STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS

CINNAMON:

Three years.

Three years of late nights, brutal deadlines, and campaigns that saved the company's ass more times than I could count. Today, all of it would finally mean something.

I smoothed my hands over the navy blazer I'd splurged on last month. Tailored, professional.  It was perfect for claiming what I'd earned. My reflection in the apartment window looked ready. Confident. A woman who'd already won.

The promotion was mine.

I grabbed my bag and bolted out the door, heels clicking against the pavement as I speed-walked toward the junction. The staff bus always left at 7:45 sharp, and I'd rather chew glass than miss it today of all days.

The bus rumbled into view just as I rounded the corner, brake lights glowing red.

"Wait!" I broke into a jog, waving my arm like a lunatic.

The door hissed open. Thank God.

I reached for the handle, ready to haul myself up and collided with a wall of muscle and expensive cologne.

A man stood at the door, one hand already gripping the rail, his body angled to board. Dark hair, sharp jawline, face that belonged on a magazine cover as a supermodel.

We both froze.

Then his eyes dropped to my hand on the door. His tightened.

Oh, hell no.

I yanked harder, wedging my shoulder into the narrow gap. He pulled back, crowding closer, his suit jacket brushing my arm.

"Excuse me," I said through gritted teeth.

He didn't move. Just stared at me like I was gum on his thousand-dollar shoe.

Fine. Two could play this game.

I twisted my body, slipped past him with a grunt, and hauled myself onto the bus. Victory tasted sweet until I realized there was exactly one seat left.

I lunged for it.

The bus jerked forward as I dropped into the worn vinyl seat, exhaling in relief. Behind me, footsteps thudded up the stairs.

The stranger appeared in the aisle, scanning the packed bus with an expression that could've frozen hell. His gaze landed on me.

I felt it like a brand.

He moved closer, stopping directly in front of my seat. Didn't say a word. Just stood there, looking down at me with those cold, unreadable eyes that somehow commanded, "get up."

I blinked up at him, all innocence. "Don't look at me. I'm not giving up this seat for you."

His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked near his temple.

For a second, I thought he might actually say something. Instead, he turned and grabbed the overhead rail, positioning himself among the other standing passengers as the bus filled in behind him.

I slipped my headphones on, cranking the volume until soft piano music drowned out the world. My body relaxed into the seat, tension melting from my shoulders.

Today was going to be perfect. I could feel it.

Except my eyes kept drifting back to him.

He stood three feet away, one hand wrapped around the rail, the other hanging loose at his side. The