Page 19 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

Leilani had texted us the location of the beach where the luau was being held.

As we followed the noise of laughter and loud, happy chatter, the sun dipped low, golden light flickering through palm fronds and the scent of roasted pork already curling into the sky.

We followed a winding path strung with hanging lights and woven torches, each flickering flame daring me to turn around and run.

“Do you think we overdressed?” I whispered to Cal, pulling at the hem of my shirt for the twentieth time.

“We look fine. We’re fine.” He glanced back to see Mr. Banks in a tuxedo and a top hat. “Well, maybe.”

We stepped onto the sand just as a chorus of ukuleles struck up a lilting tune.

A large open space had been set with long tables, banana-leaf platters, and flickering lanterns.

Dozens of people—Leilani’s people—were already gathered.

Children darted between tables. Aunties stirred things in large wooden bowls.

Uncles stood around the fire pit, arguing lovingly over pork.

“Remind me again why we thought this was a good idea?” I muttered .

“Because we said yes,” Cal replied. “And because you typed the words ‘our family too’ and hit send.”

Right on cue, Doug the rooster strutted across the path in front of us, feathers glossy in the torchlight. He paused, tilted his head, and gave a single low bok .

Cal blinked. “It’s only bad luck if a black cat crosses your path, right?”

Doug gave us a look that suggested otherwise, then walked on.

We hurried past the unnerving rooster.

From across the firepit at the center of the gathering, Leilani spotted us and waved, her whole face lighting up. She wore a flowing green dress and a plumeria tucked behind one ear. Standing beside her were at least five family members, all varying shades of beautiful and intimidating.

“This is it,” I whispered. “We’re crossing the threshold.”

“And into what?”

“Judgment. Or paradise.”

The gang filed in behind us. Mr. Banks straightened his bow tie.

Angus was already fanning himself dramatically with the palm-thatched fan from the market.

Rashida looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion shoot.

While Mrs. Mulroney was already wavering on her feet, wearing a recently purchased hat covered in fake hibiscus flowers and thinking nobody had noticed the hipflask she kept sneaking out of her bra.

“Well, this looks like fun,” she slurred. “There’s nothing like a bonfire and extended family to stir up a few secrets. I can’t wait to find out whose uncle is really their cousin’s wife.”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of family,” I said, before worriedly murmuring, “At least, I hope not.”

Leilani hurried over with a radiant smile and pulled me and Cal into a hug before we could even say hello.

“Matt, Cal,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” She quickly glanced past us to the group trailing behind like a parade of oddities. “Are these…? ”

“Our family,” I said. “Good luck.”

We stepped aside so they could meet her one by one.

“This is Rashida,” I said.

Rashida extended her hand with the elegance of someone who could depose a government during lunch. “I’m here for the food and the background checks. You’re holding steady so far.”

Leilani sighed with relief. “Whew! Let’s hope it stays that way. Tutu said if things go south tonight, I’ll be sleeping outside with the chickens.”

Next came Angus, who stepped forward like he was about to accept a lifetime achievement award.

“Angus Croft,” he introduced himself proudly. “Cal’s brother, Matt’s emotional support snack buddy, and soon to become the best uncle in the whole wide world. I’ve practiced holding a watermelon like a baby.”

Leilani grinned. “You’re gonna do great.”

“This is Mr. Banks,” I said, easing him forward.

He took her hand with grace and flair. “You must be the girl carrying the future. That’s no small task. My joints felt it coming.”

Leilani smiled gently. “I like him already. He’s got prophecy energy.”

And finally, I turned toward the hibiscus-crowned figure to our left. “And this is Mrs. Mulroney.”

Leilani opened her arms. “I’ve heard stories.”

“There’s lots more where they came from,” Mrs. Mulroney said, swaying slightly as she pulled her in—more for balance than affection. “But if anyone asks if they’re true, I’ll deny everything.”

“Noted.”

By the time Leilani stepped back, she looked thrilled.

“I love them,” she said to me and Cal. “This is going to be so fun.”

“I give us thirty minutes before someone challenges one of your uncles to a dance-off,” I warned .

“That’s optimistic,” she replied. “They’ve already started stretching. Come on over. It’s my turn. I want you to meet everyone.”

She turned toward the firelight, and we followed—me gripping Cal’s hand like we were about to be shoved onto the stage of a talent show we hadn’t rehearsed for.

One by one Leilani led us around to meet her family.

A woman with silver hair sat on a bench weaving small tropical flowers into a crown for a toddler and looked up with a warm smile. “Aloha. It’s so lovely to meet you.”

A tall man draped flower leis over our necks and whispered, “Careful with the punch. It’s been banned from three weddings.”

