Merry with a Tycoon (The Love Beach Holiday Collection)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

CRYSTAL FRANCIA

Where the hell is Santa?

He was supposed to be here half an hour ago and he hasn’t answered my calls and texts. Did he get into an accident? Did he decide to ghost the event?

I groan. So unprofessional, yet totally my fault for trying to save money by hiring someone who didn’t charge an arm and a leg. I glance at my watch before turning my attention back to the crowd of parents and their excited children participating in Seaside Square’s Winter Wonderland event. At least their impatience has been kept at bay with the many games and activities scattered around the square. The scent of hot cocoa and cinnamon wafts through the air as children giggle and squeal, darting between candy cane-striped poles and tinsel-draped booths.

I force a smile and wave at Mrs. Chen who’s eyeing me suspiciously from behind her gingerbread decorating station. She’s probably wondering why Santa’s chair remains empty.

Everything had been going so well. There just had to be a wrinkle somewhere, right?

Still, the event is for a good cause, to benefit a children’s charity that makes sure no child is without a present on Christmas Day. Already, the bins for donated presents are almost full and the raffle tickets for the grand prize—a brand new bicycle—are selling like hotcakes.

But there’s another reason we're hosting this event. With most of the town’s attention captured by the flashier Boardwalk just a block away—where big-name franchises are overshadowing small mom-and-pop shops—the merchants of Seaside Square have been finding it tough to compete. This event is more than just a spread of holiday cheer; it's our call to Love Beach, reminding them of the magic that our little strip mall still holds.

By transforming Seaside Square into a winter wonderland, complete with Santa’s workshop, carolers, and hot cocoa stands, we aim to divert some of that foot traffic from the Boardwalk. It’s a gamble, but one we’re willing to take. After all, every shop here, including my own, represents not just a dream but a family’s livelihood.

I try and focus on these positives as I make my way into my shop, HarmonyWorks, to see if our Santa has finally arrived and is getting into his costume. But other than Marika, my assistant, there’s no one else.

“Has he called?” I ask as she looks up from the register while inputting inventory.

“Not yet.”

I sigh, turning my attention to the crowd outside the windows. If Santa doesn’t arrive here in five minutes, I need to find someone else to take his place.

As I scan the crowd outside, my mind drifts to Mrs. Royce, the original owner of HarmonyWorks who would let me hang out after school and eventually gave me my first job stocking the store.

Back then, this boutique was my sanctuary, a home away from home when my parents’ arguments became too much to bear. When Mrs. Royce retired five years ago, it felt natural to take over the lease and buy the remaining inventory. It required applying for a loan but I didn’t care; it’s a part of doing business.

People often assume I come from money, but the truth is more complicated. My parents’ wealth came suddenly, an inheritance from my mother’s side that arrived like a bomb when I was sixteen, detonating their already fragile marriage. Money might have made us “rich,” but it also marked the beginning of the end for my family.

That’s why events like this matter so much to me. It’s not about the money—though heaven knows we need it to keep these old-time shops in business. It’s about creating the kind of warm, welcoming community that Mrs. Royce created for me when it was nonexistent at home.

Suddenly I hear a commotion from the back of the shop and spot Carl, the actor we hired to play Santa walking in.

“Ho ho… whoa!” he slurs, stumbling into a display of handcrafted ornaments as I rush to grab the stand before it topples to the floor.

“You’re late,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. “You were supposed to be here forty minutes ago.”

“Sorry, doll,” he hiccups, the smell of peppermint schnapps hitting me square in the face. “Got a little too much holiday cheer at the office party. Thought I’d be fine, but...” He trails off, distracted by the jingling of my elf hat.

Great. Santa’s three sheets to the wind.

“Where do I get changed into my costume?” he asks, looking around. “You do have it, right?”

I close my eyes, count to ten, and open them again. Nope, still stuck in this nightmare before Christmas. How I wish I could head straight to where my mosaic tiles are stacked neatly in a corner and let the world fade away as I create my next piece. But not right now. Right this minute, I need to make a decision.

“You’re fired,” I declare as Carl’s eyes widen. “Go home, sleep it off, and maybe rethink your life choices.”

