Page 2 of Merry with a Tycoon

I need to find another Santa. Heck, at this point, anyone will do. Well, anyone who can fit into the costume that’s waiting for him in my office-slash-storage room.

Just then the door opens and a familiar tall, well-dressed figure walks into the shop.

He looks as impeccable as always: tailored suit, dark hair perfectly styled, his striking blue eyes taking in the Christmas chaos of the boutique. I’ve seen that look many times over as he’s browsed the shop, always polite, always professional. Always leaving with a trinket.

Preston Hollister.

But then, I’m transported back to the schoolyard, seeing him and his younger brother Brogan teasing my best friend Wilhelmina ‘Willy’ Genaro mercilessly. The old anger flares, but I push it down.

That was a long time ago, Willy would remind me if she were here, and people change. Heaven knows Brogan has for he and Willy are currently dating.

That development still gives me emotional whiplash sometimes, but to see her happily in love with her former bully-turned-Navy-SEAL-turned-lovestruck-boyfriend gives me hope that maybe she’s right. Maybe Brogan really has changed.

But has Preston?

Oh, I’m happy Willy’s happy, but forgiving Preston feels... complicated. Especially given what he represents—the Hollister empire of hotels stretching across the coast and expanding overseas, the very antithesis of small businesses like mine.

And then there’s Vivian, his girlfriend.Or is it ex-girlfriend now?The Love Beach rumor mill has it that they broke up months ago, but who knows? The heiress rarely hung out at Love Beach anyway, preferring to stay in New York City with her friends or partying on some yacht in the Maldives—or so her social media posts indicate.

I shake my head, reminding myself to focus on the task at hand. Preston’s relationship status is irrelevant to the current situation. What matters is that he might be my only hope to save this event.

Before I can second-guess myself, I plaster on my best smile and march towards him. “Excuse me, Mr. Hollister, may I ask a huge favor?”

“Of course,” he replies, smiling, “but please, call me Preston.”

“Preston, then,” I say, taking a deep breath.Here goes nothing.“I know this request is crazy but can you be Santa for a few hours? Our original Santa is... indisposed. And we have a crowd out there who’ve been waiting to meet the big man himself.”

“What happened to your original Santa?” Preston asks as the door opens behind him and one of his bodyguards who’s never too far away whenever Preston browses at the shop, steps inside.

“Let’s just say he was a little too full of Christmas ‘spirit’, if you catch my drift,” I reply. “I had to fire him before he turned our winter wonderland into a nightmare before Christmas.”

A smirk tugs at Preston’s lips. “That would have been unfortunate.”

“I can do it, boss,” the bodyguard says, his expression serious. “No need for you to do this.”

“I know, but I’d like to do it,” Preston says as the other man frowns. “By the way, Javi, this is Crystal Francia, owner of HarmonyWorks. Crystal, this is Javier or Javi as I call him, head of my security. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”

“Very nice to meet you, Miss Francia.”

“Please, call me Crystal. And it’s nice to meet you,” I say as my gaze goes from him to Preston. “So who will it be? You or Javi? The kids are about to go feral out there.”

“It’ll be me, of course,” Preston says as Javi, about to protest, sets his mouth in a straight line and nods. “Just show me where I can get dressed.”

As Preston follows me to the storage room, relief washes over me, quickly followed by a wave of panic as I realize what I’ve just set in motion. Reaching the door, I turn to face him, suddenly serious. “Look, you can still back out. Once you put on that suit, there’s no going back. You’ll be contractually obligated to love milk and cookies and tolerate screaming children on your lap for the next two to three hours.”

Preston chuckles. “Sounds like a typical board meeting—minus the milk and cookies. But not to worry, Miss Francia–”

“Call me Crystal.”

“Crystal,” he says, his lips curving into a grin that suddenly leaves me weak in the knees. “I’ve got this.”

CHAPTER TWO

PRESTON HOLLISTER

I’ve got this?

What the hell’s got into me? One minute I was in the car, listening to my cousin, Teddy Hollister, on the phone drone on about her latest idea for increasing profits involving some underperforming commercial property, and the next here I am putting on a Santa suit.

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