Chapter 5 Atticus
Atticus
Iwake to the gentle buzz of my phone on the nightstand, sunlight streaming through windows I forgot to close last night.
For a moment, I lie still, cataloging the unfamiliar sensations, muscles pleasantly sore in ways my regular workout never manages, the lingering scent of vanilla and something uniquely Sloane on my skin, and a sense of contentment so profound it's almost disorienting.
Last night wasn't a dream. After our encounter in the fire-pit lounge, I'd walked Sloane home through the snow-covered streets, neither of us willing to end the evening. And when she'd invited me up to her apartment this time, I hadn't hesitated.
The memory of her wrapped around me, hair spilled across her pillow, my name on her lips as she came apart beneath me sends heat coursing through me even now.
My phone buzzes again, more insistently. I reach for it, grimacing at the string of notifications, three missed calls from Marcus, a text from Jenna about the afternoon meetings, and a calendar alert reminding me of today's lunch at Skyline with Levi Voss and his family.
Lunch with Levi. The council representative who's been most skeptical of Blackwood's intentions for Hope Peak. And Sloane is supposed to join us, presenting a united front of corporate responsibility and local connection.
I glance at the time; 7:48 AM. Not late by most standards, but practically mid-day by mine. I never sleep past six, a habit ingrained from years of pre-dawn workouts and early board calls.
Throwing back the covers, I move quietly through Sloane's apartment, gathering my clothes from where they'd been scattered in our urgency last night.
I pause by her bedroom door, watching her sleep for a moment, honey-blonde waves cascading across the pillow, face softened in slumber, the sheet barely covering the curves I now know intimately.
The possessive surge that rushes through me is unexpected in its intensity. This isn't just desire, though there's plenty of that. It's something deeper, more consuming, a need to protect, to cherish, to keep.
I should wake her, but she looks so peaceful that I can't bring myself to disturb her rest. Instead, I move to her small kitchen, searching for coffee supplies. The least I can do is ensure she wakes to caffeine after I kept her up half the night.
Her kitchen is predictably chaotic, mugs hanging from mismatched hooks, a collection of flavored syrups lined up by the espresso machine, cookbooks stacked haphazardly on the counter.
It's the opposite of my minimalist apartment in New York, and yet it feels more like home than anywhere I've lived in years.
I'm just setting the fresh-brewed coffee on the bedside table when her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "You're still here."
"Did you think I'd leave without saying goodbye?" I sit on the edge of the bed, unable to resist brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She stretches languidly, the sheet slipping to reveal more skin. "Wasn't sure if you'd revert to CEO mode and sneak out for early meetings."
"I considered it," I admit, "but then I remembered I've seen you before coffee. Didn't seem fair to inflict that on Marcus and the team."
She swats my arm, laughing. "Rude." Her eyes fall on the steaming mug. "Though possibly forgiven if that's what I think it is."
"Black, two sugars."
"My hero." She sits up, holding the sheet to her chest with one hand while reaching for the coffee with the other. "What time is it?"
"Almost eight."
Her eyes widen. "Seriously? You let me sleep this late?"
"You needed it." I can't keep the smugness from my voice. "After last night."
A delightful blush spreads across her cheeks. "Don't look so pleased with yourself, Morgan."
"I'm very pleased with myself, Parker." I lean in, stealing a kiss that tastes of sleep and coffee. "And with you."
She melts into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. "We have lunch with Levi and Mindy at noon. And I need to shower, and change, and...”
I silence her with another kiss. "We have time."
Her eyes darken as she sets the coffee aside. "Do we?"
In answer, I pull the sheet from her grasp, revealing her completely to the morning light. She's even more beautiful than I remembered, all soft curves and sleep-warmed skin.
"Maybe a quick shower," she suggests, eyes gleaming with mischief. "To save time."
"Very efficient," I agree, already stripping off the t-shirt I'd just put on. "I like the way you think."
An hour later, we're finally dressed and heading toward the Blackwood Winter HQ building. The morning is crisp and bright, fresh snow glittering in the sunlight. We walk close but not touching, both aware of the public nature of Hope Peak's main street.
"So," she says, breaking the comfortable silence. "Are we telling people? About us?"
The question gives me pause. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest."
