The Heiress's Billionaire Wildcard

Chapter 3

Back at the villa, Chase had Harper on the line. “When are you coming back? I’m handling day-to-day, but the board? They’re impossible, Chase. You need to save me.”

“I don’t know, Harps. Still some things to take care of here.” He leaned into the lie smoothly. “By the way, Charles said you’re doing great.” Total b*llsh*t, but she didn’t need to know that.

Chase reclined in the swing, barely listening. His thoughts kept pulling back to her—the heiress who wasn’t playing by anyone’s rules. There was something off-script about her. Wild.

The way she moved in the water, like she was made of it. Not for show, but because it felt like home to her. That untouchable energy, raw and real, was magnetic. He could spot a fake from a mile away, but this girl? She was something else.

In his world, everything was curated. Perfect smiles, perfect moves, everything in its place. But she was chaos wrapped in elegance, not even trying to impress, and that hit him harder than it should have. It wasn’t just about the looks—though, yeah, she was breathtaking. It was the freedom, the way she didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought.

That wildness? It shook something loose in him.

“Chase? You there?”

He blinked, Harper’s voice yanking him back. “Yeah, sorry. Long day.” He cut her off quickly. “I’ll let you know when I’m coming back. Goodnight.”

Chase’s three-month business-s***h-leisure trip was supposed to wrap up in a few days. That plan, however, shattered the moment his hand touched the heiress’s skin.

For the last two years, he hadn’t taken a single day off. Ever since inheriting his father’s empire, stepping into the role of Chairman and CEO wasn’t just exhausting—it was suffocating. Every damn day was a reminder that if his father hadn’t collapsed during that board meeting, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, Chase wouldn’t be here, shackled to a life he didn’t want.

He was made for something else—something freer. But that freedom died along with his old man. Now, he carried the weight of legacy on his shoulders, bound by the chains of duty. It wasn’t a passion. H*ll, it wasn’t even a choice. It was a cage he willingly stepped into, out of respect, out of love—because that was what his parents wanted.

But every time he felt the crushing pressure, the headaches came like clockwork. The only cure? Escape. The jungle pool was his salvation—a hidden oasis he'd demanded the architects include when he built the resort.

As the clock ticked toward midnight, the resort had finally gone quiet. No guests. No interruptions. Just peace. What he craved was silence and solitude—somewhere to shake off the weight he carried and drown the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He grabbed his towel, slinging it over his shoulder, and strode towards the pool. The cool breeze cut through the thick heat of the night, and with each step, the tension in his chest loosened.

The pool was surrounded by thick, lush greenery, a private jungle. It was a sanctuary, a place where no one could find him, no one could reach him. Tossing the towel onto a lounger, he peeled off his t-shirt and slid into the water, the cool embrace washing away the remnants of his day.

Technically, swimming at this hour was against resort policy. But the staff knew him well enough by now. No one was going to question the owner.

He submerged himself, the water closing over his head, and for the first time in hours, his mind cleared. But even here, in the silence of the night, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her. The moment his hand touched her, the connection sparked. Now, it was seared into him—like a brand he couldn’t forget.

The heat of the pool wrapped around Chase, easing the weight pressing on his chest. Swimming always had a way of stripping away the stress, like each stroke through the water chipped away at the tension. After two laps, though, something caught his attention. A rustling sound—soft, but out of place—near the trees lining the pool.

"Hello? Who's there?"

"Shhhh!" A sharp, whispered reply. Definitely a woman. And definitely not supposed to be there.

He swam closer, curiosity piqued. But before he could close the distance, she snapped. "Stay back! Don't come any closer, you'll blow my cover! What’s wrong with you?!"

"What's wrong with me?" He couldn't help the dry chuckle. "You're the one lurking behind trees like some kind of spy."

"Cali? Cali...?" A male voice drifted through the trees, closer now. "Where the h*ll is Cali? She was right here a second ago."

Chase glanced toward the voice, then back to the girl. He didn’t need confirmation to know who it was.

"How would I know? Weren't you supposed to be celebrating with her?" Another voice—female—joined the mix, and they were getting closer.

"Sh*t!” Calista Hope, the ice princess herself, emerged from behind the tree, looking utterly out of place and... nervous.

Chase raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Princess? Playing hide and seek with your own friends?" he teased, enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"I need your help!" Her eyes locked onto his, panic flaring as the voices grew louder.

“Cali? Is that you?” The voices pierced the quiet, now dangerously close.

Chase’s smirk widened. She was cornered, and she knew it. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to calculate her next move.

"Please," she hissed, surrendering her pride in a single breath.

Without another word, he surged forward, his strong hands gripping her waist and yanking her into the water with a splash. She gasped, but he didn’t give her a second to protest.

"What the h*ll are you doing?" she whispered harshly, her body tense against him.

"Trust me, princess," he murmured, pulling her closer. The light from the pool caught her short denim shorts and black tank top, the fabric clinging to her as if it were meant for this.

"Wrap your arms around me."

"Why the h*ll would I—"

"You want to stay hidden, or you want to explain yourself to them?" His voice was low, steady, with just the right amount of arrogance to make her see reason.

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t have much of a choice. After a long pause, she exhaled in frustration and slid her arms around his neck, reluctantly sinking deeper into the water with him.

"Cali?"

The voices crept closer, the sound turning her pulse into a wild, relentless beat. Or maybe it was the proximity of their bodies—the heat of his skin against hers—that had her heart hammering so violently.

She gasped when she saw Chad and Brittany approaching the pool, their eyes barely grazing over the scene. From their angle, and in the dim light, all they could see was Chase's broad back, the water rippling lazily around him. Unless they decided to walk around the other side, they'd never know it was her in his arms.

The distance, the dark—it gave them the perfect cover.

"Don’t scream, princess," Chase whispered, voice laced with warning and something much darker.

“Wha—” She never finished the thought.

His lips crashed down on hers, wiping every word, every protest from her mind. Her eyes flew wide open, shock coursing through her, but as the kiss deepened, her eyelids fluttered shut, her body betraying her.

"Oops, my bad! Come on, Chad. She's not here."

"Wait, we haven't even checked the pool yet—"

“Seriously? Can’t you see it’s just a couple making out?”

The world around them blurred, spinning in some chaotic swirl of heat and confusion. Chase could’ve stopped—her friends had already turned to leave—but he didn’t. He kept going, his grip tightening on her, pulling her closer, the kiss becoming something darker, hungrier.

Cali's fingers curled into his skin as his tongue swept into her mouth, teasing and tasting. She could still taste the champagne from earlier—rich and indulgent, a lingering sweetness that only made the kiss more intoxicating.

Her body moved without thought, pressing closer, her chest rising against his, every nerve in her body sparking under his touch. His hands slid down her back, bold and unrelenting, until they cupped her a**, claiming her in a way that sent an electric pulse through her core.

It jolted her back to reality, like a slap of ice-cold water on a scorching day. Her eyes snapped open, and with a surge of clarity, she shoved him back, hard.

Before Chase could react, her hand cracked across his face, the slap echoing through the quiet night.

"Touch me again, and I’ll make sure you regret it," she spat, her voice low and seething, her breathing ragged as she glared at him.

Chase stood still, processing the sting on his cheek. But instead of anger, a slow, amused smile crept onto his face. There was something there, something more than just the burn of her slap.

Admiration.

He watched as she climbed out of the pool, dripping wet and utterly furious, vanishing into the shadows without another word.

The sting on his cheek lingered, her touch still warm, and all he could do was chuckle to himself.

He leaned back in the water, the grin never leaving his face. Unruffled. Intrigued. And entirely too satisfied by her defiance.