"It’s Christmas ," I snapped, stepping into his space. "People have met there, fallen in love there, and built traditions there for fifty years. You can’t just buy a soul, Silas."
"One week," he whispered, leaning down so his breath brushed my ear. "But if you lose, Noelle... you don't just walk away. You work for me. And I’m a very demanding boss."
He’s spent years building a tower of steel and glass, high above the festive chaos of Manhattan. To Silas Vane, Christmas isn’t a season—it’s a logistical nightmare of inefficient sentimentality. But when a spirited, sharp-tongued local activist stands in the way of his latest development project—the very site of the city’s oldest Christmas market—Silas decides to buy the land and shut it down himself. The Grumpy Billionaire Who Stole Christmas Read...
I knew I was making a deal with the devil. But as I looked into those cold, lonely eyes, I realized Silas Vane didn't just want to steal Christmas. He wanted someone to finally show him why it was worth keeping.
"You’re late, Noelle," he said without turning around. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that always made the hair on my arms stand up—partly from irritation, partly from something I refused to name. "It’s Christmas ," I snapped, stepping into his space
"I’m not late, Silas. I was detained by the three dozen protesters outside your lobby," I replied, shaking the snow from my coat. "You know, the ones whose livelihoods you’re currently trying to bulldoze for a 'Wellness Plaza'?"
"Is that what this is?" I gestured to the empty, shimmering room. "You bought the land, you cancelled the permits, and you invited me here just to gloat? You’re not a businessman tonight, Silas. You’re just the Grinch in a Tom Ford suit." "But if you lose, Noelle
Silas watched me, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine. The silence stretched, heavy and charged.