THE CEO’S CHRISTMAS CLAUSE

Elena Hartley had been trying to get a meeting with Adrian Kane for months. Since the first letter she’d sent, two weeks ago, her calls had been ignored, her emails unanswered, and her office visits met with polite but firm refusals. She’d tried everything to get an appointment, from scheduling a formal pitch through his assistant to showing up uninvited with her portfolio, but all of it had failed. Adrian Kane didn’t have time for small fish, and that was exactly what she was in his world. But when you’re desperate enough, you don’t care about pride. And today—just a week before Christmas—she had finally secured a slot in his busy calendar. When the call came from his assistant, she’d been decorating the small artificial tree in her studio, the same one she used every year because she couldn’t justify buying a new one. Glitter still clung to her hands as she picked up the phone. A strange mix of elation and anxiety surged through her. She had been given a chance… but what if she wasn’t enough? How would she convince a man like Adrian Kane to invest in her small, struggling business? Her heart raced as she rode the elevator up to his top-floor office, her mind still reeling from the significance of this moment. Outside, the December wind howled. Inside, the air was biting cold with the kind of chill that had nothing to do with weather—wealth could be frigid too. She’d rehearsed this moment endlessly. Her pitch, the numbers, even the precise moment she should smile. Everything had to be perfect. This was her company’s last hope. The elevator chimed, a crisp and elegant sound that echoed through the silence. The doors slid open, revealing a hallway lined with frosted glass panels. A silver Christmas wreath hung beside the office entrance, immaculately symmetrical—as if joy itself had been measured with a ruler. Elena’s heels clicked against the marble floors as she approached the doors of the CEO’s office. The scent of pine and cinnamon drifted faintly from a distant lobby display, but here… nothing. No warmth. No music. No Christmas spirit. When she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was how cold it felt; not just in temperature, but in energy. The office was impeccably decorated in deep charcoals and whites, and though a massive Christmas tree stood near the windows, it was all icy blue lights and glass ornaments. Beautiful, but lifeless. Like a holiday postcard with the laughter edited out. And behind a polished mahogany desk sat the man she had fought so hard to meet. Adrian Kane sat behind a polished mahogany desk, looking every bit the ruthless CEO his reputation suggested. The thirty-year-old man was all sharp angles from his tailored suit to the perfect lines of his jaw, the calculated look in his eyes. He didn’t rise as she entered, didn’t even acknowledge her presence with more than a glance before turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. His assistant, David, who had escorted her in, spoke first. “Mr. Kane, this is Elena Hartley, the interior designer.” Adrian gave a slight nod, his lips barely twitching. “Ms. Hartley,” he said in a tone that was professional, but distant. “Please, take a seat. Let’s get this over with.” Elena forced a smile, her nerves barely under control. She straightened her blazer as she walked to the chair opposite his desk, sitting down with the poise of someone far more confident than she felt. She had come this far. She could do this. “I appreciate you making time to meet with me, Mr. Kane,” she began, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. “I know you’re busy, and I won’t take much of your time.” Adrian’s eyes flicked to her, and then back to the papers he was reviewing. “Get to the point, Ms. Hartley. I have more important things to do.” She nodded, forcing herself to remain calm. “Of course. I run Hartley Design, a small but reputable interior design studio. We’ve worked with a number of high-profile clients, but recently, due to some unforeseen circumstances, we’ve fallen into financial trouble. My company is facing a serious cash flow issue, and I’m seeking an investor who can help us stay afloat.” He didn’t react immediately. Instead, he steepled his fingers, looking at her through narrowed eyes. “And what makes you think I’m the person to help you?” “I’ve done my research,” Elena replied, meeting his gaze directly. “Kane Enterprises has a reputation for turning businesses around. You’ve worked with startups before, helping them scale in a way that brings both profits and prestige. And I believe Hartley Design has the potential to do the same, if it had the right backing.” Adrian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying her with a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through her. He was assessing, calculating, as if every word she spoke was just another number on a balance sheet. “And what exactly is it that you need from me?” Adrian asked, his voice cool and dismissive. “I need an investor who’s willing to take a risk,” she said, not flinching under his scrutiny. “But more than that, I need someone who understands that design isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about creating value. I’m asking for your financial support, not just to pay off debt, but to help expand the business. With the right investment, I can turn this studio into a household name.” Adrian raised an eyebrow. “And you think I would do that?” She took a breath, steadying herself. “Yes. Because I believe that, just as you have done with your other investments, you can see the potential in turning something modest into something extraordinary.” A long silence followed. Adrian didn’t speak, didn’t move. He simply stared at her, his sharp gaze unblinking. It was as though he were weighing every word she had said, every moment of this conversation. Finally, he spoke, his voice as calm and controlled as ever. “And why should I take the risk? There are hundreds of designers, hundreds of businesses asking for funding every day. What makes you different?” Elena took a moment to collect her thoughts. This was the hardest part of the pitch (proving that she wasn’t just another designer), another failure waiting to happen. “What makes me different,” she said carefully, “is that I understand the value of partnership. This isn’t just about money. This is about building a legacy. Your legacy. Helping to create something that can outlast the numbers, the profits. I know you’re not a man who just looks at dollars and cents. You understand the impact your investments can have and that’s what I’m asking for.” Adrian leaned forward slightly, his expression inscrutable. “You’ve done your homework,” he said, as though impressed, but there was still a hint of skepticism in his voice. “I have,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.” He looked at her for a long moment, and Elena felt the weight of his gaze, like an invisible pressure pressing down on her. Finally, Adrian leaned back in his chair again, as though coming to a decision. “I’ll tell you what, Ms. Hartley,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, though still businesslike. “I’ll consider your proposal. But I’m not going to hand you a blank check.” She held her breath. “Of course, Mr. Kane. I wouldn’t expect that.” He gave her a sharp look. “I’ll make an offer, but it comes with a condition. I’ll invest in your business, help you pay off your debt, and fund your expansion on one condition: You’ll have to work with me on a project that requires… a certain level of image management.” Elena’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, unsure of what he meant. “Image management?” “Yes.” His jaw tightened slightly. “I need to appear more… family-oriented. For a deal I’m finalizing. You will help me sell that narrative.” Elena stared at him, stunned into silence. A business lifeline…wrapped like a Christmas gift in glittering strings… that tied around her. His gaze didn’t soften. “Well, Ms. Hartley?” he asked. “Merry Christmas. Do we have a deal?”