Page 5 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)
In my defense, it wasn’t a plan .
It was a vague romantic impulse involving roses, a reusable tote bag, and a last-minute decision to surprise my husband. It’s what romance writers do, right?
I stepped off the elevator at Croft Enterprises and smiled at the new receptionist, who looked up from her keyboard with the expression of someone about to cancel Christmas.
“Oh! Hi,” I said, immediately intimidated by her half-lidded gaze. I held out the flowers like a peace offering. “Is Cal free? I thought I’d drop these off.”
She hesitated. “Mr. Croft is out at lunch.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “He didn’t mention that this morning.”
“It was a last-minute thing. He’s with Mr. Chambers.”
Of course he was.
Hal.
Freaking.
Chambers.
“Right,” I said, too brightly. “Of course he is.”
“And you are?”
“I’m Matt. Cal’s husband. ”
“Oh.” The receptionist began filing a nail. “Awks.”
Before I could crash -and -burn into a silent jealous monologue about Hal’s symmetrical face and Swiss bank accounts, a familiar voice cut in from the hallway.
“Why are you holding those flowers like you just got dumped on The Bachelor ?”
Rashida swept into view, wielding an iPad in one hand and a pen in the other like an Amazon gladiator in the form of a PA. She raised one eyebrow and gave me a look that said, “Whatever emotional tornado you’re caught in, I’m not getting pulled into it without snacks.”
“I thought I’d surprise Cal,” I said feebly.
She took the flowers from my hand like I was no longer qualified to handle them. “Come on. You’re not going to stand out here like a jilted prom date. Let’s find some water before these poor flowers start wilting faster than your self-esteem.”
She led me into Cal’s office. It was all glass and walnut and quiet confidence—spacious without being showy, elegant without trying too hard. Everything had clean lines and purpose… just like my husband.
Rashida vanished into the en-suite bathroom and re-emerged with a tall glass vase. She started arranging the roses with practiced hands. She adjusted one stem, then another, stepping back to survey her work. “There, that’s better. They just needed a drink and someone to notice. Don’t we all?”
As she continued to perfect her flower sculpture, she didn’t even look up as she said, “Okay, first of all—don’t be jealous.”
“About what?” I tried to sound clueless. I was usually pretty good at that, but not today.
Rashida glanced up and rolled her eyes. “About you-know-who.”
I feigned laughter… badly. “Oh, Hal? I’m not jealous of Hal.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gave a rose a precise twist. “You brought flowers to a man who didn’t tell you he had lunch plans. That’s jealousy with petals.”
I sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe I’m a little jealous.”
“Of what? Hal’s annoying. He’s so obnoxious. What’s there to be jealous of?”
“I don’t know. The way he and Cal talk money and laugh about the good old days and reminisce about their rowing team—it’s like The Social Network , but with less coding and more rowing.”
Rashida didn’t even blink. “Ugh. I hate rowing. It’s just synchronized overcompensating. Let them have their little strolls down memory lane. Trust me, they don’t mean a thing.”
“But I don’t want Cal strolling anywhere with that man, not down memory lane and least of all to lunch! Why are we even letting Cal share sides of asparagus and Brussels sprouts with this guy?”
She gave me a knowing smile. “Because Cal has to learn this one on his own. You can’t teach someone not to burn their tongue on soup. You just have to let them do it.”
I collapsed into the armchair across from Cal’s desk. “Why are you always so cryptic?”
“Because I’m a goddamn angel,” she said sweetly. “It’s part of the curriculum. First you learn how to be cryptic, then they introduce wisdom, and by the time you’ve studied all that, you’re ready for divine intervention. Speaking of which—surrogacy update.”
I sat up. “Wait—Cal told you?”
“Cal doesn’t have to tell me anything. I just know things. Geez, do I need to tell you more about celestial college?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She sat in Cal’s chair, whipped a sleek folder from a briefcase that seemed to come from nowhere, and slid it across the desk.
“I’ve taken the liberty of booking your first meeting.
You’re seeing a firm called True Path Family Planning .
They’re discreet, established, and nobody there owns a ring light.
Your case manager will be a woman named Tessa—very calm, very competent, looks like she teaches Pilates but secretly reads court transcripts for fun. ”
I stood from the armchair and stepped up to the desk. “You already booked it?”
“Tomorrow morning at ten. It’s in Cal’s calendar. I’ll be telling him this afternoon, once he’s done mistaking Hal’s charisma for competence. It happens.”
“You’re amazing.”
“I know.”
She stood, gave one of the roses in the vase a gentle pat, then straightened the bouquet and stepped back to admire it like she’d just hung the Mona Lisa.
“There. It’s nice to see something bright and full of life in this office for once. Just wait till there’s a bassinet in the corner and spit-up on the Armani.” With a wink, she smiled. “It’s gonna be chaos. And it’s gonna be beautiful. Trust me.”