Page 90 of Filthy Rich Daddies

Not hard. But real.

We sit in companionable silence after the paperwork is signed. Tic scrolls through something on his phone. I sip my coffee, cold now but still effective. Colin looks entirely too pleased with himself, which is always dangerous.

“Out with it,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You’re holding something in.”

Colin leans back, grinning. “Okay, yes. I have one more thing.”

Tic doesn’t look up. “Is it expensive?”

Colin shrugs. “Not as expensive as a yacht. But maybe as satisfying.” He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and flips it around to show us a photo.

At first, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. But then I realize it. It’s…breathtaking.

“Colin,” I say slowly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing too crazy.”

I keep staring at the photo. “You said you wanted to avoid being heavy-handed.”

“Itried,” he says. “But then I saw a Pinterest board she didn’t know was public, and?—”

“Oh my god,” I interrupt. “You’re the worst.”

He shrugs. “She’s going to love it.”

He’s right. I can already picture her reaction.

For a moment, I let it wash over me—the comfort of this room, the men beside me, the future we’re building with too many hands and not enough caution.

And for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m on the edge of breaking. I’m on the edge of building something new.

32

COLIN

“Okay, I’ll play along,”Thalassa says, sounding skeptical. “But you’re really pushing your luck.”

“I like pushing things,” I murmur, slipping the blindfold over her eyes.

She laughs. “If this ends in rope and a new toy, I’m all in. But I don’t know why we couldn’t just stay in my room.”

“We could have,” I say. “But I’ve got something better.”

“I doubt that,” she mutters. “That headboard is basically a jungle gym. Plus, I finally got the pillow arrangement perfect for the belly. This better be good.”

“It’s not a competition,” I say, nudging her gently down the hall, “but I do think you’re going to be impressed.”

“Oh god,” she says, laughing. “That means I won’t be.”

I pause outside the door and take a breath.

This felt like such a good idea. Hell, I still think it is. But now that we’re here, now that I’m about to show her what I did—I’m nervous in a way I haven’t been in a long time.

I want her to love it. I want her to feel seen.

Not just the part of her that’s carrying our babies, but the part that came from a little island, whose parents speak about sea life like it’s sacred, whose face lights up when she sees starfish sculptures in hotel lobbies, then looks away from them like she has to hide that part of herself.

This nursery is for her.