Page 22 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

It was still early—the sun just beginning to stretch its golden limbs over the edge of the ocean—when I crept out of the house, tiptoeing past Mrs. Mulroney like she was an ancient beast guarding a treasure.

I needed air.

And the chance to think.

I hadn’t slept much. My mind kept chasing itself in circles, pinging between royal bloodlines and the image of Cal walking into some luxury hotel suite with Hal and his smug, alpha energy.

I kept replaying every look Cal gave me at the luau, trying to decode them for reassurance I should’ve already felt. My heart wanted to rest, but my brain had questions—and it wouldn’t stop whispering them in the dark.

I didn’t want to be jealous. But jealousy doesn’t ask permission—it just packs a bag, moves in, and starts planting seeds of doubt in your normally happy life.

I reached the beach before I even knew where I was going. The sand was cool beneath my feet, and the sun had already risen in soft gold layers, the sky streaked with delicate, slow-moving clouds.

The calmness of the morning made me wonder if it was too early to contact Leilani yet, but before I knew it, I was typing a message on my phone.

Typing…

Deleting…

Retyping…

Then finally hitting send.

Hey, sorry if this is too early. Could really use a little quiet company. Totally understand if you’re not up yet.

Her reply came less than a minute later—

Hey, you! I’m always up for a little quiet company. Doug doesn’t let anyone sleep in around here anyway. I’ll meet you at the beach near your place. You want coffee?

I smiled.

Sounds great, thanks! See you soon.

I tucked my phone back in my pocket and wandered down the beach, the early tide curling in around my ankles. Farther up the sand, a low rock wall jutted out along the edge of the dunes—a perfect lookout point. I climbed up and perched on it, hugging my knees to my chest.

The ocean shimmered, smooth and endless, and I let myself breathe. Really breathe.

No chaotic conversations.

No noise apart from the sweep of the waves upon the sand.

Just air. And sky. And ocean.

I spotted her a short time later, walking toward me in flip-flops and a breezy tank top, her hair swept up into a messy bun. She carried two to-go cups and a small brown paper bag tucked under her arm.

“Morning,” she called with a happy grin, lifting one of the cups in salute. “I brought backup banana bread just in case we need emotional support carbs. ”

“My favorite kind of carbs.”

She climbed up beside me on the wall, handed over my cup, and plonked herself down like we’d been doing this every morning of our lives.

“I got you coffee,” she said. “And I got myself a ginger-cinnamon-turmeric-chai situation. No caffeine. I don’t do caffeine.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “My energy is one hundred percent hereditary.”

We sat quietly for a moment, sipping and watching the waves roll in—slow, steady, endless. The silence between us wasn’t awkward at all. It was peaceful. Unhurried. I suddenly felt a million miles from Manhattan.

Leilani tore off a corner of the banana bread and handed it to me. “So… what’s going on in that head of yours?”

I took the sweet piece of bread, chewed it and swallowed. “How much time do you have?”

She shrugged, easy and unbothered. “As much as you need. Mornings are kind of my time—I usually sneak out early. It’s the only part of the day that’s quiet enough to hear myself think.”

I smiled. “Am I crashing your solitude?”

She grinned. “Nah. You’re good company. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

I took another sip of coffee. “So… last night. I’m not really sure where to start apologizing.”

“Apologizing? For what?”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Mulroney’s inappropriate speeches? Mr. Banks almost sparking a family war? Do I need to go on?”

She laughed. “That’s nothing. That’s just family. Being loud and unpredictable and a little crazy is what families do.”

I laughed softly. “I guess so. You’re very forgiving.”

She shrugged. “I’m realistic. I know my family. I know what matters. And last night? It was a little hectic, sure, but it was real. ”

I looked down at the sand. “I guess I just wanted things to be… perfect. Or at least, less like a blooper reel.”

“Too late,” she said. “You’re already part of the blooper reel. And honestly? That’s usually the best part of any movie. Right?”

“I suppose it is.” I took another sip, then, trying to sound casual—“So… not wanting to pry or anything… but… is it true? About Tutu Makani?”

Leilani didn’t flinch, like she’d been expecting the question. “You mean the whole princess thing? Yeah, it’s true.”

My eyebrows jumped. “Wait—seriously?”

