Keeping Me Adrift

Keeping Me Adrift: A Grumpy Billionaire Romance Zoe Wolfe Copyright © 2023 by Zoe Wolfe All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter 1: Jenny on the Clock – Jenny 2. Chapter 2: Hide and Seek – Jenny 3. Chapter 3: Pesty Mosquito – Trevor 4. Chapter 4: Into the Fray – Jenny 5. Chapter 5: Lust at First Sight – Jenny 6. Chapter 6: Aftermath – Jenny 7. Chapter 7: Cracked Shell – Trevor 8. Chapter 8: Speaking of Temptations – Jenny 9. Chapter 9: A Nightcap to Remember – Jenny 10. Chapter 10: In the Morning Light – Jenny 11. Chapter 11: What to Do? – Jenny 12. Chapter 12: Brutal Betrayal – Trevor 13. Chapter 13: Making a Scene – Jenny 14. Chapter 14: Intervention – Trevor 15. Chapter 15: The Truth Finds a Way – Jenny 16. Chapter 16: Worth It for This – Trevor 17. Chapter 17: Breaking Up News – Jenny 18. Chapter 18: Sea-clusion – Trevor 19. Chapter 19: For the Record – Jenny 20. Epilogue: New Horizons – Jenny Chapter 1: Jenny on the Clock – Jenny I’m pulled from a dream by the sound of my alarm. Stretching my arms I luxuriate for a moment in the warmth of the sun seeping through the blinds, illuminating in stripes the soft lavender of my bedroom walls and the clutter of books on my bedside table. I fumble groggily for the snooze button, then linger on the dream I’d been pulled from so rudely. Smiling wryly, I reflect on the irony that, with my life consumed by my career of late, I’ve been having dreams that are so decidedly not safe for work. Then again, it’s possible that my brain is trying to tell me what I’m missing. But in my line of work—and at this stage in my career—there’s no option but to devote myself entirely. There’s no room for anything else. At the thought of work, a sense of dread washes over me, despite the fresh sun. Today is the day my article will be published. My heart lifts at the thought of the recognition it’ll bring me, but a part of me can’t help but ache knowing it’s going to cause some damage. With a heavy sigh, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed, eyes drawn as with every morning to the glass doors that lead to the balcony. A breathtaking vision of the Miami Beach skyline reveals the ocean and the bustling city below. Making my way through the small, cozy apartment to the kitchen, the hardwood floors creak slightly beneath my bare feet. I pause for a moment to appreciate the view from the balcony, inhaling salty sea air and listening to the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, trying to stifle the mixture of nerves, excitement, and guilt. Soon, the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the apartment. As I sip my first cup, I absentmindedly scroll through my phone, stumbling upon an article about local billionaire Trevor Dalton. It’s all vague rumors about his shady business dealings. Is there anyone with money who isn’t corrupt? But despite myself, my eyes linger on the photograph of him beside the text. Against my better judgment, I feel a flutter in my chest as I take in his dark hair, his aquatic eyes, and the way he fills that suit. Before I can stop myself, I’m imagining what might lie underneath. I shake my head and remind myself who he is. My own article, meanwhile, is centered on a corrupt politician. While I can’t ignore the excitement of seeing my name on the byline for Global Wave, I also can’t help but feel guilty for the collateral damage it’ll likely cause. It’s part of the job—it’s for the sake of my career—but it stings when that comes at the expense of hurting anyone. In the bathroom, I shrug off my silk pajamas and step into the shower, leaning back as the hot water streams through my hair…trying not to dwell on the article. Which only leaves room for me to dwell on that damn photograph. It’s irritating that someone so repugnant can look like…that. Steering my mind away from him, I just end up dwelling on my article again. I’d worked tirelessly on the article for weeks to uncover some damning evidence. The politician isn’t only involved in a steamy affair but, more importantly, has been using taxpayer funds to finance his lavish lifestyle with this mistress of his. I had to dig through countless documents, interviewing anyone who was willing to talk. I spent exhausting hours staking out the politician’s favorite haunts. It was hard work, but the story was too important to ignore. Expensive dinners, exotic trips to far-off destinations—all at the expense of the public. I even got my hands on photos of the couple exiting a luxury hotel on St. Barts. The evidence is solid, and the article’s going to make waves. But I can’t shake the guilt, no matter how justified the story might be. My pride is accompanied by an uncomfortable awareness of the potential consequences for the politician’s family. Stopping before the mirror on my way to the door, I twist my hair into its typical bun; It’s a bit messy as always, but I haven’t got the patience to waste my time on it. My eyes wander the freckles on my face until they arrive at their own bright-green reflections. An image of a different set of eyes—piercing blue—penetrates my thoughts again. As the elevator doors close, I take a deep breath and push the guilty feelings aside. I need to embrace this small victory and move on to my next assignment, whatever that may be. *** As I walk through the Global Wave parking lot, lost in thought, Maria appears at