"You’re late, Noelle," he said without turning around. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that always made the hair on my arms stand up—partly from irritation, partly from something I refused to name.
"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." The Grumpy Billionaire Who Stole Christmas Read...
Silas watched me, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine. The silence stretched, heavy and charged. "You’re late, Noelle," he said without turning around
"Then let me please them," I challenged, my heart hammering against my ribs. "One week. Give the market one more week. If I can’t prove to you that the 'sentimental value' outweighs your profit margins by Christmas Eve, I’ll sign the NDA and walk away from the protest for good." "You bought the land, you cancelled the permits,