"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."
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. "Is that what this is
"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." You’re just the Grinch in a Tom Ford suit
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.