Page 15 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

The wind whips around us, tugging at our clothes and hair, but Carter’s presence beside me is a grounding force. The rain starts to fall in thick sheets, drenching us within seconds.

We reach the bungalow just as thunder rumbles overhead.

I rush to change out of my wet clothes, grateful for the shelter of the bungalow. Carter is already peeling off his soaked shirt, revealing a toned chest and tattoos that makes me avert my eyes quickly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

With a towel wrapped around me, I watch as Carter rummages through his bag, pulling out dry clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind if I borrow some of your clothes,” he says sheepishly, holding up a T-shirt.

I chuckle, feeling more at ease with him. “Go for it. I doubt you’d fit into any of my clothing anyway.”

Carter grins and tosses the shirt at me. “Catch!”

“I don’t even know how that got in there,” I say, inspecting the shirt.

He shrugs. “Not sure. I must’ve grabbed it by accident thinking it was one of my white tees. But who knows—maybe if my roommate’s belongings weren’t all over the place, these little mishaps wouldn’t happen.” He glances at me.

“Well, not everyone can be a perfectionist, Mr. Matching Socks,” I joke.

He lets out a loud laugh. “You know, you should really work on your insults.”

He grabs a pair of shorts before disappearing into the bathroom to change. The sound of rain against the windows creates a cozy ambiance, contrasting with the storm raging outside.

As I wait for Carter to finish changing, I light a few candles scattered around the bungalow to ward off the encroaching darkness.

Then he steps out—looking way too damn fine.

CHAPTER 6

Carter

The thing about being stuck in a luxury bungalow during a tropical storm with a beautiful woman I barely know? It messes with my head.

She’s curled up on the couch now, wrapped in a blanket with a candle flickering on the nearby table. The electricity’s still holding, but barely. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the wind is starting to throw palm leaves against the windows. The air smells like rain and sea salt… and something vaguely sweet. Coconut, maybe?

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and lean against the counter. “You’re quiet.”

She doesn’t look up right away. “Just checking the news. They’re saying the storm might hover over the island longer than expected.”

Of course it is. I nod. “Figures. Bad weather, bad timing… seems to be the theme lately.”

Her eyes lift to mine, narrowing with that usual sharpness. “Trouble in billionaire paradise?”

I grin. “You know, you’ve really got to stop assuming I’m a walking Rolex ad.”

“You’re not?” she says, cocking a brow. “Because you’ve definitely got big ‘private jet on standby’ energy.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I move toward the couch and sit on the armrest beside her. “You know, you really are something special, Ivy. My jet is medium-sized, thank you very much.”

She snorts, but I catch the edge of amusement in her eyes. And… something softer. Tired, maybe. Or guarded.

“Well,” I say after a beat, “if you’re wondering why I’m really here… you’re not wrong. I needed a break. My company’s in the middle of a complicated merger, the board’s panicking, and there’s this looming threat of a hostile takeover. Every minute I’m back home, I’m either in damage control or prepping for battle.”

She blinks at me. “Sounds… exhausting.”

“It is.” I rub the back of my neck. “My assistant booked this place without asking. Said if I didn’t take a break, I’d have a heart attack at thirty-eight.”

She softens just a bit. “So you came. That’s good. I know how easy it is to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, so it’s always nice to take a breather.”

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