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I don't belong here. And as I take my seat around that table, I know without a doubt that I will fight tooth and nail to have the life I want. No one can dictate my destiny but me.
MARIAH
From the moment Clark steps into the room, it's almost like time stands still. The strong set of his shoulders under his flannel shirt, the way his jeans hug his hips just so, the heavy boots that speak of days in the field, not in this shiny, sterile place. And then there's that look on his face—it’s kind of like a deer caught in headlights, but it's more than that. It's the look of a man torn between two different worlds, teetering on a precipice, and as mad as I am that he didn't tell me his real name, I don't want him to fall. I believed him when he assured me that this isn't where he belongs, and honestly, after being back in the city for only a short while, I'm not sure it's where I belong anymore, either.
When Magnus Calloway 's curt voice cuts into my thoughts, it feels like a splash of icy water. He's waving a file in the air, grimly outlining the latest PR crisis that has us all gathered here.
"It's been exposed that one of our beef suppliers grossly violated our ethical standards. Their facility was overcrowded, the animals mistreated. And while we've already shut them down, it's only a matter of time before this is all over social media and the entire supply chain gets affected."
Murmurs of concern ripple around the table. "Immediate damage control is our only recourse," the CFO snaps as he jumps to his feet to join in.
I glance at Clark out of the corner of my eye. He's tense, with his fingers digging into the arms of his chair as Magnus nods at Miles and continues, "We're all in agreement here. We need to reassure the public we take this breach very seriously. That's why I intend to take full responsibility and step down. I name my son Clark as the new head of the company."
The word 'no' is a gasp caught on the tip of my tongue. It's like someone has yanked the floor out from under me and I'm tumbling down, down, down. I see Clark's eyes cloud over, pain dancing in their depth. There's so much disappointment in those blue orbs that my heart clenches. This isn't want he wants. I know it isn't.
Clark immediately protests. "My answer is no. I don't want it."
The room explodes in a flurry of activity. Voices rise around Clark and Magnus. Everyone shocked, some indignant, others already scheming for the new power vacuum. But I barely hear their chatter, my attention solely focused on the scene playing out between father and son.
Magnus's face tightens, his eyes narrowing at Clark's refusal. "We've been over this enough. No isn't an answer I'll accept. This is yourduty, Clark," he snaps, his voice sharp.
Clark leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists, his jaw set in a stubborn line as he stands his ground. “It's the only answer I have. My duty lies somewhere else.”
Magnus’s face darkens, storm clouds rolling in. "Enough with this ranch hand fantasy. You are a Calloway. It's time you accept your responsibilities and help lead this company out of scandal."
Taking a deep breath, I stand and speak above the din before Clark can fire back. "Perhaps there's a compromise."
All eyes swivel to me, and the discomfort is a cold sweat dripping down my spine. I've worked my way up the company ladder of my PR firm for years, proving my worth time after time. But still, I feel like a stuttering teenager at her first school dance—awkward, out of place, yet determined. "Maybe Clark doesn't need to abandon his passion for ranching. And...and maybe Mr. Calloway doesn't need to step down either."
Magnus sits back in his chair and straightens his tie. "I'm listening."
"Well, our problem is withoneprocessing plant, correct? How about instead of undergoing a massive internal restructure to show your commitment to change, we run a PR campaign that highlights Calloway's core values—integrity, authenticity, community. With Clark's good looks, down-to-earth outlook and family connection to the name, he could become something like a brand ambassador. Help improve your image by showing the public that Calloway is so committed to excellence that his only son works the land himself. Clark's hands-on experience with the animals could help spotlight the quality and dedication that goes into your products. Meanwhile, he can still do the work he loves while becoming a relatable face for the company."
While everyone turns to Magnus and awaits a response, the tension in the room feels taut as a guitar string. His expression is inscrutable, eyebrows knitted together while the gears inside his head turn. And me, I'm just standing there, holding my breath, wondering if I've just made the riskiest gamble of my career.
After what feels like an eternity, Magnus steeples his fingers, and I swear the shadows in the room are holding their breath with me. "You're saying," he begins, his voice like a slow avalanche, "that you want to use my son as a marketing tool?"
"Not a tool." I rush in before he can write off the idea altogether. "As an embodiment of Calloway's values. Clark loves the land, he cares about the animals and his community. He's hardworking and authentic—all the qualities that Calloway wants to represent. If we let him be the face of the company, it’ll humanize the brand, resonate with the audience, connect them to the brand on a personal level. We can show them that Calloway isn't just a corporation, it's a family."
Magnus turns to Clark and quietly asks, "Is this something you'd consider?"
Clarks shakes his head. "It's not my favorite. But if it'll get me out of this glass box and back to Cedarwood Valley, then I'm willing to compromise." His eyes move to mine. "As long as Mariah here can come back with me to make sure this all runs smoothly."
A strange sensation courses through me like electricity buzzing under my skin—a mix of surprise, panic, and... excitement? Clark and I have a lot of things to discuss. I'm still mad at him for not being upfront with me. But one thing I'm sure of is that whatever happens next, this man will be right by my side, refusing to budge no matter how hard I push. He loves me that much. And maybe...maybe I'm in love with him, too.
"We'll have the papers drawn up immediately, then," Magnus says, clapping his hands as he stands to address the whole room. "It's decided. Clark will be our new Brand Ambassador while I remain CEO. Thank you all for your time."
As everyone files out, Clark touches my elbow. "Thank you," he says earnestly. "I know you're hurtin'. But what you did in there..." His strong tanned hands find mine. "Getting my father to choose another path... It was nothing short of a miracle. I was startin' to think I wouldn't make it out alive. Well, at least not without them forcin' me into one of those penguin suits."
I laugh, a soft, shaky sound that barely covers the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "I just thought about the Clark I know in my heart and I did what he'd want."
His eyes soften at this, his mouth curving up in a smile that kicks my heart into overdrive. "Guess you know me pretty well then, city," he says, his voice a gentle rumble that melts in my ears.
I blink up at him, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. "I reckon I do, cowboy. I mean, I might not have known your real name. But after seeing you stand your ground with your father, I know that I understand who you are." I pause, my words locking somewhere behind that knot in my throat. "I know what you care about, what you fight for... I know your heart, and I know your soul. And...and I guess... Iknowthat I love you. That’s all of it.”
Clark’s mouth tics up at the corners. “That’s all?”
I lick my lips. “Yeah. The rest of it we can just figure out.”
