Page 7 of The Billionaire's Paradise

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. Likeclose-close. Instead, I finished my glass of water… then opened the fridge and closed it again without taking anything out… then opened a cupboard 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?”