A ghost of a smirk pulled at his mouth—the first sign of life I’d seen on his face in months. "The Grinch had a dog, Noelle. I just have a board of directors. They’re much harder to please."
"One week," he whispered, leaning down so his breath brushed my ear. "But if you lose, Noelle... you don't just walk away. You work for me. And I’m a very demanding boss."
"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."