Page 73 of The Billionaire's Baby

"Et tu, Brutus?" Edward drawls across the phone line.

Yep. After I’d agreed to marry her… Fucking hell, I’d agreed to marry her… Yeah, take a breath, ol’ chap. Get it together. So, after I’d agreed to marry her for real, I’d pulled out of her, then dressed, and made a quick exit. Not caring that it was raining outside, I’d pulled on my jacket and beat a hasty retreat to the shed.

Me… The man known for his cut-throat maneuvers when it comes to snapping up the best bets in Silicon Valley, I had raced out of that chalet like my tail was on fire… Not literally, but metaphorically. Jesus, I am in so much trouble. I need to talk to someone… Yep, like a fucking pussy, I call Edward tell him what happened. Not all of the details, of course. Just that I had agreed to her proposal.

"Now, that’s not very charitable of you, Father," I grumble. "I swear, I didn’t mean for it to end up this way."

"You mean with you ready to take a trip down to the altar?" He snickers.

"Hey, aren’t you supposed to be happy for me, in your professional capacity?" I frown.

"In my professional capacity, I will not dissuade you from what you think is right for you… Just as long as it is right for you."

"You’re speaking in riddles again, Father."

"Come now, that’s my forte." A new voice cuts in.

"Saint?" I grimace. "What the hell are you doing there?"

"Not just him," Damian’s voice sounds across the line.

"You too?" I glower.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you, that I patched in the others while you were sharing your saga with us?" Edward chimes in.

"Saga?" I snap. "What the hell, Father? Sorry, didn’t mean to swear there. No wait…" I shake my head, "actually, I did mean to swear. Considering I trusted you enough to call you for your advice—"

"A bit for that isn't it, considering you decided to get married to her?"

"Hey," I protest, "Saint did the same, didn’t he—?"

"Bloody hell," Saint swears aloud, "will you guys stop holding me up as a shining example of everything done right? Not that things didn’t work out for me, but there’s a crucial difference between my situation and yours."

"What’s that?"

"I fell in love with Victoria as soon as I saw her."

"And as soon as I saw Julia, I knew she was the one," Damian declares.

"You mean I’m not in love with Karina?"

"You’re fixated on her," Weston drawls, "but you sure you’re in love with her?"

"Anyone else want to venture their opinion?" I growl. "Or have you jokers had your say?"

The barking of a dog sounds, then Sinclair comes on the line, "Sorry, chaps, Max insisted he add his thoughts on the matter."

"Brilliant, that’s all I need—Sterling’s mutt’s point of view." I crack my neck. "I suppose you’ll want to give your two bits worth on my love life, or lack thereof?"

"I don’t know man," Sinclair muses, "from where I am, it’s all clear."

"It is?"

I sense him nod at the other end of the line. "Sure," he replies. "You decided to lay this elaborate plan so you could keep her close. Then, you decided to get her onto your boat, which is more home to you than anything on land. Then you pushed it further by shoving your boat into the path of a storm, decided to take shelter, and then the inevitable happens and you realize you are losing control, so when she throws you a lifeline, you take it. You say yes to marrying her, and all because you’ve been a pussy all along. You tie it up all in bloody knots, because underneath it all, you feel something for her. But you don’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to her."

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "That’s some crazy shit theory you’ve come up with," I mutter. " In fact, I am not sure about what you say half the time."

"That’s such a lame excuse, Beauchamp." Saint barks out a laugh.