Page 59 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

Just her name sends a complicated surge through my chest.

She's nothing like the polished, calculating women I'm used to.

She's fire. Passion. A whirlwind in cutoff jean shorts and a food truck that looks like it's been painted by a kindergarten art class after consuming too much sugar.

I shouldn't be this distracted.

I'm Troy Bellamy, CEO of Bellamy Hotels and Inns, a man who's negotiated and closed multimillion-dollar deals before breakfast.

I don't get "distracted" by small-town food truck owners with wild curls and even wilder spirits.

And yet.

My phone buzzes.

Emails pile up, each one a reminder of the massive buyout plan I'm about to completely upend.

Everyone will lose their minds.

They will have an absolute meltdown.

I'm proposing wepreservea town instead of exploiting it – a concept so foreign to our family's aggressive business model that it might as well be another language.

My phone buzzes again and I look down to see a message from my assistant.Are you ready sir? Meeting starts in twenty minutes.

I take a deep breath, my reflection showing a man caught between two worlds.

The polished corporate shark who once lived for the kill, and... whoever I'm becoming in Seaside Cove. Someone who sees value beyond spreadsheets and profit margins.

The thought should terrify me. And it does. But not as much as the idea of losing Skye.

What the heck is happening to me?

***

The gleaming glass doors of the corporate headquarters part like a judgment, and I step into the boardroom.

Nine pairs of eyes lock onto me—at least seven of them are vultures ready to pick apart my every word. The long mahogany table stretches before me like a battlefield, and I've never felt more like a lone soldier.

I adjust my suit and suppress a grimace.

Just days ago, I was in Seaside Cove, covered in Skye's spicy food truck sauce, feeling more alive than I'd felt in years.

Now, I'm back in this sterile world of glass and steel, where everything is calculated, measured, and brutally efficient.

My sisters, Mona and Lillian, sit at the far end. Mona, a crazy workaholic looks tired but supportive. Lillian just stares impassively.

Drew isn't here. He’s made it clear he wants no part of this corporate takedown, plus he’s not ready to leave his family to attend a meeting in New York.

"Mr. Bellamy," my father's old colleague, Robert Henderson, speaks first. His voice is a razor blade wrapped in silk. "We're eager to hear about the Seaside Cove acquisition."

Acquisition.

Such a sterile word for destroying a community's entire way of life.

I clear my throat, the sound echoing in the tomb-like silence. "Gentlemen, ladies. I'm here to propose something unconventional."

A ripple of murmurs. Unconventional is not a word they love.

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