Chapter 6
Ryan
I slip out the back door of the community center, my heart pounding. Guilt gnaws at me as I picture Anastasia's radiant smile, her auburn hair glowing under the warm lights inside. She's busy hanging garlands, humming carols, completely unaware that I'm slipping out on her.
I scan the parking lot.
The sleek black Audi waits in the shadows. Frank, my driver, nods as I approach.
"Good evening, sir," he says, opening the door.
I slide into the plush leather seat, inhaling the scent of success and power. "To the city, Frank. We have a deal to close."
As we pull away, I force thoughts of Anastasia from my mind. Her curves, her laugh, the way she makes me feel alive—I can't afford distractions. Not now.
I pull out my phone, scrolling through emails. "What's our ETA?"
"About an hour, sir," Frank replies.
An hour to transform back into Ryan Caldwell, tech mogul and corporate shark. An hour to bury the man who loves small-town Christmas magic.
I loosen my scarf, feeling constricted. "Dammit," I growl, tossing it aside.
My fingers itch to text Anastasia, to explain. But what would I say? Sorry I'm actually a billionaire living a double life?
I laugh bitterly.
The car weaves through snow-dusted streets, city lights bleeding into a neon haze. Anastasia's laughter echoes in my mind, a siren call pulling me back.
"Fuck," I growl, fists clenching. Her warmth, her curves—they haunt me even now.
I close my eyes, recalling the softness of her skin, the way her green eyes sparkle when she smiles. It's addictive, that authenticity. So different from the cold, calculating world I'm hurtling towards.
"Sir, we're approaching the tower," Frank's voice snaps me back.
I straighten, steeling myself. "Right. Thank you, Frank."
The car glides to a stop. I step out, the biting wind a stark reminder of the life I'm choosing. The glass facade of Caldwell Industries looms above, a gleaming monument to my success.
I adjust my tie, slipping on the mask of the billionaire tycoon. With each step towards those revolving doors, I feel Anastasia slipping further away.
"Mr. Caldwell," the receptionist chirps. "The board is waiting."
I nod curtly, striding past. My shoes click on marble, echoing through the cavernous lobby.
But even as I ascend to the cutthroat world above, her voice echoes in my ear. Her smile is in my mind’s eye.
I grit my teeth, pushing the thoughts away. There's no room for small-town dreams in this glass and steel reality.
I step into the elevator, my reflection staring back at me from the mirrored walls. My jaw clenches, eyes hardening. This isn't the man Anastasia sees—this is Ryan Caldwell, billionaire shark.
"Focus," I growl, adjusting my cufflinks. "Billions on the line. No distractions."
But her curves, that inviting smile... fuck . I slam my palm against the wall, the sharp sting grounding me.
The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a bustling hive of activity. Phones ringing, heels clicking, the scent of ambition and designer perfume thick in the air.
"Mr. Caldwell." My assistant materializes, tablet in hand. "The Wang deal?—"
"Brief me," I snap, striding forward. People part like the Red Sea, averting their eyes.
She falls into step beside me, rattling off figures. "Their stock dropped 3% this morning. We can leverage?—"
I nod, mind racing. This is what I'm good at—the hunt, the kill. So why does it feel so hollow?
I picture Anastasia’s guileless eyes peering up at me so innocently.
I falter, just for a moment. My assistant notices, eyebrow raised.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
I school my features, squaring my shoulders. "Fine. Let's crush this deal."
But as I reach for the tablet, all I can think of is Anastasia's warm hand in mine, guiding me through a world of genuine connection and joy.
I shake my head.
I push through the conference room doors, a predator entering his domain. Suits stiffen, eyes dart my way. The air crackles with tension and expensive cologne.
"Gentlemen," I purr, sliding into the chair at the head of the table. "Let's make some fucking money, shall we?"
The screen flickers to life, numbers and charts dancing across it. But all I see is Anastasia's smile, warm as sunshine on snow.
"Mr. Caldwell, our projections indicate?—"
I blink, forcing myself to focus. "Cut the bullshit, Harrison. What's the bottom line?"
He stammers, caught off guard. "Well, sir, we stand to gain?—"
"Not good enough," I snarl, leaning forward. My fingers itch to touch Anastasia's soft skin instead of this cold, polished table. "I want blood. I want their company gutted and served on a silver platter."
The room falls silent. I can almost hear Anastasia's disappointed sigh.
I grip the armrests, knuckles white. "Well?" I demand, voice low and dangerous. "Are you all just going to sit there with your thumbs up your asses?"
The meeting lurches into action, voices overlapping as they scramble to impress me. But I'm adrift, lost between two worlds. The cutthroat billionaire and the man who found peace in a small town's warmth.
Anastasia , I think, closing my eyes for just a moment, what have you done to me?
