Page 49 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“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 theali?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 aboutkuleana. 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.