"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.
He turned then, his eyes like flint. "It’s a strategic acquisition. The market is an eyesore. It’s loud, it smells of cheap cinnamon, and it’s blocking the view of the skyline." The Grumpy Billionaire Who Stole Christmas Read...
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. "You’re late, Noelle," he said without turning around
"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." "It’s a strategic acquisition