Billionaire Wanted to Be Left Alone in the Mountains, Love Found Him Anyway
Walls and Words
She didn’t recognize him. The realization was both surprising and oddly refreshing.
“Kitchen’s this way,” he said, leading her through the house.
While Gabriella warmed her hands around a mug of steaming tea, Xavier checked the weather reports on his phone. The storm was intensifying, expected to dump three feet of snow overnight with winds reaching 60 mph.
No one would be traveling these roads until tomorrow at the earliest.
“Bad news,” he said, setting his phone down. “You’re stuck here tonight. The roads won’t be cleared until tomorrow afternoon at best.”
Gabriella’s face fell. “Oh no, I’m so sorry to impose. I can sleep anywhere—a couch, a floor, whatever’s convenient.”
“There are six bedrooms in this house,” Xavier said dryly. “I think we can find you one that’s suitable.”
Her eyes widened as she properly took in her surroundings for the first time: the soaring ceilings, the custom furniture, and the massive stone fireplace.
“This place is incredible. Are you some kind of wealthy hermit?”
Despite himself, Xavier felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “Something like that.”
After showing Gabriella to a guest suite and providing her with some dry clothes that were comically oversized on her petite frame, Xavier retreated to his study.
Having another person in his sanctuary was unnerving. He’d specifically chosen this remote location to avoid human interaction, and now he was hosting an impromptu sleepover for a complete stranger—a journalist, no less.
Still, he couldn’t deny the woman seemed genuine in her gratitude and had yet to display any recognition of who he was. Perhaps she truly was just an unfortunate traveler caught in the storm.
Either way, she’d be gone tomorrow, and he could return to his solitude.
The storm raged through the night, howling around the house like a living thing. By morning, the world outside was transformed into a pristine white landscape.
Xavier rose early, as was his habit, and was surprised to find Gabriella already awake in the kitchen, attempting to operate his complicated coffee machine.
“Sorry,” she said, when she noticed him watching her from the doorway. “I’m a caffeine addict, and this machine looks like it could launch a rocket.”
Xavier stepped forward, pressing a few buttons on the touchscreen. “It’s European. Unnecessarily complicated, but makes excellent coffee.”
“Like most European things,” she agreed with a small smile. “The snow’s still coming down.”
Xavier glanced out the window. Indeed, the storm showed no signs of abating. The forecast must have changed.
A quick check of the weather app confirmed his suspicion: the storm had stalled over the mountains and was now expected to continue for another 24 hours. Plows wouldn’t reach his remote access road until the following day at the earliest.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck here another night,” he said, not bothering to hide his displeasure.
Gabriella winced. “I really am sorry. I promise I’ll stay out of your way. Maybe you could point me towards some books? I noticed you have quite a library.”
Something about her earnest expression softened Xavier’s irritation slightly.
“Help yourself to anything in the library. The western wing is off-limits; that’s my private space.”
She nodded seriously. “Of course. Thank you for your hospitality, especially since I’ve forced it upon you.”
After breakfast, Xavier retreated to his office to work, expecting Gabriella to curl up with a book somewhere. He was surprised when, hours later, he ventured out to find the kitchen spotless and a note on the counter.
“Borrowed snowshoes from your mudroom. Don’t worry, I’m not running away, just taking photos near the house. Back soon.”
Through his office window, Xavier spotted her in the distance, a bright figure against the white landscape, camera raised to her face. Despite the brutal cold, she seemed completely absorbed in her work, kneeling in deep snow to capture whatever had caught her eye.
Unbidden curiosity stirred within him. What was she photographing? What did she see in this landscape that compelled her to brave the elements? It had been a long time since Xavier had felt genuine curiosity about another person.
When Gabriella returned, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement, Xavier found himself asking, “Find anything worth photographing?”
She lit up, pulling out her camera and showing him the display. “Look at this pine with the snow formation.” “The wind created this perfect spiral of snow along the branches.” “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Xavier leaned closer, genuinely impressed by the image. The way she’d captured the light filtering through the snow-laden branches created an almost ethereal quality.
“You’re actually quite good,” he said, surprised.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” she laughed, a warm, unguarded sound that seemed to fill the empty spaces of his cavernous home. “National Geographic doesn’t hire amateurs, even for their online content.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m teasing you,” she said, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “You strike me as someone who doesn’t get teased very often.”
Xavier found himself at a loss for words. She was right. People didn’t tease billionaires; they agreed with them, flattered them, and tried to use them. But teasing required a certain equality—a comfort level that most people never achieved with him.
“No,” he finally said. “I suppose I don’t.”
