Page 24 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

It’s a strange thing, waking up in paradise and still managing to feel like things aren’t quite perfect.

I guess it was the emotional equivalent of being hungover from too many feelings.

Or maybe from the psychic whiplash of learning your husband wants to delay your return to New York because his ex-frat bro is building a billionaire volcano bunker with a superyacht marina for his portfolio-bragging buddies.

Beside me, Cal was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed in boxers, scrolling through his phone like a man who was either oblivious to my emotional roller coaster or refused to buy a ticket for the ride.

“You’re doing emails before breakfast?” I asked.

He looked over and smiled. “Nope. Group chat. Rashida just posted a photo of Mr. Banks serenading Makani with her ukelele.”

I sat up and reached for my glasses. “Show me.” It was one of the sweetest things I’d ever seen. “Romance becomes him. Who’d have thought under all those tales of madness and mishaps, a long-lost love story would eventually blossom.”

Cal laughed softly, then stood and stretched. “Come on. Tessa’s sending us the donor shortlist this morning. Let’s try to look like we’re not as nervous as all hell about it.”

We made coffee in the big open kitchen, then perched ourselves at the counter and fired up the laptop.

A few seconds later, Tessa appeared onscreen, impossibly polished as always, her white blazer and quiet Manhattan office a stark contrast to the wild hibiscus and swaying palms just beyond our patio.

“Aloha, gentlemen. Ready for some egg donor options?”

“As ready as two men can be without wine,” I replied.

She tapped her tablet. “I’ve selected five profiles based on your most recent preferences. These are all vetted, healthy, and within the parameters you discussed—non-smoking, emotionally stable, and no recorded history of psychotic outbursts waiting in line at Starbucks.”

“Thank God,” I murmured.

“First up,” she continued. “We have Jenna. She’s twenty-three, studying biomedical engineering, plays the cello, and volunteers at a neonatal ward.”

The profile photo filled our screen. She was pretty, poised, kind eyes.

“She seems…” I said, searching for the word. “Serene. Almost too serene.”

Cal leaned in. “She seems… nice. And she listed ‘empathy’ as a strength. That seems… nice.”

“That sounds like you’re ready to move on,” Tessa remarked.

We clicked through the others—an artist, a nurse, a law student who listed The West Wing as her personality trait, and one woman named Martha who worked as a prison warden but performed stand-up comedy on the side .

“We always throw in a wild card,” Tessa said. “You never know.”

“I think we know,” I said, hitting delete on her profile.

“I’ll upload the four other profiles to your portal,” Tessa said. “You don’t have to decide right away. Take your time.”

Cal nodded. “Thanks, we will.”

“One more thing,” she added. “Leilani’s ready to move forward with screening.

We’re proposing next week at our partner clinic in Honolulu.

She’s flexible on timing, and travel is covered as part of your package.

I’ll coordinate directly with her. She’s excited.

And very committed.” Tessa paused and added, “Have the two of you thought about when you’d like to organize a visit for your sperm samples? ”

Cal glanced at me, then back at the screen. “Actually, would it be… weird if we went at the same time as Leilani? I mean, if she’s heading to the clinic next week, maybe we just… coordinate? Make it a one-stop fertility drop.”

I blinked. “You want to go with her?”

“I mean, not in the same room,” he said quickly. “Obviously. But if we’re all doing medical stuff, maybe it makes sense to just—get it done. Knock out the samples, check in with the clinic team, answer any awkward questions about our dietary habits and caffeine intake, that sort of thing.”

I turned back to the screen. “Tessa, is that allowed?”

Tessa smiled. “It’s more than allowed. Honestly, it’s a smart move. It saves time, travel, and coordination. As long as Leilani’s comfortable with it, there’s no reason not to sync up.”

Cal nodded. “Great. We’ll ask her. See what she thinks.”

“I doubt she’ll mind,” I said, already reaching for my phone. “She’s pretty unflappable. If she can handle Mrs. Mulroney drinking too much Hawaiian punch at the luau, I’m pretty sure she can roll with anything.”

Tessa gave a professional smile, waving off any mention of Hawaiian punch. “Then it’s settled—tentatively. Let me know after you speak to her. If she’s on board, I’ll schedule all three of you for the same day.”

“Done,” Cal said. “Thanks, Tessa. Really.”

“Of course,” she replied. “We’re moving fast now. Just keep breathing. It’s happening.”

The Zoom call ended.

I turned to Cal, heart thudding in that strange, hopeful way it had been thudding more and more lately.

“We’re going to a fertility clinic,” I said. “In Honolulu. Do you think we have to take our own cup?”

“I think they’ll have one or two they can spare.”

“Just so long as it’s not Karen from admin’s favorite coffee mug, I think I’ll be fine.”

“All you have to do is think sexy thoughts.”

That wouldn’t be difficult. All I’d have to do was picture my husband naked in the shower.

So long as he didn’t picture Hal naked in the shower.