Page 1 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

CHAPTER 1

Ivy

“I still think this is a bad idea,” my best friend Vanessa says, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, watching as I shove the last of my clothes into my suitcase. “Let me rephrase; it’s a terrible idea. There’s a storm heading straight for the Big Island. I really think it’s best if you postpone this trip, Ivy.”

I snort, zipping up my bag. “Right, because my boss is definitely going to postpone my unemployment if I don’t finish this story on time. I’m basically on borrowed time here, Ness.”

Vanessa sighs. “I’m just saying you could stay here and find another way to unwind so you can get this story done. You don’t have to fly into a potential hurricane. You know, most people avoid flying directly into a natural disaster.”

I don’t look up. I’m too busy shoving clothes into my suitcase with the kind of frantic energy that says I’m fine even though I’m clearly not. Think Bridget Jones post-breakup melting down with wine, ice cream, and a power ballad—but with more denim and less dignity.

“It’s not a disaster,” I mutter. “It’s a mild inconvenience with palm trees.”

Vanessa snorts. “A hurricane heading straight for the Big Island isn’t exactly mild, Ivy. This is borderline insane. You don’t even like the beach, and we both know you hate bad weather. Your hair starts frizzing just thinking about humidity—right now, you look like a damp poodle. Is that really the vibe you want to bring to Hawaii?”

She throws up her hands, eyes wide with mock concern. “What if you run into someone hot? Like, Maui-from-Moana hot. You think he’s gonna fall for ‘electrocuted poodle’ energy? No, girl. He’s leaving you in the cave and paddling off into the sunset. I’m just trying to protect your dignity.”

That’s one of the things that’s always bonded us. I don’t know who’s more sarcastic, me or her, but between the two of us, we could run a sarcasm hotline. We speak fluent side-eye, specialize in over-the-top dramatics, and maintain a lifelong agreement to roast each other out of love. It’s chaos—but it’s ours.

I laugh as I grab a pair of sandals and throw them into my bag with a huff, yanking the zipper closed on my suitcase. “First of all, screw you. Second, Maui is a cartoon. And third—it’s not that bad. I’m just going on vacation.”

Vanessa snorts, her brow furrowing deeper. “Vacation? Ivy, you’re about to board a plane into the middle of a storm!”

I pause, considering her words. But then I shake my head, a smile creeping onto my face. “You’re always so dramatic. I’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I have a voucher for margaritas. What could possibly go wrong?” She shakes her head in disbelief.

“I’ve been saving for this trip for months, Ness. Plus, it’s non-refundable. You know what that means? I’m going. As long as I get there before the storm, I’ll just cozy up in my bungalow and ride it out. It’s not a big deal if I’m stuck inside of a beautiful resort with everything I need. The resort assured me they have everything in place for safety. Everything will be fine. Better than fine. Think of it as an adventure.”

She still doesn’t look convinced. In fact, she looks downright exasperated. “You’re not just going to unwind, Ivy. You’re running away.”

I wave her off. “Ness, do I need to remind you that just last week, my lovely editor—aka the devil in a Patagonia vest—cornered me in the office with a charming ultimatum: get the story done, or he’d happily assign it to the intern he just hired from Columbia? I’m not sure what stung more, the threat or the fact that he pronounced Haleakala like he was choking.”

She lets out a loud laugh and I smile.

“If everything goes smoothly, this could mean a fresh start for Jeremy. This story is too important for me to be this distracted. I need to go somewhere I can focus.”

So here I am, about to fly straight into a storm with a half-charged phone and a carry-on full of existential dread.

“I’m aware Ivy, I just don’t think you have to risk your life for it.”

“Risk my life? Vanessa, this is a vacation to one of the most adored places in the world. Besides, I don’t have a choice, you know how important this story is,” I say.

Vanessa’s expression softens. “You always have a choice.”

“No. I don’t,” I shoot back. “I’m broke, blacklisted, and one missed assignment away from becoming a barista with a useless journalism degree. This piece is my shot. Plus, it will give peace of mind to so many people.”

She watches me for a long beat before sighing. “Nope. You should stay. I’ll buy ice cream. We’ll rewatchMindhunter. I’ll even pretend you don’t narrate murder scenes like you’re the FBI.”

I almost laugh. Almost. “I appreciate the offer, but I already checked in for my flight—and more importantly, as I said before, I have a non-refundable booking for a bungalow with a hot tub. I’m going.”

Vanessa looks at me like she’s about to handcuff herself to my suitcase. “You’re not just running to something, Ivy. You’re running from something.”

My fingers hesitate on the zipper. My smile is brittle. “Aren’t we all?”

Vanessa gives me a pointed look, then finally shakes her head in resignation. “Fine. Go. But don’t call me in the middle of the night when you’re bored without power and no wifi while you’re out there hiding away.”

I roll my eyes again, but this time it’s less about deflecting and more about avoiding the truth. “I’m not hiding, Ness. I’m just… recharging.”

She doesn’t push it. Just steps forward and gives me a fierce hug, whispering, “Don’t die, okay?”

---