Rubi Rose dropped jaws and raised blood pressure with a holiday lingerie promo that looked more like a striptease than a sales pitch.

She pulled up in a pinstripe blazer with a blazing red bra underneath, no shirt, no shame, all chest. That bra wasn’t hiding a damn thing. It was loud, proud and front-row center.

Hair laid, lighting hitting and her cleavage glistening like it belonged on top of the damn Christmas tree.

First pic?

Rubi’s bent over a mannequin like she’s giving it a private lesson in seduction. Her hands are all over the bra like she’s adjusting the volume. That red-on-skin combo? Wild. The camera’s basically drooling over every curve.

Then she slides into a chair, leans back like she owns the place, and lets that blazer hang on for dear life. The way she’s posed? The bra’s doing overtime, lifting, shaping, and holding everything like it’s got something to prove. Spoiler: it does.

Next shot, she’s holding the mannequin’s head like she’s about to kiss it or confess her sins. But let’s be real, nobody’s looking at the dummy.

All eyes are locked on that glossy red bra, peeking through her hair. It’s giving “CEO of sexy” and “don’t touch unless you’re on payroll.”

Then boom: she’s standing in front of a Christmas tree like she’s the damn present. Blazer buttoned just enough to tease, bra still peeking like it’s playing peekaboo with your soul.

Naughty list energy with a side of boss chick branding.