Page 1 of A Tycoon's Christmas

CHAPTER ONE

AMARA

I stood on tiptoe, stretching to hang a glittering silver snowflake on the towering Christmas tree. The scent of pine needles filled my nose, grounding me as I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my head.

“Mommy, can I help?” Austin’s eager voice piped up behind me.

I turned and smiled at my son’s bright blue eyes, shining with excitement. “Of course, sweetie. Why don’t you hand me the ornaments?”

Austin carefully passed me the delicate glass baubles, and a pang of guilt hit me. I should’ve been savoring these precious moments, but my mind kept drifting to the mountain of work waiting for me.

“Look, Mommy! This one looks like a star!” Austin exclaimed, holding up a crystal ornament.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, hanging it on a sturdy branch. “Just like you, my little star.”

Austin giggled, and my heart swelled with love. But even as I ruffled his blond curls, I couldn’t stop thinking about the upcoming meeting. When would I ever finish that presentation?

My gaze landed on my to-do list on the coffee table—tasks that seemed to multiply before my eyes. Decorate the penthouse, plan the holiday menu, finish shopping for gifts, prepare for the charity gala… the list went on.

“Mommy, why do you look sad?” Austin’s small voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.

I forced a smile. “I’m not sad, baby. Just thinking about all the fun things we’re going to do this Christmas.”

But even as I said it, doubt gnawed at me. How could I create magical memories for my children when work kept pulling me away? I wanted Austin, August, and little Journee to have a wonderful childhood—filled with love, laughter, and cherished traditions.

What if I’m not enough? I whispered to myself, the words barely audible over the soft Christmas music playing in the background.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. I’m Amara Del Rossi—successful businesswoman and devoted mother. I can do this. I have to.

I let out a breath, picked up my tablet, and started scrolling through Pinterest for holiday craft ideas. “Austin, sweetie, how would you and August like to make some paper snowflakes later?”

I knew August was probably in his room, nose-deep in the pile of picture books I had bought him. He was a regular little bookworm. Sweet Journee was napping.

Austin’s excited squeal was all the answer I needed. As I jotted down the supplies we’d need, I reminded myself that every moment mattered. Even if I couldn’t do everything, I’d make the moments I had count.

But the nagging voice in my head wouldn’t be silenced so easily. How long before work calls me away again? Before another crisis demands my attention.

I thanked God for Mrs. Lowell, whom Andrew had hired after the babies were born. She had the night off, but she was a godsend when it came to helping with the kids, even though I tried to be as hands-on as possible.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. One day at a time, Amara. One tradition, one memory at a time.

When I opened my eyes again, I surveyed the half-decorated penthouse. There was still so much to do but looking at Austin’s beaming face as he carefully arranged ornaments made it all feel worth it.

This Christmas would be different. This time, I’d find a way to have it all.

CHAPTER TWO

AMARA

The crisp winter air nipped at my cheeks as Andrew and I strolled down Fifth Avenue. Twinkling lights and festive window displays transformed the bustling street into a magical wonderland. I couldn’t help but smile, imagining our children’s faces when they’d see the enormous tree at Rockefeller Center.

“Look at that, Amara,” Andrew said, pointing to an elaborate gingerbread village displayed in a nearby window. “The boys would go crazy for that. We should bring them tomorrow.”

I squeezed his hand, happiness blooming in my chest. “They’d love it. Maybe we can even convince Journee to sit on Santa’s lap this year.”

Andrew chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Our little princess might need some coaxing. Remember last year’s meltdown?”

We laughed at the memory of Journee’s tear-streaked face both comical and adorable. As we continued our walk, I leaned into Andrew’s solid frame, savoring this rare moment of peace amidst our hectic lives.

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