Page 3 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

“Right,” she said, shifting gears. “Okay. Well. That land Hal’s interested in, the three thousand acres in Maui?

It’s complicated. There are old trusts, cultural claims, and some disputed inheritance lines that go back generations.

Cal, there’s history there. Real history.

Family connections. The kind of thing you can’t bulldoze for infinity pools, no matter how exclusive the guest list is. ”

“Does Hal know this?” Cal asked quietly. “How much does he know?”

“Not a lot, if you ask me,” Rashida said.

“And at this stage, nothing’s concrete—both literally or figuratively.

There’s still a whole lot of paperwork going up and down that chain.

But while Hal sees a beach, I see a chessboard.

And if he moves too fast, he’s going to step on something sacred. Maybe some one sacred.”

Cal’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying we need to tread carefully.”

“I’m saying this could blow up, Cal. Not just in the press, but in ways that matter more than your bottom line.”

There was a pause. Not defensive, just thoughtful. Cal’s fingers tapped lightly against the leather seat, the way they always did when he was running numbers in his head. Except this wasn’t just about numbers.

“I hear you,” he said at last. “But we don’t have enough to go on yet. You said it yourself—nothing’s concrete.”

“Yet,” Rashida warned .

“I’m not bulldozing anything,” Cal said calmly.

“But Hal’s proposal makes sense on paper.

The resort would bring serious revenue to the island, create jobs, and elevate the Croft Foundation’s portfolio in the Pacific.

If there’s a cultural complication, then we’ll figure that out.

Respectfully. But I can’t just walk away because there might be a story buried under the sand. ”

I stayed quiet, which for me is historic. My gut didn’t like the word elevate , but this wasn’t the moment to unpack it.

“Let me dig further,” Rashida said. “I’ll get you more than speculation.”

“Do that,” Cal replied. “If something’s there, we’ll pivot. But I’m not pulling the plug based on a feeling.”

“Just don’t let Hal charm you into moving faster than you should,” she warned. “Remember, some Bond villains are very likeable at the start. Except that one with the bald cat. That species makes no sense whatsoever. I think God fell asleep at the wheel that day.”

Cal cracked a smile. “You’ve made your point.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop Mr. Hal Chambers from trying to trademark the phrase ‘ aloha, but make it luxury.’ ”

Rashida hung up.

The limo was quiet for a moment. Cal glanced at me.

“You have thoughts,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “I mean… it does sound like there’s more to the land than beachfront views and mimosas. But I get it. You’re not the bad guy here.”

“I just need the facts,” Cal said. “Once we have them, we’ll do the right thing. But I can’t base billion-dollar decisions on ‘vibes.’”

“Totally,” I said. “For the record, my vibes are usually dead-on. But sure, facts are cool too.”

He gave me a look. Then reached for my hand again.

“I’m not Hal,” he said softly .

“I know,” I said. “You’re why I don’t throw up in limousines anymore.”

He laughed, and we both leaned back, the city lights catching in the windows as the car turned onto Broadway.

The lighting was low, the linen crisp, and the waiters moved so gracefully it felt like interrupting them might be a crime in France.

Cal and I arrived first.

And then Hal Chambers swept in like a popping champagne cork—loud, able to take out an eye, and completely unaware he’d just knocked over the centerpiece.

He was tanned, beaming, already laughing at something he’d just said to himself. His jacket was unbuttoned, his shirt open to mid-chest and showing off the work of a well-paid personal trainer, while his hair looked like it had just been styled by a Mediterranean breeze.

“Gentlemen!” he said, gliding into the room with open arms. “Sorry I’m late. I had a minor incident involving an artisanal foot bath and a retired Olympic diver. Long story. I won’t bore you with it now. Smells incredible in here, by the way. Is that bergamot? I love bergamot.”

It took all my strength not to reach for my phone and google bergamot.

Hal kissed the air near Cal’s cheek, clapped him on the back, and then pointed to me. “You brought the husband,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I love this guy. What’s your name again? Leo. Christopher. Pedro.”

“It’s Matt, actually.”

“That’s right. Cal told me you saved his life. That’s how you guys met. You a were bodyguard or something? Because…” He st arted to chuckle, unable to help himself. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like a bodyguard.”

“I’m not a bodyguard. I was delivering flowers when—”

Hal burst out laughing. “Delivering flowers? Is that even a job?” He slapped my shoulder and pointed at me. “You’re a hoot, you know that?”

With that, he turned back to Cal… and I disappeared completely.

Unnervingly, the two billionaires fell into a rhythm immediately. Not in a showy way. Just easy. Effortless. Two men who clearly spoke the same language.

They talked about the land in Maui. The numbers. The opportunity. Hal tossed around phrases like vertical luxury integration and superyacht marina . Cal nodded thoughtfully, asked smart questions, sometimes even pushed back. But there was a spark in his eye.

I sipped my wine.

They ordered small plates I couldn’t pronounce.

I smiled politely.

They laughed about something that happened when they first met in St. Barts. I wasn’t there for it. Or the follow-up trip. Or the inside joke about the Swiss billionaire who commissioned a Swarovski crystal chandelier for his wine cellar, then complained that it ruined the ambience.

“Remember that insane thunderstorm?” Hal said. “I thought we were going to have to spend the night in that wine cellar.”

