A Billionaire For Christmas

Samantha’s POV: The clock on my dashboard blinked 7:58 a.m. as I eased my old blue car out of my apartment lot, merging onto the bustling streets of Fifth Avenue. Outside, Christmas lights draped the trees and shopfronts in glittering red and gold. It was beautiful if you were into that sort of thing. But I wasn’t. Not anymore. I’d been working as a window dresser at LeClair & Co, the most prestigious department store in Manhattan, for nearly a year now. It wasn’t where I’d imagined I’d be at this point in my life, but art wasn’t exactly paying the bills. So here I was, driving toward another day of adding sparkle to the world, all while feeling utterly dim inside. As I approached the store's parking lot gate, I spotted Mr. Jones, the morning security guard. He was bundled up against the cold, with a friendly grin on his face as he waved. "Merry Christmas, Ma'am!" he called, his voice muffled by the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. I waved back and managed a smile. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones. You’re here bright and early!" “Oh, yes!” he chuckled as I parked and stepped out of my car. “Gotta get ready to buy gifts for the kids. Almost the big day, you know.” “Right,” I said, forcing some cheer into my voice. “That’s nice. I’m sure they’re excited.” And they probably were most people were. Christmas had a way of lifting spirits, of wrapping people in warmth and nostalgia. Not for me, though. Christmas felt more like a season for memories I’d rather forget. As I locked my car and walked past him, Mr. Jones c****d his head. "Not taking any time off for the holiday this year again, Miss Samantha? Always working, you are." I shook my head, pulling my scarf tighter. "Not my thing, Mr. Jones. Just another day as far as I’m concerned." “Well…” He looked at me with a sympathetic smile. “I always tell my kids, Christmas comes with its own miracles. Who knows? Maybe this year’s your lucky one.” I chuckled dryly and hit the elevator button, glancing back at him. “I wouldn’t count on it, Mr. Jones. Miracles? Christmas? I don’t believe in that kind of thing.” The elevator doors slid open, and as I stepped inside, I heard him call out, “Maybe this Christmas will change your mind, Miss Samantha!” As the doors closed, I sighed, shaking my head. Christmas miracles? I scoffed under my breath, feeling the familiar ache settle in. ”I don’t believe in that.” ******** I took a deep breath, straightening my shoulders and grounding myself for the day ahead. “Focus, Samantha.” No need to dwell on Mr. Jones’s Christmas pep talk or let my mind wander back to... everything else. I’d keep my head down, work through the holiday season, and maybe even manage to save enough for new art supplies. That would be my “Christmas miracle.” The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out, heading into the store. Festive decorations covered every corner, and holiday music hummed in the background. I made a point of ignoring it. “Good morning, Samantha!” Rosy’s cheerful voice rang out as she hurried toward me, her face practically glowing. “Ready for today? It’s going to be crazy busy soon!” I mustered a grin. “Born ready,” I said, making my way to the employee changing room. I opened my locker and stuffed my bag inside, pulling out my work vest. “Guess what!” Rosy said, practically bouncing with excitement. She held up her phone to show me a photo of herself and a tall, beaming guy with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. I rolled my eyes, already knowing she’d make me guess. “You know I’m terrible at guessing, Rosy. Just spill.” She giggled, unable to contain herself. “My boyfriend’s taking me to meet his family for the holidays! Isn’t that huge? I mean, that’s a pretty big step, right?” I forced a smile, adjusting my vest. “Wow, Rosy. That’s… great.” I tried to sound genuinely happy for her, but it was hard. The idea of meeting a boyfriend’s family felt as foreign as Mars. Rosy kept looking at her phone, smiling dreamily. “Maybe it means he’s serious about us, you know?” I tried to keep my face neutral as I responded, *Or maybe not.* I’d seen enough guys who’d parade you in front of their family one day and ghost you the next. But I knew it would crush Rosy if I said that out loud. So, I forced another smile. “Yeah… could be. I’m happy for you,” I said, hoping it sounded convincing enough. She grinned, oblivious to my inner doubts. “Thanks, Sam. I know you are.” I nodded, returning her smile, even though my stomach twisted. I’d learned not to believe in love, or in happily-ever-afters. Not anymore. This is a great moment to show Samantha’s resistance to romance and Rosy’s determination to get her out of her comfort zone. Rosy looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. “So, what about you? What are your plans for the holidays? And please don’t tell me you’re just planning to work extra hours and skip the festivities again?” I closed my locker and shrugged. “Exactly. Working all through the holiday.” Rosy let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head at me with that look—the one that told me she was about to launch into one of her “life advice” speeches. “Samantha, you’ve gotta live a little. It’s not all work, work, work! Why not go out, meet someone new? Or hey, maybe have some… you know… Christmas fun?” I rolled my eyes, half-laughing. “You know I’m not into meeting random guys just for a fling. That’s not exactly my style.” Rosy groaned, clearly unimpressed. “What’s so wrong with meeting someone new, Sam? You haven’t dated anyone since… well, since *him*. And honestly? It feels like you’ve built this cage around yourself, closing out everything fun!” I gave her a small smile and adjusted my vest in the mirror. “Working extra is my idea of fun. And besides, the extra money means more art supplies. That’s worth something, right?” Rosy rolled her eyes, stepping closer and crossing her arms as she gave me a determined stare. “Nope. Not this year, Samantha. It’s almost Christmas, and I’m not letting you spend it hiding from the world. I want to see you out there, actually enjoying the holiday season for once.” I narrowed my eyes, catching the mischievous spark in hers. “What are you planning, Rosy?” She grinned, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, nothing much. Just a little… blind date.”