The boardroom erupts into a frenzy of voices and flashing screens. I'm drowning in a sea of profit margins and market shares, but my mind keeps drifting to the curve of Anastasia's hips, the softness of her laugh.
"Mr. Caldwell, your input on the hostile takeover?"
I snap back to reality, my voice a low growl. "Hit them where it hurts. I want their assets liquidated by end of quarter."
The words taste like ash in my mouth. I imagine Anastasia's face, disappointment clouding those emerald eyes. But I can't stop now. This is who I am. Isn't it?
"Sir, the paperwork is ready," my assistant murmurs, sliding a stack of documents across the gleaming table.
I grab a pen, poised to sign. But my hand trembles, Anastasia’s image in my head.
She believes in seeing the good in people, in doing good to people. Second chances.
Fuck .
I slam the pen down. "New plan. We're going to save their company."
Shocked gasps fill the room. I stand, buttoning my jacket, heart racing. "Gentlemen, I believe we're done here."
I extend my hand to the stunned CEO of said commpany across the table. He grasps it, relief flooding his features.
"Thank you, Mr. Caldwell. I don't know what to say."
I force a smile, but inside, I'm aching to be back in that small town, wrapped in Anastasia's arms. This victory feels hollow, empty.
"Don't thank me yet," I mutter. "We've got work to do."
As congratulations erupt around me, all I can think of is Anastasia and getting back to her.
I stride out of the conference room, my mind already miles away. The glossy corridors feel suffocating, each step taking me further from her. Anastasia's warmth, her curves, her infectious laugh—they haunt me, making this world of glass and steel feel like a prison.
"Mr. Caldwell!" My assistant's voice cuts through my reverie. She hurries toward me, arms laden with documents. "These need your immediate attention?—"
"Not now," I growl, waving her off. The thought of more paperwork makes my skin crawl. All I want is to feel Anastasia's soft skin under my fingertips, to bury my face in her auburn hair and forget this facade.
My assistant's eyes widen. "But sir, the merger?—"
"Can wait," I snap, jabbing the elevator button. The doors slide open and I step inside, my reflection in the mirrored walls a stranger to me.
As the elevator descends, so does the weight of my deception. I lean against the cool metal, closing my eyes. Anastasia's face swims before me—those captivating green eyes, that inviting smile. God, what I wouldn't give to taste those lips right now.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. I need her. The urge to get back to her is a physical ache now.
As the doors open, I make a silent vow. No more secrets. No more lies. It's time to show Anastasia who I really am—and pray she'll still want me when she knows the truth.
I stride through the lobby, my footsteps echoing on the polished marble. The revolving door spins, and a gust of frigid air hits me like a slap. I inhale deeply, savoring the bite of winter. It clears my head, washing away the stifling atmosphere of the boardroom.
My heart pounds, each beat screaming Anastasia's name. I'm a man possessed, consumed by the need to see her, to touch her lush curves, to lose myself in her warmth.
The sleek black car idles at the curb. I slide into the backseat, my voice husky as I order, "Back to the community center."
As we pull away from the curb, I close my eyes, allowing myself to indulge in the fantasy of Anastasia. Her melodious laugh echoes in my mind, sending shivers down my spine. I imagine running my fingers through her silky auburn hair, breathing in her intoxicating scent.
"Fuck," I growl, adjusting myself in my seat. This woman has me wound tighter than any multi-billion dollar deal ever could.
I picture her green eyes, sparkling with mischief as she teases me. Her full lips, curved in that irresistible smile. The way her sweaters hug her delicious curves, leaving me aching to explore every inch of her.
My fists clench at my sides. Soon, I promise myself. Soon I'll confess everything, consequences be damned. Because a life without Anastasia isn't a life worth living.
The car slows as we approach the center, and I start to breathe again. I’ll see her soon, and then I can calm.
I step out, the crisp air shocking my senses. My gaze locks onto the building, knowing she's inside. My body thrums with need, every cell screaming her name.
"Ryan!" Anastasia's voice rings out, pure sunshine in this winter landscape.
I turn, drinking her in. She's bundled up in a emerald sweater that makes her eyes pop, snowflakes caught in her hair like a crown.
"Where'd you disappear to?" she asks, brow furrowed with concern.
I stride toward her, fighting the urge to crush her to me. "Just had to make a quick call," I lie smoothly, hating myself for it. "Couldn't stay away for long, though. Not when you're here."
Her cheeks flush, and I want to taste that blush. "Flatterer," she teases, but I see the heat in her gaze.
I take her hand, relishing its softness. "How about we grab some hot chocolate?"
As we walk, her curves brush against me. It takes every ounce of control not to pin her against the nearest wall and claim her lips.
Soon, I vow silently. Soon, I'll tell her everything. But for now, I'll savor this moment, this slice of heaven with my curvy angel.