Cal chuckled. “You did! You passed out on a crate of 1964 Merlot.”

Hal threw his head back, laughing like someone had just whispered a six-figure tax loophole into his ear. “God, that was a good trip. We need another one. Just the guys. Phones off. World off.”

“Yeah,” Cal said, smiling. “That’d be nice.”

I watched him. Just for a second too long. The way his face softened when he laughed. The way his eyes lit up around Hal .

I looked down at my plate. The miso foam circling my quail had collapsed into a puddle of sadness.

They kept talking. I tried to jump in once—something about cultural impact and generational land rights—but Hal blinked like I’d just spoken Latin.

When he finally bothered to figure out the gist of what I was saying, he waved a hand at me. “Sure, sure. That’s what PR’s for.”

And then he was off again. Another idea. Another vision. Another shared memory with Cal.

And I sat there, smiling too much. Nodding too hard. Like a plus-one at a wedding where I barely knew the bride.

It was subtle, the sinking feeling I experienced in that moment.

But it was there.

Cal belonged in this world. That was clear.

But I wasn’t sure I did.

The elevator pinged and we stepped into the quiet hush of our penthouse, where the lights had been dimmed by the automation system and the skyline twinkled through the floor-to-ceiling view.

Cal shrugged off his jacket and loosened his collar.

“Well,” he said, heading to the kitchen and pouring us each a glass of water.

“That went surprisingly well. Hal’s got some smart plays brewing.

He’s chaotic, sure, but the numbers check out.

If we pivot on the resort-side revenue, I think there’s something there. ”

I nodded, watching him over the counter as he slid my glass of water to me. “He’s very… confident.”

Cal grinned. “That’s one word for it.”

I wanted to ask if they’d been close in college.

Like close -close. Instead, I finished my glass of water…

then opened the fridge and closed it again without taking anything out…

then opened a cupb oard and stared blankly at one of Angus’s tins of fortune cookies.

I thought about cracking one open to see what our future held, but I didn’t want to tempt fate.

“He’s very handsome,” I said. Casually. I even shrugged when I said it. Cool and calm.

Cal turned to look at me. “You’re not jealous of Hal Chambers, are you?”

“No,” I said. “Not really.” I scratched my head.

Cal grinned and came around the counter, wrapping his arms around me. “You know why I married you, right?”

I didn’t answer right away.

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

“Because you’re you. You saved me from a garbage truck.

You crashed into my world and changed it forever.

You make me laugh and you drive me crazy, and I fall in love with you more and more every day.

And there’s nobody else in this world I want but you. Nobody.”

I bit my lip. “Even if they have a billion-dollar investment portfolio and a fleet of private jets and a name like Hal Chambers?”

He kissed my forehead. “Especially if they’re named Hal Chambers.”

I narrowed my eyes. “When you say I drive you crazy… is that like a good crazy, or a bad crazy?”

He laughed. “I’ll take the Fifth on that one.”

I rested my head on his chest, letting the scent of wine and cologne and Cal settle around me.

We stood there for a while. His hand moved slowly across my back. My fingers played with the hem of his shirt. It was one of those quiet, late-night kitchen moments where everything could be fine… but something still buzzed beneath the surface.

I cleared my throat. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

Cal gave a low “mmm” and kept rubbing my back.

I hesitated. “Hypothetically… if someone, say me, happened to find a certain glossy brochure under a Daffy Duck tie in your dr awer—purely by accident, of course—what would you say that meant?”

His hand paused.

I tilted my head to look at him. “The brochure had a lot of smiling babies on it. And also the words ‘premium tailored solutions to suit you,’ which frankly sounds like a shopping experience at Brooks Brothers.”

Cal winced. “Okay. I was hoping you wouldn’t find that yet.”

I pulled back, my heart doing a stupid little leap. “ Yet ?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to be sneaky. I’ve just been… thinking. Quietly. Casually. Panicking, a little. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to say it out loud.”

I blinked. “Say what out loud?”

“That I’ve been thinking about… us. Having a baby. Starting a family.” He looked at me, then away. “It’s not just the wine talking, I swear.”

I stared at him.

“You’re allowed to freak out,” Cal said quickly.

“I just—God, I didn’t want to pressure you, Matt.

I’ve been carrying this idea around like a secret hot potato.

And maybe that’s not fair. But you’re my whole life.

And lately I’ve been wondering if maybe…

our life could have more people in it. Small ones.

That throw food and cry a lot. Then this afternoon, when I saw you and Angus and Mr. Banks and Mrs. Mulroney holding her Cabbage Patch doll upside -down, well I…

hell, I didn’t know whether I was going to burst out laughing or burst into tears. ”

I was quiet for a second too long.

Cal’s face fell. “If this is all too much, I—”

I shut him up with a kiss planted firmly on his lips, then wrapped my arms tightly around him. “I thought I was the only one secretly thinking about it.”

His whole body relaxed into my arms.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” I mumbled into his shirt. “ I thought you’d think I was being impulsive, or overcompensating for something, or—”

He kissed the top of my head. “Or maybe I’d say yes.”

We didn’t say anything else for a long time.

Eventually, Cal said, “So… maybe we keep talking about it?”

“Maybe we start talking about it,” I said.

He smiled into my hair. “We’re gonna screw this up so spectacularly.”

“Spectacularly,” I agreed.

But neither of us let go.