STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

DANTE:

My lungs burned.

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Four suitcases. Thirty pounds each, minimum. Up porch steps slick with ice, through a doorway barely wide enough to fit them all at once. My shoulders screamed in protest, muscles I didn’t regularly use making their displeasure known with

every movement.

I needed to talk to Cinnamon. Immediately. Establish boundaries, set ground rules, make it crystal clear that I wasn’t her pack mule or her personal assistant or whatever role she’d decided to cast me in.

But before I could say a single word, a woman appeared.

She was sinaller and shorter than Cinnamon which caught my attention. I thought Cinnamon was the smallest person I have ever met. Anyways, this woman was wrapped in a pale blue robe hat hung loose on her frame. Too loose. She looked too thin and seemed sick. I don’t think this kind of thin was as a result of dieting. Would anyone go that far just to shed weight? Her skin had a translucent quality, delicate and papery, like if you pressed too hard you might leave bruises.

But her eyes. God, her eyes were bright. Alert. The same warm brown as Cinnamon’s, filled with a strength that her body no longer possessed.

“You must be Dante.” Her smile reached those eyes, crinkling the corners. “I’m Gloria Wealth. Cinnamon’s mother.”

My irritation evaporated.

I set down the suitcases carefully, straightened, and extended my hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Wealth.”

She took my hand in both of hers. Her grip was weak, but her touch was warm. “Please, call me Gloria.” She glanced at the pile of luggage, concern crossing her face. “I’m so sorry, dear. If Cinnamon had told me she was bringing someone, I would’ve prepared better. The house isn’t much, but I would’ve at least made sure there were fresh sheets and-”

“Actually.” I kept my voice gentle. “Cinnamon and I were planning to find our own accommodations while we’re here. A hotel, an Airbnb. Somewhere private where we can have our own space. We just wanted to stop by and see you first, of

course.”

That was a lie.

I wanted out of this cramped house. I could tell Gloria’s door stayed open to the entire neighborhood. Drop-ins. Surprise visits. The last thing I needed was having people constantly in our faces unannounced while Cinnamon and I fumbled through our fake relationship.

We’d get caught in a day. Maybe less.

“We are?” Cinnamon’s voice cut through the warm hum of conversation.

I turned, finding her across the room, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

I held her gaze. “Yes, baby. Remember? We talked about wanting our own space. Time to ourselves.”

Recognition flickered. She caught on fast. “Oh. Right. Of course. Silly me.”

Gloria nodded slowly, though something in her expression suggested she wasn’t entirely happy with the announcement.

Mrs. Hartley still standing near the fireplace like a sentinel perked up immediately.

“I know a cabin.” Her voice carried authority. It made everyone in the room listen without realizing they’d stopped talking.

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Chapter 11

“It’s about ten minutes outside town. Very private. Beautiful view of the mountains.”

Perfect. Isolated. Far enough from prying eyes.

“We’d be incredibly grateful if you could show us,” I said, offering my most charming smile.

Mrs. Hartley’s stern expression softened slightly, “Of course, dear.”

She turned back to Cinnamon, launching into rapid-fire questions about the engagement. When did it happen? How did I propose? Had we set a date?

Cinnamon fielded every question without hesitation, spinning details so specific and heartfelt I found myself wondering if she’d rehearsed this. Her hands moved as she talked, gestures natural and fluid. Her face glowed with what looked like genuine happiness.

She was good. Dangerously good.

Then she turned those bright eyes on me, tilting her head with an expression of pure innocence.

“Baby?” Her voice was sweet. “Would you mind shoveling the driveway before we leave?”

I went still. “Excuse me?”

ww

“The snow.” She gestured toward the window where thick white powder covered everything in sight. “It looks dangerous. What if one of Mom’s friends slips and falls? I’d feel terrible.”

“You want me to shovel snow.”

“Yes.” She smiled wider, adding a slight pout that somehow made her look even more innocent. “That’s one of the things I love most about him, actually. He makes my life so easy. All I have to do is ask, and it’s done.”

The women murmured approvingly.

Mrs. Hartley nodded. “A man who takes care of his woman. That’s rare these days.”

I wanted to tell her to mind her own damn business. That she didn’t know the first thing about me or this relationship or what I did or didn’t do for

anyone.

Instead, I smiled. My jaw ached from how tight I was clenching i “Of course, beautiful. Anything for you.”

Cinnamon’s answering smile was victorious.

Oh, she was going to pay for this. First the suitcases, all four of them, stacked like I was moving furniture instead of just visiting for a few weeks. Now manual labor. In freezing temperatures. While wearing completely inappropriate clothing.

I stepped outside, forcing my stride to stay light and unbothered even though anger pulsed hot beneath my skin. I’d already played the part of the devoted fiancée; I couldn’t let them see the truth now.

Khole appeared at my side like a ghost. I hadn’t even heard her approach.

She held a shovel. Old, wooden handle worn smooth from years of use, metal blade scratched and dented.

I reached for it.

She didn’t let go.

I tugged gently. She held firm, fingers wrapped tight around the handle.

I looked at her. Really looked.

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Chapter 11

“It’s about ten minutes outside town. Very private. Beautiful view of the mountains.”

Perfect. Isolated. Far enough from prying eyes.

“We’d be incredibly grateful if you could show us,” I said, offering my most charming smile.

Mrs. Hartley’s stern expression softened slightly. “Of course, deal”

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She turned back to Cinnamon, launching into rapid-fire questions about the engagement. When did it happen? How did I propose? Had we set a date?

Cinnamon fielded every question without hesitation, spinning details so specific and heartfelt I found myself wondering if she’d rehearsed this. Her hands moved as she talked, gestures natural and fluid. Her face glowed with what looked like genuine happiness.

She was good. Dangerously good.

Then she turned those bright eyes on me, tilting her head with an expression of pure innocence.

“Baby?” Her voice was sweet. “Would you mind shoveling the driveway before we leave?”

I went still. “Excuse me?”

“The snow.” She gestured toward the window where thick white powder covered everything in sight. “It looks dangerous. What if one of Mom’s friends slips and falls? I’d feel terrible.”

“You want me to shovel snow.”

“Yes.” She smiled wider, adding a slight pout that somehow made her look even more innocent. “That’s one of the things I love most about him, actually. He makes my life so easy. All I have to do is ask, and it’s done.”

The women murmured approvingly.

Mrs. Hartley nodded. “A man who takes care of his woman. That’s rare these days.”

I wanted to tell her to mind her own damn business. That she didn’t know the first thing about me or this relationship or what I did or didn’t do for anyone.

Instead, I smiled. My jaw ached from how tight I was clenching “Of course, beautiful. Anything for you.”

Cinnamon’s answering smile was victorious.

Oh, she was going to pay for this. First the suitcases, all four of them, stacked like I was moving furniture instead of just visiting for a few weeks. Now manual labor. In freezing temperatures. While wearing completely inappropriate clothing.

I stepped outside, forcing my stride to stay light and unbothered even though anger pulsed hot beneath my skin. I’d already played the part of the devoted fiancée; I couldn’t let them see the truth now.

Khole appeared at my side like a ghost. I hadn’t even heard her approach.

She held a shovel. Old, wooden handle worn smooth from years of use, metal blade scratched and dented.

I reached for it.

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