Another waved toward the roasting pig and declared proudly, “It’s been slow-roasting since four a.m. I hope you’re hungry.”

A teenage girl with braces and a flower behind her ear offered us a tray of Spam musubi with such intense eye contact I took two out of fear and gratitude.

Behind her, an older man with thick eyebrows gave Cal a long handshake and said, “If you hurt her, we bury you inside the volcano.” He held the smile for just a second too long. “Deep, deep inside.”

Leilani laughed, her hand lightly resting on the man’s shoulder. “That’s Uncle Manu. He’s kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” Uncle Manu didn’t blink.

We quickly moved on.

A boy in board shorts zoomed past, shrieking, followed by a girl in a princess dress holding a garden hose and screaming, “ I am the sea! Feel my power! ”

I was still gripping Cal’s hand like a lifeline. He gave it a small squeeze, his thumb brushing mine. “You okay?”

“No,” I whispered. “But also yes. But also maybe.”

“I’ll translate that as—you’re thriving.”

“Exactly.”

A little ahead, a woman in a vibrant green muumuu turned from the firepit with arms outstretched. “Aloha, my sweets! You made it!”

Leilani beamed. “This is my Tutu.”

Tutu enfolded both of us into a warm, fragrant hug that smelled of ginger and sea air and comfort. She held us tight, then stepped back and looked into our eyes with a steadiness that made the world quiet.

“Welcome to our family,” she said simply.

The words landed with ease… and gravity… and so much sincerity that I had to blink the smoke out of my eyes.

Cal cleared his throat.

And then, behind us, a soft gasp.

“Princess Makani?” came Mr. Banks’s voice, breathless, trembling. “Is it really you?”

We all turned. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket at some point and was holding his top hat in both hands like a man at a funeral—or “dancer number five” in the chorus line of a Fred Astaire musical.

Makani blinked. For a moment she looked startled. Then her eyes widened, her hand moving slowly to her mouth like she was witnessing a miracle. “Bratwurst? Baron Bratwurst Schnitzelstein? Could it be?”

Mr. Banks nodded. “I—I go by Mr. Banks now. Basil Banks. But yes. It’s me.”

She stepped closer. “You’re older.”

“You’re… still perfect.”

And just like that, they were embracing. Gently, reverently. Her hands pressed flat against his back as if to confirm he was real. His head bowed to her shoulder like it had always belonged there.

Nobody spoke.

Even the crackling fire seemed to hush. A nearby toddler dropped a musubi. Somewhere behind us, a ukulele gave a single startled twang .

Mrs. Mulroney blinked like she’d just seen an angel—or a tax inspector. “Did he just call her Princess ?”

Cal leaned forward, squinting. “Did she just call him Baron ?”

“I’m sorry,” I uttered to Cal. “Have we been living with German royalty and didn’t even know it?”

Cal shook his head. “Surely not. Mr. Banks makes up stories all the time.”

We all stared at the intimate embrace between Mr. Banks and Leilani’s grandmother. “That doesn’t look made up to me,” I said.

Angus’s mouth was open so wide you could’ve parked a canoe in it. “Hold on. Back up. Mr. Banks’s first name is Basil ? Since when?!”

Mr. Banks didn’t look at us. His eyes were only for her.

After a long moment, Makani pulled back, her smile soft and radiant. “You disappeared so quickly, I thought the ocean took you.”

Mr. Banks gave a little shake of his head. “You know I couldn’t stay. Your father was never going to accept me.”

I turned to Cal, stunned. “What is happening?”

“I have no idea,” he whispered. “But I think we just got bumped to second place in the romance department.”

A low murmur rippled through the family, but it was cut off by a firm voice from the far end of the firepit.

“That’s enough!”

Nakoa, Leilani’s father, stepped forward, posture rigid, arms crossed. His eyes were set on Mr. Banks—not with curiosity, but suspicion.

“You can’t just show up after decades and expect everything to fall into place,” he said, his tone sharp. “We don’t know you. We don’t owe you anything.”

The crowd hushed again. Several aunties exchanged glances. Children huddled around the legs of their mothers.

Makani didn’t flinch.

She turned to face Nakoa with a regal steadiness, as though she’d been expecting this moment for years. “You sound just like my father.”

That landed hard.

Nakoa’s jaw clenched. “I’m trying to protect this family.”

“No,” she said softly. “You’re trying to control it.”

Her voice was calm, but her words carried weight. “When I was young, I let someone else decide who I was allowed to love. And it cost me dearly. I won’t let you do the same—not to me, and not to anyone else here.”

Nakoa looked away, anger flickering across his face, but he didn’t argue.