That evening, after Xavier prepared a simple dinner, refusing Gabriella’s offers to help, they found themselves seated before the fire with glasses of red wine. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the house, a strange comfort had settled between them.
“So,” Gabriella said, tucking her legs beneath her on the sofa. “What brings a man like you to a remote mountain mansion all alone? Are you hiding from the law, a broken heart, or just humanity in general?”
Xavier snorted softly. “The latter, I suppose.”
“Misanthrope by nature or by experience?”
He considered the question, surprised to find himself wanting to answer honestly. “Both, perhaps.”
“I’ve always valued solitude, but years in the corporate world convinced me that most human interaction is transactional at best, manipulative at worst.”
“That’s a rather bleak worldview,” Gabriella observed, sipping her wine. “Though I can’t say the corporate world brings out the best in people. What field were you in?”
Xavier hesitated. If he told her, she’d almost certainly make the connection. Yet something about her direct gaze made him reluctant to lie.
“Technology. I founded and ran a tech company until recently.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Successful, I take it?” She gestured to the expansive house around them.
“Yes.”
“And now you’re hiding in the mountains?”
“I’m not hiding,” he said, more sharply than intended. “I’m living on my own terms for the first time in 15 years. No expectations, no demands, no pretending to care about things I don’t.”
“Sounds lonely,” Gabriella said simply.
“Solitude and loneliness aren’t the same thing.”
“True. But from what I’ve seen, people who insist they prefer solitude often do so because relationships have proven disappointing or painful.” She set down her wine glass. “It’s safer to embrace isolation than risk the messy complications of human connection.”
Xavier felt a flicker of irritation at her presumption. “You’ve known me less than 24 hours. I don’t think that qualifies you to psychoanalyze me.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded easily. “Though in my defense, I’m a photographer. Observation is literally my job.”
Despite his annoyance, Xavier found himself curious. “And what do you observe?”
Gabriella studied him for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. “I observe a man who’s built walls so high that he’s forgotten there might be something worth experiencing on the other side.”
“Someone who’s achieved extraordinary success but seems to have traded happiness for accomplishment.” Her voice softened. “And I see someone who, despite his desire for isolation, still opened his door to a stranger in a snowstorm. That suggests there’s more compassion there than you let on.”
The room fell silent except for the crackling of the fire. Xavier stared into the flames, unsettled by how accurately she’d read him.
“You’re very direct,” he finally said.
“Life’s too short not to be,” she replied with a small shrug. “My mother died when I was young—cancer. She spent years planning for a retirement that never came. It taught me to speak my mind and live purposefully.”
Xavier nodded slowly, finding unexpected respect for her perspective, even if he didn’t entirely agree with it. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
“Thank you.” She smiled softly. “So, since I’m stranded in your magnificent mountain fortress for another night, would it be terribly forward to ask if you have any board games? I’m a formidable Scrabble opponent.”
The request was so unexpected and ordinary that Xavier actually laughed—a rusty sound even to his own ears. “I have no idea. I haven’t played a board game since college.”
“Then we should check. Everyone needs a good Scrabble thrashing occasionally. Keeps the ego in check.”
To his own surprise, Xavier found himself leading Gabriella to a storage closet where the previous owners had left various games and puzzles. They discovered a Scrabble set with all pieces intact, and soon they were seated at the kitchen table, the board between them.
Gabriella hadn’t been exaggerating her skills. She played words like “quixotic” and “zephyr,” maximizing the board’s bonus squares. Xavier, competitive by nature, found himself fully engaged in the game, the outside world temporarily forgotten.
“That’s not a word,” he protested when she placed “qiviut” across a triple word score.
“It absolutely is,” she insisted. “It’s the inner wool of an arctic muskox. I did a photo essay on indigenous Alaskan textile artists who work with it. Incredibly warm and soft.”
Xavier shook his head, reluctantly impressed. “I’ll take your word for it, but only because we’re snowed in and I can’t check the dictionary.”
Gabriella laughed, the sound warming the kitchen more effectively than the expensive heating system. “I would never cheat at Scrabble. It’s sacred.”
By the time they’d finished the game, Gabriella winning by 37 points, Xavier realized it was past midnight. He hadn’t checked his phone or email in hours—something that hadn’t happened since he’d first founded his company as a college sophomore.
“Thank you for the game,” he said as they cleared the board. “It was enjoyable.”
“High praise indeed,” she teased. “Next time, I’ll really try to impress you.”
“Next time.”
The words hung in the air between them, a reminder that there wouldn’t be a next time. Tomorrow, the roads would clear, someone would retrieve her car, and Gabriella Warren would return to her life, leaving Xavier to his carefully constructed solitude.
The thought brought an unexpected hollowness to his chest.