“Seriously,” she confirmed, sipping her ginger-turmeric mystery drink. “Tutu Makani is part of the ali?i —the traditional royal class in Hawaiian culture. The bloodline is real. We don’t have palaces or thrones or tiaras, but the heritage is there.”

“And she’s… like, officially a princess?”

“She is,” Leilani said, then smiled. “Although she’d probably roll her eyes if she heard us talking about it like that. She never makes a big deal out of it. Says titles don’t mean much unless you’re doing something good with them.”

I blinked. “So you’re all—”

“We’re part of the extended family,” she explained. “It’s not about succession or anything like that. There’s no royal court. But we carry the name, and the history that comes with it.”

“That’s… kind of amazing.”

“It is,” she said, but not like she was bragging. “I guess it’s just who we are. It’s not about status. It’s about kuleana . Responsibility.”

“To do what?”

“To support what matters,” she said. “Protecting the land. Preserving the culture. Living in a way that honors the people who came before. That’s what Tutu cares about. That’s what we all try to show up for.”

I nodded slowly. It made sense. In a quiet, ancient kind of way .

“So,” I said. “If you’re technically of royal blood, and you’re carrying our baby…”

She laughed. “Don’t even start.”

“I’m just saying,” I said, holding up my hands. “Do I need to order a crest for the baby’s room? Or maybe a pearl tiara?”

Leilani laughed. “I think the only one around here who needs a tiara is you.”

I feigned offence. “Rude!”

She bumped her shoulder against mine. “I’m just kidding,” she said, before adding—“The tiara would look much better on Cal.”

With that we both laughed.

The house was dark when I heard the door open.

It was well past dinner, maybe even close to midnight. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago—even Mrs. Mulroney made it up to her own room this time.

I’d been sitting outside on the back porch with the light off, listening to the wind rustle through the banana leaves and trying not to glance at my phone every ninety seconds.

Cal stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. His shoulders were slumped, his tie half -off, and there was a drained look behind his eyes.

“Hey,” I said, my voice carrying across the room.

He flinched, startled, then saw me. “Hey. Sorry—I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know.” He held it up sheepishly. “It died. I kept asking Hal if I could borrow one of his chargers, but he had a dozen devices already hooked up. I’m sorry.”

I nodded once. “I figured.”

Cal stepped out onto the porch and collapsed onto the outdoor sofa beside me with a long exhale. He kissed me and I could taste miso and sake.

“You’ve had dinner?”

“Yeah. We were starving. I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to vanish on you.”

“You didn’t vanish.” I kept my tone light. “You just disappeared into a finance wormhole and forgot you have a very emotionally available husband.”

He looked over at me. “Are we okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. The breeze was warm on my face, and I was determined to stay calm in the moment.

“I tried not to let it get to me,” I admitted. “I really did. But you were gone a long time, and I didn’t know where you were, and… Hal has that whole ‘I summer in Monaco’ energy. It messes with my sense of perspective.”

Cal reached over and took my hand. “I get it. I do. He’s… draining.”

“You’re allowed to have meetings,” I said. “I just need to know I haven’t fallen off the radar. That I still matter in the middle of the numbers.”

He squeezed my hand. “You matter more than anything in the world. And soon, there’ll be a tiny little person in our lives who matters to me just as much as you do. So tell me, how did your talk with Leilani go?” He kissed me again. “Tell me everything, my sweet sensitive husband.”

I smiled, and over the next twenty minutes I filled him in on the beach, the banana bread, the ginger-cinnamon-turmeric chai, and how Leilani somehow made everything feel calm and present, like time moved slower around her in the best possible way.

I told him about the royal bloodline, Makani’s title and the kuleana they carry.

Cal listened and smiled as I talked, and I could feel the night reshaping itself around us. A better shape. A hopeful one.

“So?” I asked, when I’d finished. “What do you think? ”

“I think we’ve found her,” he said softly. “She’s everything we hoped for. And more.”

I nodded. “I was scared I’d feel unsure. But I don’t. Leilani’s the one.”

Cal leaned over and kissed the back of my hand. “Then let’s move forward. Together.”

“We’ll talk to Tessa?”

“First thing tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll tell her we’re ready for the next stage. So long as Leilani agrees to it as well.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, the tension melting away. “I think she will. I know she will.”