“You can’t do that!” he exclaims as I turn him around, to the direction of the back door.

“Oh, yes I can.”

As I usher the inebriated Santa-wannabe towards the back door, panic sets in.

What am I going to do? I can’t cancel Santa’s appearance. The disappointment on those little faces would be too much to bear. But I can’t go out there and tell them Santa’s too drunk to see them either.

I need to find another Santa. Heck, at this point, anyone will do. Well, anyone who can fit into the costume that’s waiting for him in my office-slash-storage room.

Just then the door opens and a familiar tall, well-dressed figure walks into the shop.

He looks as impeccable as always: tailored suit, dark hair perfectly styled, his striking blue eyes taking in the Christmas chaos of the boutique. I’ve seen that look many times over as he’s browsed the shop, always polite, always professional. Always leaving with a trinket.

Preston Hollister.

But then, I’m transported back to the schoolyard, seeing him and his younger brother Brogan teasing my best friend Wilhelmina ‘Willy’ Genaro mercilessly. The old anger flares, but I push it down.

That was a long time ago, Willy would remind me if she were here, and people change. Heaven knows Brogan has for he and Willy are currently dating.

That development still gives me emotional whiplash sometimes, but to see her happily in love with her former bully- turned-Navy-SEAL-turned-lovestruck-boyfriend gives me hope that maybe she’s right. Maybe Brogan really has changed.

But has Preston?

Oh, I’m happy Willy’s happy, but forgiving Preston feels... complicated. Especially given what he represents—the Hollister empire of hotels stretching across the coast and expanding overseas, the very antithesis of small businesses like mine.

And then there’s Vivian, his girlfriend. Or is it ex-girlfriend now? The Love Beach rumor mill has it that they broke up months ago, but who knows? The heiress rarely hung out at Love Beach anyway, preferring to stay in New York City with her friends or partying on some yacht in the Maldives—or so her social media posts indicate.

I shake my head, reminding myself to focus on the task at hand. Preston’s relationship status is irrelevant to the current situation. What matters is that he might be my only hope to save this event.

Before I can second-guess myself, I plaster on my best smile and march towards him. “Excuse me, Mr. Hollister, may I ask a huge favor?”

“Of course,” he replies, smiling, “but please, call me Preston.”

“Preston, then,” I say, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I know this request is crazy but can you be Santa for a few hours? Our original Santa is... indisposed. And we have a crowd out there who’ve been waiting to meet the big man himself.”

“What happened to your original Santa?” Preston asks as the door opens behind him and one of his bodyguards who’s never too far away whenever Preston browses at the shop, steps inside.

“Let’s just say he was a little too full of Christmas ‘spirit’, if you catch my drift,” I reply. “I had to fire him before he turned our winter wonderland into a nightmare before Christmas.”

A smirk tugs at Preston’s lips. “That would have been unfortunate.”

“I can do it, boss,” the bodyguard says, his expression serious. “No need for you to do this.”

“I know, but I’d like to do it,” Preston says as the other man frowns. “By the way, Javi, this is Crystal Francia, owner of HarmonyWorks. Crystal, this is Javier or Javi as I call him, head of my security. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”

“Very nice to meet you, Miss Francia.”

“Please, call me Crystal. And it’s nice to meet you,” I say as my gaze goes from him to Preston. “So who will it be? You or Javi? The kids are about to go feral out there.”

“It’ll be me, of course,” Preston says as Javi, about to protest, sets his mouth in a straight line and nods. “Just show me where I can get dressed.”

As Preston follows me to the storage room, relief washes over me, quickly followed by a wave of panic as I realize what I’ve just set in motion. Reaching the door, I turn to face him, suddenly serious. “Look, you can still back out. Once you put on that suit, there’s no going back. You’ll be contractually obligated to love milk and cookies and tolerate screaming children on your lap for the next two to three hours.”

Preston chuckles. “Sounds like a typical board meeting—minus the milk and cookies. But not to worry, Miss Francia–”

“Call me Crystal.”

“Crystal,” he says, his lips curving into a grin that suddenly leaves me weak in the knees. “I’ve got this.”