THE ISLAND GIRL AND THE ARROGANT CEO

Chapter 1 The sky over San Estrella Island was a lazy shade of blue, the kind that made people forget the rest of the world existed. Fishermen hummed along the docks, kids chased hermit crabs, and somewhere along the coast, Isla Marquez was wrestling a coconut like it had insulted her mother. “Come on, you stubborn thing,” she muttered, whacking it with a machete. The shell split open triumphantly, splashing coconut water on her bare feet. “Ha! Never doubt a Marquez.” She lifted the coconut to her lips for a sip when she heard it a deep, distant rumble, like thunder but angrier. She frowned. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Then the horizon darkened. Within minutes, the peaceful sea turned restless. Winds whipped her hair, and the first raindrops splattered her cheeks. Storms weren’t uncommon here, but this one rolled in too fast like it had somewhere to be. “Luna!” Shaira shouted toward the wooden house by the palm grove. “Get the chickens inside! Now!” Her teenage sister appeared in the doorway holding her phone, completely unbothered. “Can I finish my t****k first?” “Now!” Luna groaned dramatically but obeyed. shaira glanced back at the water. Something glittered between the waves silver, sleek, and very out of place. A yacht. A massive, gleaming white yacht, rocking violently as the wind screamed around it. “Who on earth sails here during storm season?” shaira muttered. Then, louder “i***t city people!” The yacht swayed again then tilted sharply to one side. “Oh, no,” she whispered, dropping the coconut. Within seconds, shaira was sprinting down the beach, rain blurring her vision. The yacht collided with a jagged reef. Wood splintered. Metal shrieked. And then she saw him. A man tall, broad shouldered, clinging to a railing as waves crashed over him. He shouted something she couldn’t hear. “Hang on!” shaira yelled back, though she doubted he could understand her through the roar. She grabbed her small outrigger canoe and pushed it into the angry surf. The ocean fought her every inch, but shaira was stronger. Born on this island, she knew how to dance with the sea. She paddled hard, muscles burning, until she reached the wreckage. The man was slipping, eyes wide with panic. “Jump!” she ordered. He hesitated, clearly unused to being told what to do. Then a wave slammed into him, and he had no choice but to obey. The impact nearly flipped the canoe, but shaira grabbed him by the shirt collar and hauled him in with a grunt. He sputtered, coughing, saltwater dripping from his dark hair. “Are you crazy?” she snapped. “You could’ve drowned!” “Excuse me?” His voice was deep, clipped and unmistakably annoyed. “I had that situation under control.” She blinked at him, rain dripping off her nose. “Under control? You were sinking!” He scowled. “My crew will come for me.” “You mean the crew you didn’t have?” she shot back, nodding at the empty sea. He opened his mouth, then closed it. shaira paddled furiously toward shore, muttering something in Tagalog that sounded suspiciously insulting. When they reached the beach, she dragged the canoe up and stood over him. Up close, he looked like he’d fallen out of a luxury magazine expensive watch broken, shirt ripped open, but still somehow managing to look annoyingly handsome. His jawline could cut driftwood. And his expression said I’m too important for this. “Where am I?” he demanded. “My island,” she said. “And you’re welcome.” He gave her a look. “Your… island?” “Well, technically the people’s island,” she corrected, hands on hips. “But right now, I’m the one who just saved your life. So, yes, mine.” He stared at her like she’d just spoken another language. “Do you know who I am?” “No,” she said flatly, “and I don’t care.” His mouth twitched, like no one had ever dared say that before. “I’m Adrian Steele.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to mean something?” “I’m the CEO of—” “CEO of what? Bad decisions? Because you picked the wrong week to play pirate, Mr. Steele.” For a long second, rain poured between them. He looked outraged. She looked unimpressed. Finally, shaira sighed. “Fine. Follow me. Before the storm eats you alive.” He followed her reluctantly, slipping on the wet sand. She didn’t offer to help. Inside her bamboo hut, she tossed him a towel and a dry shirt from her brother’s things. He looked at it like it was made of thorns. “You expect me to wear this?” “You want to stay wet? Up to you.” She shrugged. He sighed and changed behind a curtain. When he stepped out, wearing faded shorts and a shirt two sizes too small, Isla couldn’t help a laugh. “What?” he asked sharply. “Nothing,” she said, smirking. “You just look… human.” He glared. “Where’s your phone? I need to call my office.” “Phone tower’s on the next island,” she said. “Boat’s grounded till the weather clears. You’re stuck here.” “Stuck?” He froze. “How long?” “Two days, maybe three,” she said casually. “Depends if you help or just complain.” “Help? With what?” “Cooking. Cleaning. Fixing roofs. Basic human survival.” She tossed him a broom. “You’ll figure it out.” “I don’t do chores.” “Well, you do now.” She grinned. “Welcome to the island, Mr. CEO.” He stared at her, speechless clearly for the first time in his life. Outside, thunder rumbled, but inside the small hut, it was quiet except for the sound of rain and one very irritated man trying to brush sand off his expensive shoes. “This place is… primitive,” he muttered. shaira crossed her arms. “This place is paradise. You’re just spoiled.” He looked up, meeting her gaze. For a split second, the air changed electric, sharp, curious. Then she smirked and turned away. “Dinner’s at seven,” she said. “If you’re still alive by then.” She left him standing there, confused and dripping, while she hummed cheerfully and stirred a pot over the fire. For the first time in years, Adrian Steele had no control, no Wi-Fi, no board meetings and no idea that this tiny, infuriating island girl was about to turn his entire world upside down.