Page 12 of Curvy Girl for Santa

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, indoinggood 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 façade.

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. Ineedher. 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.

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