Page 10
Story: Falling for Mr. Billionaire
She scoffs. “Please. I wouldn’t marry you in a nightmare.”
I smirk. “Now, who’s full of themselves?.”
Her mouth opens—probably to throw an insult my way—but then she exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Whatever. What’s your point?”
“My point is,” I lean forward, “we should set a few ground rules. To keep the peace.”
Ivy leans back, crossing her arms, clearly suspicious. “That is an excellent idea. You can go first. Let’s hear them.”
I hold up a finger. “First—privacy. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. No unnecessary interruptions.”
“Agreed,” she says quickly. “Which means you don’t get to just knock on my door at noon and demand entry.”
I chuckle. “Your door, huh? I don’t remember offering you my bed. I mean, maybe we can share it?” I recommend, and she bursts into laughter.
“Maybe the resort staff can offer you a bed somewhere else,” she says, clearly referring to the young lady who was here before who’s name I can’t remember for the life of me. She adds, “And no barging in when I’m in the shower.”
I raise a brow. “Are you saying I should barge in when you’re not in the shower?”
Her cheeks darken. “Rule number two—no talking to me before I’ve had coffee.”
I place a hand over my heart, mock-offended. “But what if I wake up with the urgent need to annoy you?”
“Then I’ll throw you off the balcony.”
I grin. “Noted. Moving on—third rule: we split chores. If one of us cooks, the other does dishes.”
She nods slowly. “Alright, that’s reasonable. But you should know, I don’t cook.”
“Well, that works great because I’m not much of a dishes guy.” I wink. “Fourth, no talking about work. I’m here to unwind, and work is the last thing I want to discuss.”
“Fine. But I’m here to work, so I just won’t be able to tell you about it—which will be so difficult since I had plans of divulging my entire life to you effective immediately,” she says sarcastically.
“And fifth,” I say, smirking now, “if we make any bets, loser has to buy the winner a drink.”
She snorts. “Of course you’d add a dumb gambling rule.”
“What’s the matter, Tornado? Afraid of losing?”
She rolls her eyes but smirks. “Fine. But no stupid bets. And definitely no drinking games.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Deal.”
She studies me for a second, her expression unreadable. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe this is my life right now.”
I chuckle. “It could be worse.”
“Oh yeah?” She quirks a brow. “How?”
I grin. “You could’ve ended up with a roommate who actually annoys you.”
She leans forward to grab a pen from the counter, her hip brushes mine. I freeze for a second. She doesn’t move away, and neither do I. Her warmth lingers against me like a dare.
She glances up, her eyes sharp. “Personal space is one of the rules, right?”
I smirk. “You’re the one who keeps breaking it.”
She groans, standing up and grabbing her coffee. “I need to get some work done, so I’ll sit in the cabana by the beach since the weather isn’t so bad right now.
I smirk. “Now, who’s full of themselves?.”
Her mouth opens—probably to throw an insult my way—but then she exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Whatever. What’s your point?”
“My point is,” I lean forward, “we should set a few ground rules. To keep the peace.”
Ivy leans back, crossing her arms, clearly suspicious. “That is an excellent idea. You can go first. Let’s hear them.”
I hold up a finger. “First—privacy. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. No unnecessary interruptions.”
“Agreed,” she says quickly. “Which means you don’t get to just knock on my door at noon and demand entry.”
I chuckle. “Your door, huh? I don’t remember offering you my bed. I mean, maybe we can share it?” I recommend, and she bursts into laughter.
“Maybe the resort staff can offer you a bed somewhere else,” she says, clearly referring to the young lady who was here before who’s name I can’t remember for the life of me. She adds, “And no barging in when I’m in the shower.”
I raise a brow. “Are you saying I should barge in when you’re not in the shower?”
Her cheeks darken. “Rule number two—no talking to me before I’ve had coffee.”
I place a hand over my heart, mock-offended. “But what if I wake up with the urgent need to annoy you?”
“Then I’ll throw you off the balcony.”
I grin. “Noted. Moving on—third rule: we split chores. If one of us cooks, the other does dishes.”
She nods slowly. “Alright, that’s reasonable. But you should know, I don’t cook.”
“Well, that works great because I’m not much of a dishes guy.” I wink. “Fourth, no talking about work. I’m here to unwind, and work is the last thing I want to discuss.”
“Fine. But I’m here to work, so I just won’t be able to tell you about it—which will be so difficult since I had plans of divulging my entire life to you effective immediately,” she says sarcastically.
“And fifth,” I say, smirking now, “if we make any bets, loser has to buy the winner a drink.”
She snorts. “Of course you’d add a dumb gambling rule.”
“What’s the matter, Tornado? Afraid of losing?”
She rolls her eyes but smirks. “Fine. But no stupid bets. And definitely no drinking games.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Deal.”
She studies me for a second, her expression unreadable. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe this is my life right now.”
I chuckle. “It could be worse.”
“Oh yeah?” She quirks a brow. “How?”
I grin. “You could’ve ended up with a roommate who actually annoys you.”
She leans forward to grab a pen from the counter, her hip brushes mine. I freeze for a second. She doesn’t move away, and neither do I. Her warmth lingers against me like a dare.
She glances up, her eyes sharp. “Personal space is one of the rules, right?”
I smirk. “You’re the one who keeps breaking it.”
She groans, standing up and grabbing her coffee. “I need to get some work done, so I’ll sit in the cabana by the beach since the weather isn’t so bad right now.
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