Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I came to The Gray looking for a fresh start—a paycheck, not a fairy tale. But the night I crash into Dario Luca, everything changes.
He’s power wrapped in a tailored suit. Cold eyes, dangerous smile, the kind of man who makes rules… and breaks them.
I should have walked away after spilling six thousand dollars’ worth of whiskey at his feet. Instead, he knelt beside me—hands steady, voice low, eyes burning.
Now he’s everywhere. Watching. Protecting. Tempting.
And when he says my name, it sounds like a promise I know will ruin me.
Dario
I don’t do distractions. Not when my enemies are moving against me, not when I’ve built an empire on control and fear.
Then she crashed into my world—innocent eyes, trembling hands, a mouth made for sin.
Belle doesn’t belong here. Not in my club. Not in my bed.
But I can’t stop wanting her.
And if the price of keeping her safe is blood on my hands this Christmas…
Then I’ll paint the snow red and call it a gift.This spicy Christmas romance blends dark obsession, redemption, and forbidden desire into a story of love that cuts as deep as it heals.
If you love age gap romance, morally gray heroes, and holiday heat with heart, you’ll fall for The Boss’s Christmas Belle
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Belle
I clutched my bag against my chest as I approached The Gray for my first shift, the weight of my uniform inside a tangible reminder of what this job meant. If I was careful and did a good job, I’d have stability, regular income, maybe even the chance to put a little aside each month. If I could build a small nest egg, I could make a down payment on a little house in the country. My dreams were simple. But it all started tonight.
My steps quickened across the pavement, heart fluttering with equal parts excitement and terror. This wasn't just any nightclub. The Gray bore the title of most exclusive spot in the city, where the powerful and wealthy played their private games like a badge of honor. And somehow, miraculously, they'd hired me. If rumors were to be believed, the tips alone at this place could make my life considerately less shitty.
The beautifully restored 1920s bank building that was The Gray loomed before me, its limestone facade gleaming in the fading evening light. I slowed my pace, momentarily transfixed. Massive marble columns flanked the main entrance, their surfaces veined with subtle gray that caught the amber glow of nearby streetlights. Gold leaf detailing traced intricate patterns around the doorways and windows, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
I'd never worked anywhere so grand. My resume was a patchwork of dive bars and casual restaurants, places where spilled beer was mopped up with yesterday's bar towels and tips were counted in change, not twenties. This place was different. Even the air felt expensive, as if each breath cost more than I'd make in an hour.
What caught my eye next made me stop entirely. The entrance to the club proper was an actual bank vault door. The massive, circular door gleamed with polished brass. It stood partially open, revealing glimpses of crystal and velvet beyond.
I tore my gaze away to glance at my watch. Crap. I needed to get inside before I was late for my first day. I hurried toward the smaller side entrance marked "Staff Only." I quickened my pace, mentally reviewing the contents of my bag, trying to think of anything I’d missed in my anxiety. I carried my uniform in a protective bag. My bag held hair ties, makeup for touch-ups, and my work shoes.
I was so focused on my mental checklist, I didn't notice the man in my way until I slammed into him full force. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, like hitting a wall of warm marble. My bag flew from my hands, contents spilling across the pavement in a humiliating display.
Strong hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me before I could stumble backward. I looked up, an apology already forming on my lips, and the words died in my throat. The man before me was tall with broad shoulders, impeccably dressed in a suit that even I could tell cost more than my month's rent. Probably a lot more. But it was his eyes that paralyzed me. Dark, calculating, and cold as northern lakes in winter, his gaze held mine like a cobra. An expensive haircut and neatly trimmed beard fit right in with the expensive clothing, watch, and rings. His salt-and-pepper hair only added to his air of authority. When he frowned down at me, his mouth set in a hard, disapproving line, my mouth went dry.
"I'm so sorry," I finally managed, my voice sounding small and breathless. "I wasn't looking where—"
"Clearly," he said, his voice deep and controlled, yet somehow softer than I'd expected.
My gaze clashed with his and a flush crept up my neck and bloomed across my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment scalding. The man was gorgeous. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed but those piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight through to my very soul. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape. He still gripped my shoulders, the hold was firm but gentle.
"My first day," I babbled, gesturing helplessly at my scattered belongings. "I was nervous and the building is so… A-and I was worried about being late and…" I forced myself to stop talking, painfully aware that I’d begun to tremble.
To my surprise, he knelt down and began gathering my things. I dropped to my knees beside him, reaching for my uniform that had partially unfolded on the concrete.
"Not the best start to your employment at The Gray," he remarked, his tone unreadable as he collected my lipstick and compact.
"No, not exactly the professional first impression I was hoping to make," I admitted, trying for a smile that felt wobbly on my lips.
Our hands moved across the pavement, collecting the scattered items. When we both reached for my employee handbook at the same time, our fingers brushed. The contact was brief, nothing more than skin against skin for a fraction of a second, but I felt it like an electric current zipping up my arm and spreading across my chest. I jerked back slightly, confused by my own reaction.