STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17

CINNAMON:

CINNAMON:

Dante Moretti had a heart.

m M.

I never thought I’d say those words. Hell, I never thought I’d think them.

I pressed my teeth into my bottom lip, fighting the smile that kept trying to break free.

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This morning, when I’d stumbled out of that bedroom after stealing it from him, I’d expected smugness. Expected him to lord it over me, to remind me that he’d won by forcing me onto that couch in the first place.

Instead, he’d later ordered breakfast. For both of us.

And when I’d emerged, disheveled and half-asleep, he’d asked if i’d slept better. Not sarcastically. Not mockingly. Just… asked.

Like he actually cared.

It made something warm unfurl in my chest. A warmth I wasn’t supposed to feel for a man who drove me absolutely insane on a daily basis.

Before this morning, I’d thought he was just another rich narcissist who’d been handed everything in life and never had to work for anything real. But that breakfast, that quiet, almost embarrassed kindness had cracked that assumption wide open.

Don’t get me wrong. He still drove me up the wall. Still barked orders like I was his personal assistant instead of a highly qualified strategist. Still looked at me sometimes like I was a particularly annoying puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

But I’d started to realize I could handle that. More than that, I could push back. Straighten him out when he got too high on his own power.

We balanced each other, in a weird, combative way.

Except right now, my patience was about to snap.

We’d been sitting in this godforsaken coffee shop for over thirty minutes, waiting for Jensen Harbor, the town’s so-called representative.

The rest of the townspeople had made it clear they wouldn’t meet with “business people or investors” directly. They’d elected Jensen to speak on their behalf, to negotiate terms, to make sure their interests were protected.

Which would’ve been fine if Jensen Harbor wasn’t the shadiest person I’d ever met,

And I’d met Marcus. So that was saying something.

I shifted in my seat, glancing around the coffee shop. It was one of those aggressively trendy places that had exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling, a chalkboard men written in unnecessarily elaborate cursive. They charged ten dollars for a simple latte and acted like they were doing one favor.

The coffee tasted burnt. Borderline undrinkable.

But we were here. Waiting. Because Jensen Harbor was late.

Dante sat across from me, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the table. He checked his phone for the third time in five minutes.

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Chapter 17

“He’s late,” he muttered.

“I know.”

“Thirty-two minutes late.”

“I can count.”

His eyes flicked to mine, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “This is unprofessional.”

“Welcome to small-town politics.”

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He exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning back in his chair. “If this is how they conduct business, no wonder their town is stagnant.”

I wanted to defend Meadowbrook and remind him that not everyone operated on corporate timelines and rigid schedules. But honestly? I was annoyed too.

I hadn’t even talked to my mom yet about whether she’d consider selling. That conversation loomed over me like a storm cloud, heavy and unavoidable. Part of me hoped she would so we could use the money to move her and Khole to Alabama, get a bigger apartment, take care of her properly until-

I stopped that thought in its tracks.

I didn’t think about Mom’s cancer reaching its end stage. I wasn’t going to let myself imagine a world without her in it. The grief would swallow me whole if I did.

So I focused on the present. On this meeting, getting through one disaster at a time.

The door chimed.

Jensen Harbor arrogantly strolled in.

Mid-forties, maybe. Barrel-chested, with thinning hair slicked back with too much gel. He wore a leather jacket that looked expensive but somehow still managed to look cheap on him. Gold watch. Gold ring. Gold chain visible beneath his open collar.

Everything about him told that he was trying too hard.

He spotted us, grinned, and sauntered over.

“Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t sound sorry. “Got caught up with some folks at the town hall. You know how it is.”

Dante stood, extending his hand. “Dante Moretti. This is Cinnamon Wealth.”

Jensen’s handshake stayed too long on mine, his thumb brushing across my knuckles making my skin crawl.

“Cinnamon. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” His smile widened, showing too many teeth. “I remember you. Gloria’s daughter, right? You left town a few years back.”

“I did.” I pulled my hand back, resisting the urge to wipe it on my jeans.

He dropped into the chair across from us, spreading his arms wide like he was holding court. “So. You want to buy up the town. That’s a big ask.”

Dante leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “We’re prepared to make a fair offer. One that benefits everyone

involved.”

“Fair.” Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s a funny word. What’s fair to you might not be fair to us.”

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Chapter 17

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