Page 8 of Merry with a Tycoon

I surprise myself with my answer. “Yes,” I hear myself say. “I’d like that.”

“Then I’m going to need your phone number.”

After exchanging phone numbers by texting each other (he goes first), Preston says goodnight and walks out.

As I close the door behind him, I lean against the door, my mind whirling. Preston-freaking-Hollister just asked me out on a date.

And did I just accept?

Why yes, I certainly did.

CHAPTER FOUR

PRESTON

Long shadows stretchacross my office as I sign the last document of the day, the setting sun casting a warm glow to the windows. I lean back in my chair, loosening my tie, and allow myself a moment to think about tonight.

Dinner with Crystal.

Last night’s impromptu dinner at her apartment plays through my mind like a favorite movie. The warmth of her tiny kitchen, the rich aroma of beef stew, the way her eyes sparkled as she checkmated me.

I didn’t want the evening to end, didn’t want to stop watching the way she bit her lip when she was considering her next move.

Who would have thought Crystal would get under my skin like this? I close my eyes and picture her: that long brown hair she always keeps in a ponytail. I find myself wondering what it would look like cascading down her shoulders, wondering if it’s as soft as it looks. Her smile, bright and genuine, so different from the polished smirks I’m used to seeing at business functions. And her figure... I shift in my seat, remembering how distracting it was watching her play elf at the WinterWonderland event, all curves and grace in that adorable costume.

A commotion outside my office pulls me from my reverie and I hear Stella’s voice, uncharacteristically flustered. “Miss Francia, you can’t just–”

The door bursts open, and there’s Crystal, her face flushed with anger, eyes blazing. Any other time, I’d be struck by how beautiful she looks, all fire and fury. But the rage in her eyes stops me cold.

“Crystal? What’s wrong?” I stand, concern etching my features.

“What’s wrong?” she echoes, her voice trembling with anger. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Preston. You used me. The Santa act, dinner with a normal person, the chess game—it was all just a cruel joke, wasn’t it?”

I’m stunned, completely at a loss. The memory of our evening together flashes through my mind—her laughter, the warmth in her eyes as we played chess, the spark I felt when our hands touched. How could she think any of that was a joke?

“What are you talking about?”

She lets out a bitter laugh as she tosses an envelope on the desk in front of me. “Oh, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

With shaking hands, I pick up the envelope and pull out the letter inside. As I scan its contents, my blood runs cold. It’s from Hollister Property Management, the subsidiary that manages Seaside Square. The letter outlines a rent increase—not just any increase, but a threefold hike. Those unable to meet the new rate are being ordered to vacate.

For a moment, I’m confused.

I didn’t approve this.

Then it hits me. This must be what Teddy was talking about the other day, her “brilliant” strategy to increase the company’s income tenfold and prove to me that she can be an asset tothe company. As my cousin’s smug face flashes in my mind, I feel a surge of anger—at Teddy, at myself for not paying closer attention.

“Crystal, this is a misunderstanding. I had no idea about this,” I say. “Let me make some calls, I can fix–”

“Save it,” she cuts me off, her voice sharp enough to make me wince. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. God, I can’t believe I actually thought you’d changed, Preston. That you cared about the community and about...” she trails off, but I hear the unspoken word: ‘me’.

I step around my desk, reaching out to her. The need to touch her, to reassure her, is almost overwhelming. “Crystal, you have to believe me. I would never?—”

She takes a step back, and the hurt in her eyes feels like a physical blow. “I really thought you’d changed for the better,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe how wrong I was. And I hate that I actually started to believe it.”

Before I can say another word, she turns and walks out, leaving me standing there, the damning letter still in my hand. The soft click of the door closing behind her seems to echo in the sudden, oppressive silence of my office.

I sink into my chair, running a hand through my hair. I need to fix this, and not just with Crystal. This rent hike could devastate Seaside Square, destroying small businesses that are the lifeblood of our community. The very community I’ve been trying to connect with, to understand better since that night as Santa.

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