"The great Atticus Morgan, not thinking ahead?" She feigns shock. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"
"Your best friend got distracted by this amazing woman he's been trying not to fall for." The words come easily, surprising me with their honesty.
Sloane's steps falter. "Atticus...”
"Too much?" I ask, suddenly uncertain.
She shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. "No. Just... unexpected. You're not usually so forthcoming with... feelings."
"I'm trying something new." I bump her shoulder with mine. "How am I doing so far?"
"Not bad." She studies me, something soft in her gaze. "But you didn't answer my question. Are we telling people?"
I consider our options. The professional thing would be discretion, keeping our personal relationship separate from our business one. But the thought of pretending last night didn't happen, of maintaining distance around others, sits wrong.
"I'm not ashamed of this," I say carefully, "but I also know how quickly rumors spread in a small town. And how corporate gossip travels even faster."
She nods. "So, what? Business as usual in public, and..."
"And we figure out the rest as we go." I glance around, confirming we're momentarily alone on the snow-covered sidewalk, before catching her hand in mine. "But I'm not interested in hiding, Sloane. Not from the people who matter."
Relief softens her features. "Good. Because I'm terrible at secrets."
"I know. You told Brynn about my karaoke incident within twenty-four hours."
"That was different! Your rendition of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' deserved a wider audience."
I groan. "I was drunk."
"You were magnificent," she corrects, squeezing my hand before releasing it as we approach the HQ building. "And I have video evidence."
"Delete that immediately."
"Never. It's my insurance policy for when you get too CEO-ish."
I shake my head, unable to keep from smiling. This is what I've always loved about Sloane, her ability to tease without malice, to see the person beneath the position.
As we enter the lobby, we're immediately accosted by Jenna, who hurries toward us with worried eyes.
"There you are! I've been trying to reach you for an hour."
"Phone died," Sloane says smoothly. "What's up?"
"Your mother," Jenna says, turning to me. "She's here."
I freeze. "Here? As in Hope Peak?"
"As in sitting in your office right now, with Marcus trying desperately to entertain her."
Cold dread washes over me. "She's not supposed to arrive until the twentieth."
"Apparently she decided to come early. Something about 'scoping out the venue' for the gala." Jenna's eyes flick between Sloane and me, noting our matching expressions of alarm. "She's been asking about you, Sloane. Rather specifically."
I glance at Sloane, finding my own concern mirrored in her eyes. After last night, facing my mother's scrutiny is the last thing either of us needs.
"Right," I say, straightening my shoulders. "I'll handle this."
"We'll handle this," Sloane corrects, smoothing her hair. "If your mother's asking for me, I should probably make an appearance."
"You don't have to...”
"Atticus." She fixes me with a look I know better than to argue with. "I've met Vivienne before. She doesn't scare me."
That makes one of us. My mother has reduced many CEOs to stammering wrecks with nothing more than an arched eyebrow.
"Fine," I concede. "But let me do the talking."
Sloane's laugh follows me as we head toward the elevator. "When have I ever let you do all the talking?"
The ride to the executive floor is brief but tense. I can feel Sloane fidgeting beside me, her usual confidence wavering slightly at the prospect of facing my mother after spending the night with her son. I reach for her hand, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze before the doors open.
"You look beautiful," I murmur. "And she already likes you more than most of my colleagues."
"High bar," she whispers back, but her shoulders relax slightly.
We find my mother exactly where Jenna said she'd be, seated regally in my office chair, Marcus hovering nearby with a cup of tea that's clearly gone cold judging by his pained expression.
Vivienne Morgan looks up as we enter, her silver-blonde bob immaculate as always, pearls gleaming at her throat above a tailored navy coat that probably costs more than most Hope Peak residents make in a month.
"Darling, there you are," she says, rising with practiced grace. "I was beginning to think you'd fled the country to avoid me."
"Mother." I cross to kiss her cheek. "This is an unexpected surprise."
"The best kind." Her sharp blue eyes shift past me to Sloane. "Ms. Parker, lovely to see you again. You're looking particularly... vibrant this morning."
The slight hesitation is deliberate, I know, my mother never says anything without calculation. I tense, prepared to intervene, but Sloane steps forward with a genuine smile.
"Mrs. Morgan. Welcome to Hope Peak." She extends her hand, which my mother takes. "Had I known you were coming, I'd have arranged a proper welcome committee."