Page 6 of A Tycoon's Christmas

The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. I crossed the room quickly, opening the door to find Melody standing there with a bottle of wine and a smile.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up the wine like it was a golden prize.

I smiled, grateful for the company. “Come in. I could use a distraction.”

She stepped inside, kicking off her boots and handing me the wine. “I thought you might. How are things with the company?”

“Complicated,” I said, leading her into the living room. “Andrew’s still in Tokyo, and I’m here, trying to keep everything running smoothly for the kids.”

Melody nodded sympathetically. “I don’t know how you do it. You’ve got three little ones and a husband halfway across the world.”

I poured a glass of wine each and sat down on the couch. “I’m trying to stay positive; you know? I just keep thinking that by Christmas morning, my husband will be back, and everything will feel right again.”

Melody sipped her wine, eyeing me carefully. “But it’s not just about Christmas morning, is it?”

I shrugged, not wanting to get too deep into my worries. “He’s got so much on his plate. I get that. But sometimes... it feels like work is always going to be the thing that comes first.”

Melody frowned. “That’s tough. Have you talked to him about it?”

I nodded, swirling my wine glass. “We’ve talked. It’s just... I know how important this deal is. But I also know how important our family is. I guess I just want him to remember that too.”

Melody leaned back on the couch, a thoughtful look on her face. “You guys will figure it out. You’ve always had a way of making things work.”

“I know we will,” I said softly, glancing toward the Christmas tree. “I have faith in my husband.”

CHAPTER SIX

ANDREW

The next morning a quick knock at my door signaled Kenta, my Japanese assistant, who arrived right on schedule. His clipboard was in hand, his demeanor was all business.

“Good morning, Del Rossi-san,” he greeted with a respectful nod.

“Ohayou, Kenta,” I replied in fluent Japanese, a skill I’d honed years ago. Though my accent wasn’t flawless, I knew it created a foundation of respect with my Japanese colleagues that words alone couldn’t capture.

We went over the day’s agenda: back-to-back meetings with our Tokyo partners, discussions on the revised terms, and a dinner arranged with the team later that evening. I was barely awake, but I knew the importance of moving quickly. Every minute here counted if I wanted to salvage this deal and make it home by Christmas.

With the contract printed and ready, the atmosphere in the room was electric as we gathered for the final signatures. As we moved through the formalities, I couldn’t help feeling a sense of triumph. This deal was more than just a financial achievement; it was the result of days of mutual effort, endless discussions, and countless compromises.

“Arigatou gozaimasu. You’ve made an ally in Japan,” Tanaka said, his voice filled with respect.

“And I hope a friend,” I replied, my words genuine. It had been a grueling few days, but moments like this made it worthwhile.

Tanaka raised his glass, a rare smile softening his usually stoic expression. “To our partnership, Del Rossi-san. May it benefit both our companies for years to come.”

I lifted my own glass, meeting his eyes. “To a successful future,” I replied.

As the evening wore on, our conversations grew more personal. I shared stories about my children, unable to hide my longing to be with them, while Tanaka spoke of his own family’s traditions. I respected how each of his team members took time to get to know their partners on a personal level, seeing it as an extension of business.

When the final document was signed, Tanaka extended his hand to me. “You have made a friend in Tokyo, Del Rossi-san.”

I took his hand, gratitude filling me. “I look forward to growing this partnership.”The signing felt like a victory hard-won. The entire Tokyo team seemed to exhale in relief, and even Tanaka allowed himself a small smile. We shook hands, the energy in the room now buoyant.

As we concluded, he offered a small, respectful bow, a gesture I returned with sincerity.

That evening, as I prepared to leave Tokyo, I glanced at the messages on my phone—photos Amara had sent of the kids, updates about their preparations for Christmas, and a final note from Austin saying he couldn’t wait to see me.In the quiet of my hotel room that night, I called Amara, longing to hear her voice instead of just exchanging messages. She picked up quickly, her tone brightening when she heard me.

“Andrew! Are you done? Are you coming home?”

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