and claims to hate pets.
That's the Atticus I need to show Hope Peak. The real one, not the corporate shark the town is expecting.
My phone buzzes again, a text from Atticus himself: Conference room. Now. Mother crisis escalating.
I grab my tablet and hurry across the open workspace, narrowly avoiding a collision with a maintenance worker hanging pine boughs along the timber beams. The contrast between the rustic decorations and the sleek metal railings of the staircase catches my eye; a visual representation of the culture clash we're navigating.
Atticus paces the length of the glass conference room when I arrive, phone pressed to his ear, jaw tight.
"That's not what I...” He pauses, clearly interrupted. "Mother, the holiday gala is a business function, not a debutante ball." Another pause. "No, I don't need you to...” He looks up, spots me, and his expression shifts from frustrated to relieved.
"Mother, I have to go. My Project Operations Manager needs me urgently." He ends the call without waiting for a response, dropping his phone onto the conference table with a clatter.
"Project Operations Manager?" I raise an eyebrow, settling into a chair. "That's so formal for your best friend. I prefer 'Professional Atticus Wrangler' or 'Chief Officer of Making Atticus Seem Human.'"
"Very funny." He runs a hand through his dark ash-brown hair, disheveling it in a way that makes him look boyishly vulnerable, a rare glimpse behind the corporate mask. "She's bringing a guest to the gala. A woman named Charlotte Whittington."
"Let me guess. Impeccable breeding, MBA from an Ivy college, comes from old money, and is conveniently single?"
"Yale Law, actually. And apparently she's 'just perfect for me.'" He drops into the chair beside me, loosening his tie with an uncharacteristic display of discomfort. "This is exactly what I don't need right now."
"Poor Atticus," I tease, though part of me feels an unexpected twinge at the thought of him with some polished society woman. "Having to fend off beautiful, accomplished women your mother throws at you. Such a hardship."
He fixes those steel-gray eyes on me. "You know it's not about that."
"I know." I reach over, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Your mother means well. She just wants you to be happy."
"According to Vivienne Morgan, happiness requires a society-approved wife, 2.5 children, and a summer home in the Hamptons."
"And what does happiness look like to Atticus Morgan?" I ask, suddenly genuinely curious.
Something shifts in his expression; a softening around the eyes, a vulnerability I rarely see. "I'm not sure anymore. Success used to be enough."
"And now?"
The moment stretches between us, charged with something I can't quite name. Then his phone buzzes, breaking the spell.
"The council is requesting a formal presentation of our community integration plan," he says, checking the message. "Tomorrow morning."
I stand, grateful for the distraction. "I'll get on it. Brynn can help with the visuals."
"Sloane." His voice stops me as I reach the door. "Why did you leave Perfect Brews for this? You loved that coffee shop."
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."