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Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-10-29
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Clarkson Roberts is America's youngest shipping billionaire tycoon, ruling his empire with ruthless efficiency. The world views him as immovable, unstoppable—yet behind the button-down collars and billion-dollar deals lies a man tangled in secrets. Jonah Jones is a brilliant marine architect with intransigent principles and a wall of debt. Assigned to revamp Clarkson's private yacht fleet, Jonah sees trouble ahead with his impossible new boss—but not lust. What begins as a sparring over ship designs and price tags quickly ignites into a dangerous passion. But when corporate scandals, shareholder intimidation, and past treachery are thrown into the mix, Clarkson and Jonah must decide: can their love be strong enough to weather a storm that could consume them both?
Lihat lebih banyakBab 1
Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Architect
Moi c'est Isis, j'ai bientôt 18 ans et je suis une fan inconditionnelle d'Harry Miles.
J'aime tellement ses musiques, sa voix, son physique! Mon rêve est de le rencontrer un jour mais évidemment, ce n'est qu'un rêve.
Aujourd'hui, 6h40 du matin. Comme tous les matins je surf sur mon fil d'actualité I*******m, Harry a posté une photo où l'on peut voir la lettre "K".
Je regarde les commentaires, toutes les fans hystériques pensent qu'il s'agit de Kendall...
"oh no! Not this bitch!"
"Je vais le tuer s'il s'est remit avec!"
"Ahhhhhh non!!"
C'est trop. Je décide de poster un commentaire simple que sans doute personne ne va lire.
"Leave him alone. He's an adult and do, post what he wants. So, please stop. For his happiness"
(Laissez le tranquille. Il est adulte et fait, poste ce qu'il veut. Alors, s'il vous plaît arrêtez. Pour son bonheur)
J'éteins mon portable et me prépare pour aller au lycée.
7h30, Oxford.
-Hey baby! Cria ma meilleure amie, Jade
-Hey Jijou!
-M'appelle plus jamais comme ça. Elle me regarde énervée
-Ok Jijou. Je réplique
-Rahhhhh viens là que je te tues!!!
~
18h, une journée de cours des plus normales, et ennuyantes. J'en ai marre de ce train-train... Se lever, prendre le bus, aller en cours, prendre le bus, et dormir. Épuisant.
Mon portable vibre. Je le prend et allume mon écran. Une notification I*******m.
"@harrymiles a commencé à vous suivre."
Et mon cœur s'arrêta net.
Bab terbaru
Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 301. Epilogue, Dedication, Author's Note, and Acknowledgement
Epilogue – The Horizon's Song(From Jonah's Perspective – Ten Years Later)The sea still smells the same — that wild, salty odor of freedom and memory. I come back here every year, to the same spot on Maine's coast where it began. The waves still remember us. They sing the same gentle tune that once washed over our terrors, whispering secrets only the wind and sea know.Clarkson sits within, reading again — age has silvered his hair, but not extinguished his fire. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of him smiling above the rim of his spectacles when he thinks I am not watching. He is still the same fellow who built his world with bare hands and a fierce, boundless love. The world has called him a legend, but to me, he is just the bloke who taught me how to ride through storms.The foundation thrived. The yacht became a vessel of hope — putt-putting from dock to dock, sheltering young idealists and heartbroken souls who think that the world will never accept them. We teach them what we learne
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-10-29Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 300. Hearts at the Helm
The sun rose as an artist, not a warrior. It had not forced itself upon the darkness with great, angry brushstrokes, but had let it thin out softly, washing the black canvas of sky to pale indigo and from that on to the pale, watery grey of a dove's wing. The stars, sharp and insistent, faded to invisibility, their final tremors like the final trills of a lost symphony. The atmosphere was ice-cold and crystalline, so still that the world appeared to hold its breath in expectation of permission to begin. And then, with a mildness that was incongruous with its immense force, the sun sliced across the horizon. It was no shattering burst, but a gentle, irrepressible overflowing, bathing the limitless, throbbing level of the sea in a fluid, peach-gold light which seemed to emanate from the water itself.On the Aether's deck, they were already on the move in this quiet, early morning world. Theirs was a silent, choreographed routine of preparing, a ritual of many a morning this one. There w
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-10-29Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 299. The Compass
The last sparks of the sunset had burned out to cinder, leaving a sky of deep, rich indigo like a bruise, cut by the sharp, icy edge of a billion stars. The Aether was a world unto its own, a tiny island of heat and light suspended on an infinite, dark ocean. The only sound was the timeless, gentle sigh of the water against the hull and the soft, measured beat of their breathing.They leaned against the railing, wrapped in the same blanket, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, as if their bodies had forgotten how to be separate. The radiance of the sunset had been reduced to an intimacy so vast it had become its own type of universe. Words had been rare, unnecessary. Silence was a language they spoke.Then Clarkson shifted. He edged, going slowly and cautiously, and into his trousers' pocket he thrust his hand. The fabric whispered softly in the stillness. He pulled out the compass. The brass casing in the dim starlight was a dull glow, a caught piece of history. He set it flat on his p
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-10-29Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 298. Sunset Reflections
The world had been simplified to fire and water. The Aether, her engines hushed, rode the gentle, breathing swells of the open water, a little, dark silhouette against a sky in the process of dying magnificently. No shore was visible, no other vessel. They'd been at sea for hours, a deliberate, silent passage out from it all—a distance from the city, the foundation, the book, the cheers.They had traveled until the horizon was a sharp, unbroken line, and they were utterly, blissfully alone. The sun was not dying. It was a blaze. The sun, a giant, bloated ball of orange, fell toward the water as if it was going to drown itself and pull the sky down with it. The clouds were not wisps, but vast, battered banners of violet and magenta, with streaks of blazing gold. The light did not illuminate; it burned, and the entire world glowed in its mad, beautiful colors.The sea was on fire, a sheet of flame running from the ends of the earth to the ends of the earth.They stood together at the st
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-10-29Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 295. The Foundation's Future
The Roberts-Jones Foundation for Equity & Belonging had outgrown its name. Something that began as a passionate response to solitary pain—a check penned in a silent penthouse, a housing complex created out of Jonah's fierce empathy—had taken on a life of its own. It was no longer just a foundation;
Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 294. Letters from Afar
The Aether party melted into a contented, exhausted quiet. The champagne flutes had been washed and put away, the last laugh a soft memory in their minds. The bride and groom sat together on the living room sofa of the Maine house, a soft wool thrown over their knees, the fire crackling in the fire
Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 292. The First Kiss as Husbands
The final vow had been uttered, the rings had been exchanged, the last holy word had been spoken. There was a silence, more profound than any that had ever been. It was a silence of completion, of a circle being closed perfectly, irrevocably. It was the heft of what had been and the breathless pote
Hearts at the Helm:A Billionaire's Gamble on Love Chapter 297. The Launch Event
The bookstore was a shrine of silent expectation. It was one of those mythic, independent bookshops in the West Village, with groaning wooden floors and shelves that swept toward a pressed-tin ceiling, heavy with the smell of old paper, new ink, and a hundred years' worth of precious stories. But t
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