Billionaire. Botanist. Bulldog.

JARDIN: I live five seconds in the future, where the world is a canvas of live variables and binary code. I don't do distractions, and I certainly don't allow outsiders past the walls of my ancestral estate-a sterile, white-wall sanctuary that feels more like a museum than a home. For years, I've used my empire as a shield to nurse a deeply guarded grief, surrounding myself with cold concrete to block out the memory of what I've lost.
The only creature permitted in my vault is Adèle-my soulful, grieving French bulldog. Stacy Keen was supposed to be a governess for Adèle, a trial period to see if her kooky plant-magic could heal a broken beast. She was never supposed to make my clinical world feel safe, or remind me that I am completely empty without the wild, beautiful life she occupies. STACY: I was content with being invisible, preferring the inside-out jungle of my studio apartment to the aggressive synergy of corporate sharks.
My life was built on the logic of soil chemistry until I found a poisoned secret pulsing beneath Amsterdam's historic canals. I've discovered a heavy metal spike in the groundwater, and my bosses are willing to delete more than just data to keep me silent. Then there's Jardin Sleet. He is a rugged, sharp-edged contradiction who views the forest as business but treats my intellect like a rare specimen.
Falling for a guarded billionaire was never part of the plan, but as the trap closes in, I'm realizing that the most potent thing in my world isn't the toxic chemistry in the ground-it's the man who finally knows how to hold me. ADÈLE: The Great Kennel used to smell like old secrets, thin air, and the sharp lightning-juice of the Tall One's gadgets. My nose doesn't lie, and the bad dirt in the courtyard told me the earth was weeping and our pack was broken.
But the New Giant smells of wet loam, crushed nettles, and ancient rain. She knows the soil is sick, and for the first time in three moons, the air feels sweet enough to breathe again.