Page 9 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have no plans to bother you.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Sweetheart?”
“Would you prefer Tornado?”
She glares. “I’d prefer Carter-shuts-the-hell-up.”
I let out a laugh, and for a second, her lips twitch like she’s fighting the urge to smile. But then, just as quickly, she schools her expression back into irritation.
The wind outside howls a little louder, rattling the windows, and she glances toward the storm clouds rolling in over the ocean. I follow her gaze.
“You sure this is the relaxing trip you had in mind?” I ask, watching the way her fingers tighten around her cup.
She exhales, and her voice is softer, more subdued for the first time since I met her. “Honestly? No. My friend warned me about this storm, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be so bad. I just wanted to get away. But this stormy vacation isn’t ideal. Nothing about his vacation so far is ideal, but… it’s what I’ve got.”
I study her for a moment. The frustration is there, but beneath it, something else lingers—exhaustion, maybe. Or something deeper.
“You know,” I say, setting my cup down, “I’ve got a deck of cards. We could kill some time, maybe play a few rounds?”
She arches a brow. “Are you seriously suggesting we bond over cards?”
I shrug. “Unless you’d rather sit in awkward silence for the next twelve hours.”
She huffs, but there’s something lighter in her expression now. “Fine. But just so you know, I always win.”
I grin, heading toward my bag to grab the deck. “Oh, Tornado, you have no idea what you just signed up for.”
She rolls her eyes, but I swear there’s a flicker of amusement there.
And just like that, our battle of wills turns into a game of cards, the storm raging outside while an entirely different kind of tension simmers between us.
We play a few rounds, and despite her best efforts to maintain her usual irritated façade, I catch the occasional twitch of her lips when she wins a hand. She’s competitive—annoyingly so—but I have to admit, it’s entertaining watching her get so worked up over a game of cards.
The storm outside is picking up, rattling the windows, and the power flickers for a brief moment before stabilizing again. I glance at Ivy, whose fingers tighten on her cards.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her closely.
She nods quickly, a little too quickly. “Fine. Just… not really a fan of storms.”
Noted.
I don’t push, and we keep playing, the wind howling outside as the tension between us shifts—still there, but different now. Less hostile, more… tolerable.
But as soon as I let my guard down, Ivy slaps her cards onto the table with a victorious grin. “Boom! Read ’em and weep.”
I glance at her winning hand and chuckle. “Alright, alright. You win this round.”
She crosses her arms, smug. “Told you.”
I shake my head, taking another sip of my drink. “Now that you’re all cocky from winning, how about we address the real issue here?”
Her brows furrow. “Which is?”
I gesture around the room. “We’re stuck here together for… wait, when do you leave?” I ask.
“In eight days. This was a ten-day package that I booked through my credit card company, which included my flight. I considered canceling when I found out about the storm but of course there weren’t any refunds and I wasn’t about to lose my much-needed vacation I had been saving up for, so… here I am. I’m so happy you had to be here to ruin it for me,” she feels the need to add.
“Look, I don’t think either of us wants to spend that time bickering like an old married couple.”
