STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

DANTE:

π M

If I didn’t know this was all fake, I would’ve believed every word. Hell, I almost believed it anyway.

And that was the problem.

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She was too good at this. Too convincing. Which meant I had no idea where the performance ended and the real Cinnamon began.

Did she have any tells? Any cracks in the facade?

I stepped into the room. “Did I miss anything important?”

Every head turned. Cinnamon’s gaze found mine, something flickering in her expression before she smiled. “Just telling everyone our origin story.”

Mrs. Hartley leaned forward, hands folded in her lap, expression assessing. “I heard your company is among the thousands showing interest in purchasing land here in Meadowbrook.”

Finally. Business.

I opened my mouth, ready to take control of the conversation. Lay out the proposal, discuss terms, move this forward so we could close the deal and get out of here.

Cinnamon spoke first.

“Actually, my company sent both of us as representatives for the project.” Her smile was sweet. Disarming.

Gloria’s face clouded. “They’re making you work through the holidays? You should be home with family.”

“I know, Mom.” Cinnamon sighed, shaking her head dramatically. “It’s because of our new boss. He’s-” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “Difficult. He makes everyone work themselves to the bone. Never satisfied, no matter how much you give. And he’s completely ungrateful. Doesn’t acknowledge anyone’s effort.”

She looked directly at me as she spoke.

My mouth fell open.

Was she seriously describing me? Right in front of me?

I deserved an award for not choking on air.

Another woman entered the room, carrying a tray of cookies. Her hair was cut in a severely uneven bob that suggested either a very adventurous stylist or a very unfortunate accident. That sounds awful. He must be a miserable person. Probably has an unhappy home life.”

“Oh, definitely,” Cinnamon agreed, nodding sympathetically. “Very sad.”

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.

Mrs. Hartley’s eyes moved between us. “So you both work at the same company?”

“Yes.” Cinnamon smiled. “That’s why our relationship works so well. After we met at the coffee shop, I had no idea he’d just been hired as an adviser to the CEO. I walked into work the next day, and there he was.”

“Fate,” one of the women murmured.

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Chapter 13

Such a position didn’t even exist in my company.

Gloria’s expression became prideful. “So he’s technically your junior? You’ve been there three years.”

Cinnamon’s smile widened. “By duration and position, yes. I’m senior to him,” she boasted.

Oh, this woman was something else.

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Mrs. Hartley turned her full attention on me. The weight of her gaze felt like being cross-examined in court. “How do you feel about that, Dante? Your fiancée’s career being more established than yours? Are you the kind of man who’s intimidated by a woman’s success?”

The room went quiet.

I almost laughed. Almost.

What Cinnamon earned in a year combined with the bonus I was about to pay her wouldn’t cover the cost of the suit she’d ruined on the day we met.

But I kept that to myself.

Every eye landed on me, waiting. Testing.

I could feel the trap in the question. Answer wrong, and I’d confim every negative assumption they had about modern men and their fragile egos.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, keeping my expression open and sincere.

“Intimidated?” I let the word hang for a moment. “No. I’m in awe of her. Cinnamon’s brilliant. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever met, and she deserves every bit of success she’s earned. If anything, I’m the lucky one. She challenges me. Makes me want to be better. And I’m proud of her. Every single day.”

Then the women practically melted at my speech.

Even Mrs. Hartley’s stern expression softened, something that might have been approval crossing her face.

We talked for another twenty minutes. Surface-level questions. Plans for the wedding. Where we’d live. What we did for fun.

Cinnamon answered most of them, weaving details with the ease of someone who’d either thought this through extensively or was making it up on the spot and didn’t care if it fell apart later.

I couldn’t tell which.

Finally, the women started gathering their things. Purses. Coats. Tupperware containers.

“It was lovely meeting you, Dante,” Mrs. Hartley said, standing. Her handshake was firm. Businesslike. “I hope you your time here. Meadowbrook can be quite charming during the holidays.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”

both enjoy

She paused at the door, turning back with a thoughtful expression. “Oh, we have a service at church this Sunday. Nothing too formal. Just the community coming together. You’re both welcome to join us.”

Church.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d set foot in one. My father’s funeral, twenty years ago. The memory alone made me not want to set foot in one again.

Before I could formulate a polite excuse, Cinnamon jumped in

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Chapter 13

“We’d love to come.” Her voice was warm, enthusiastic.

Mrs. Hartley’s smile widened. “Wonderful. Service starts at ten.”

She left.

The door closed behind her, and the sudden quiet felt overwhelming after the constant chatter.

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