Page 54 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

He takes a seat across from me, his expression softening. “Is everything okay?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say. “Carter, there’s something I need to tell you.” The words hangs heavily between us, tension crackling in the air.

His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. “What is it?”

I pause, searching for the right words.

But as life would have it, a knock on the door has him springing to his feet.

“Hold that thought,” he says, brushing a kiss across my lips before standing to answer it.

At the door stands a man in a maintenance uniform, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Volcor? We’re just here to check on the unit. Saw you reported some flooding. After a quick inspection, we’d love to offer you and your wife a complimentary tour of the island while we get this place cleaned up. What do you say?”

Carter flashes his easy grin. “Sounds perfect.”

The man beams. “Your driver will be here in an hour. Take your time getting ready. He’ll wait for you outside.”

After the door closes, Carter turns back to me, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“How about we finish that serious talk later?” he says, crossing the room in a few easy strides. He tugs me up from the chair and into his arms, the smile on his lips pure trouble. “Right now… I’ve got to take my wife on a tour.”

He winks.

Universe… just swallow me whole!

Our off-road Jeep sits waiting for us near the entrance, stripped-down and rugged, the paint dusted with dried mud. It’s open-air but roomy, with a canvas top stretched overhead.

Carter helps me into the back seat, and even though there’s plenty of space for us to spread out, he slides in close beside me anyway, his arm stretched lazily along the seat behind my shoulders.

The driver greets us with an easy smile. “Perfect day for exploring. The island always shines after a good storm.”

As we pull away from the resort, the breeze lifts my hair, and I lean into the gentle warmth of it. The world blurs into lush jungle and black volcanic rock, the road winding higher into the hills.

Carter tips his head back against the seat, sunglasses perched low on his nose, looking every bit the man you fall for without meaning to.

I let myself watch him for a moment, soaking it in—the curve of his smile, the way his hand rests casually but protectively near mine.

Our first stop is a roadside fruit stand tucked under a grove of palm trees. Strings of shells dangle from the beams, clinking softly in the breeze. The stand smells like ripe mangoes, sugarcane, and warm wood.

Carter buys us two fresh coconuts, the tops cracked open with machete precision, and hands one to me with a teasing bow.

“To surviving tempests,” he says, bumping his straw against mine.

“And finding peace on the other side,” I answer softly.

The coconut water is cool and sweet, a shock against the humidity still lingering in the air. We sip quietly, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, the gentle clink of shells, and the soft hum of waves beyond the trees.

Back in the Jeep, Carter rolls the side canvas up to let more air in. His thigh brushes mine—not crammed, just close enough to feel each other. Being with him feels so natural.

We wind higher into the hills, stopping at lookout points that take my breath away—vast valleys carpeted in green, waterfalls slicing through cliffs like silver threads, the ocean sprawling endlessly beyond it all.

At one lookout, Carter wraps his arm around my waist and points out a rainbow arcing faintly over the mountains. His hand stays there, fingers brushing my side like he’s memorizing the feel of me.

“You doing okay?” he asks quietly when he catches me staring too long at the horizon.

I nod, but something in me stirs. Some ache for a life I’ve never had but could almost imagine, here with him.

Our next stop is a small open-air market in a nearby village. Wooden stalls burst with handmade jewelry, handwoven baskets, and brightly dyed sarongs fluttering in the breeze.

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