Stranded with the Billionaire

The Waldorf Astoria’s grand ballroom glittered with wealth and excess. Crystal chandeliers bathed the crowd in golden light, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. Juniper Hale didn’t belong here. Not in this world of billionaire elites who threw charity galas to ease their guilt while hoarding wealth.But tonight, she wasn’t here to blend in. She was here for a fight.Adjusting the simple navy dress she had borrowed from a friend because unlike everyone here, she didn’t have a closet full of designer gowns. She scanned the room until she found him.Adrian Blackwood.He stood near the bar, effortlessly commanding attention. Dressed in a sleek black tux, he exuded confidence, swirling a glass of bourbon as he smirked at something his business partner said. The way he carried himself, like he owned every space he stepped into, set Juniper’s nerves on edge. He was arrogant, ruthless, and exactly the type of man who had the power to save her nonprofit.If she

The storm raged on, shaking the villa with every gust of wind. Rain pounded against the windows like a relentless drumbeat, and thunder cracked so loudly that Juniper swore she felt it in her bones.She stood near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, watching palm trees bend under the force of the hurricane. The dark ocean churned violently beyond the cliffs, waves crashing against the rocks with terrifying force.Behind her, Adrian sat on the couch, his usual smug confidence replaced with something quieter, tenser. He had barely spoken since the power went out, and that alone was unsettling.Juniper turned to him, crossing her arms. “So, is this where you admit that maybe, just maybe, you should have taken this storm more seriously?”Adrian exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you are looking for an ‘I told you so,’ you are not getting one.”She arched a brow. “I’ll take that as a silent confession.”The candlelight flickered between them, casting long shadows across

Juniper’s pulse pounded in her ears as the shadow outside the office door shifted. The villa was too quiet, the usual crash of the waves against the cliffs suddenly feeling distant, muted by the suffocating silence.She gripped her phone tighter, her body pressed against the wall. Where the hell was Adrian?The doorknob twisted.Juniper’s breath hitched.Before she could react, the door burst open, and a dark figure lunged inside.She spun away, scrambling toward the desk, her hands fumbling for anything she could use as a weapon. Her fingers wrapped around a heavy glass paperweight just as the intruder reached for her.“Don’t,” she warned, lifting the makeshift weapon.The figure hesitated. The dim moonlight filtering through the windows revealed a man dressed in black, his face partially concealed by a mask. His stance was tense, calculated.Not a burglar. Someone with a purpose.“What do you want?” she demanded, inching toward the door.The man didn’t answer. Instead, he took anoth

The sharp wind of New York City whipped against Juniper’s face as she stepped out of the taxi, her coat billowing around her. The city felt colder than she remembered, harsher, less forgiving. Or maybe she was just different.A week had passed since she had left the island. Seven days since Adrian had told her to walk away. Seven days of silence, of questions echoing in her mind, of restless nights spent staring at her ceiling, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.Adrian Blackwood was no longer just the billionaire she loathed. He was a man tangled in her past, in the deepest wound of her life, her mother’s death. And instead of answers, all she had was his cryptic confession and the slamming door of his villa.She tightened her grip on her purse, forcing herself to focus. Whatever had happened between them, it didn’t matter now. The past was a ghost she had no intention of chasing.She walked briskly through the glass doors of The Hale Foundation, her nonprofit’s headq

The storm had passed, but its ghost lingered in the heavy air, thick with humidity and the distant scent of salt. Juniper sat by the massive four-poster bed, watching Adrian’s chest rise and fall in uneven breaths. His skin was pale, damp with sweat, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion.The fever had taken hold quickly, one moment he’d been standing in the boardroom, defiant in the face of his ousting, and the next, he had collapsed, his body finally surrendering to the relentless pressure.Now, he was barely conscious.Juniper dipped a cloth into the cool water beside her, wrung it out, and pressed it against his forehead. He let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly toward her touch.It was unsettling to see him like this. Adrian Blackwood was always in control, always commanding. Seeing him vulnerable and weak did something strange to her chest.He murmured something incoherent.She leaned in. “Adrian?”His lashes fluttered.“Stay,” he rasped.Juniper hesitated.She sho