STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

CINNAMON:

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The crushing guilt in my chest after what I said wouldn’t let me stay at Mom’s, so I went back to the cabin.

It felt emptier and colder here, even with the blazing heater runing. To distract myself before I started overthinking, I kept myself busy organizing. After all, the living room needed it, with all my stuff lying around.

My suitcases went into the corner, arranged neatly so they didn’t clutter the space. I unpacked the essentials, which were my toiletries, a change of clothes, my work materials, and my laptop

Looking around, I let out a satisfied exhale, seeing the good job d done. There was nothing left to do, and it was already late. So, I changed into pajamas, washed my face, and stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Dante wasn’t coming back tonight. That much was obvious. Which meant I had the bedroom to myself. Even though I would have preferred to have him here, even if it meant sleeping on the sofa again..

I climbed under the covers, pulled them up to my chin, and closed my eyes. I caught his faint oud scent, which had calmed me to sleep early this morning when I took the bed. That scent had soothed me to sleep earlier, but it didn’t work this time.

Instead, Mom’s face kept appearing behind my eyelids. The hurt in her eyes and the sadness in her voice when she said, “I’m sorry for being a burden.”

God, what was wrong with me? She was dying. Actively, measurably dying, and I’d made her feel guilty for it.

I rolled onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, trying harder to fall asleep. Maybe when it finally happened, I’d get a break from the guilt.

There was an unexpected knock at the door, startling me. I almost screamed, jerking upright in bed. Cursing, I threw off the covers and rushed for the door.

Dante must be back. That was quicker than I expected.

I yanked it open. “Where have you—”

The words died mid-sentence.

Isaiah stood on the porch, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, that easy smile fixed on his face.

“Oh.” I forced a laugh. “Just you.”

His smile dimmed. “Expecting someone else?”

Ignoring his sly question, I said, “How can I help you?”

“There’s a party in town tonight.” He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze sliding slowly over my pajamas, his eyes trailing down them and making me uncomfortable. “Thought you might want to come with me.” He seductively licked his lips.

“No, thank you.” I immediately tried to close the door.

He jammed his foot against the frame. His palm flattened agains the wood, stopping it.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “It’ll be fun, and you’ll get some fresh air, especially now that your terrible fiancé isn’t around.” He winked, acting creepier.

I let go of the door so suddenly that he stumbled forward, catching himself on the frame.

“I said no-”

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09:54 Sat, Feb 28

Chapter 22

m M.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing coming after my woman?”

Dante’s voice rose above the night sounds, commanding attention.

Isaiah’s head whipped around. “I thought-“,

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Dante stepped into the porch light. He looked wrecked. Hair disheveled. Shirt half untucked. Dried blood streaked across his knuckles. His eyes were dangerous.

“You thought what?” Dante grabbed Isaiah by the collar and showed him back. “That it was okay to harass my fiancée while I was gone?”

“I was just being nice-”

“You were being a creep.” Dante’s voice was tight with rage. “She alone, so you figured you’d shoot your shot. Make her uncomfortable. See if you could wear her down.”

“That’s not-”

“Get lost. If I see you anywhere near her again, we’re going to have a very different conversation.”

Isaiah backed away, hands raised. “I didn’t mean anything—

“Now.”

He turned and hurried down the path toward the lodge.

Dante shut the door behind him.

“Can you imagine?” I said, still trying to catch up with what had just happened. “The nerve of that guy-”

“Yeah,” Dante said quietly. “I can imagine.”

His voice sounded heavy. I turned just as he dropped onto the couch with a low grunt, looking like the weight of the world. had finally crushed him. He didn’t lean back or get comfortable. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

His hair stuck out in every direction, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His shirt was wrinkled, dark stains smeared near the collar. But it was his hands that pulled my focus. The skin over his knuckles was split and swollen, the bruises fresh enough to tell whatever fight he’d been in hadn’t ended long ago.

By my best guess, he’d won. Still, whatever victory he’d claimed adn’t made him happy. He looked devastated. Lost. More vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.

This wasn’t annoying, composed Dante. This was someone who’d been broken open and hadn’t quite figured out how to put himself back together.

I had my own problems, but they faded when I saw him this way!

“Wait here,” I said quietly.

I hurried to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, and ran it unde warm water. When I came back, I knelt in front of him and reached for his hand.

He pulled away on instinct.

I lifted my gaze to his. “Let me,” I pleaded softly.

For a few seconds, he didn’t move. Then he exhaled and held his hand out.

2/3

09:54 Sat, Feb 28

Chapter 22

m M.

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55 vouchers

I cleaned the blood carefully, wiping away the dried mess until could see the damage underneath. The cuts weren’t deep, but they were swollen and tender in a painful, slow, throbbing way.

I reached into my purse and took out a small container of petroleum jelly, smoothing a thin layer over the worst areas.

”

“That should do it,” I murmured as I stood. “You’ll live. And it won’t get infected.”

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