Page 98 of The Billionaire Experience

“She works, Dad. Like Reagan. She’s”—Brody spun his cigar between his fingers while searching for the right word—“independent. Likes to do things on her own.”

Like buy the house he’d rather gift to her.

“The best kind of women are independent,” O said.

“Not necessarily,” Dante grumbled before sucking on the end of his cigar.

Brody crossed one leg, expecting their dad to give Dante shit, but they both turned on him instead.

“What do you think of this idiot?” O asked Dante, pointing at Brody with his cigar. “In love with a woman and won’t admit it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” Dante shook his head. “He’s a broken man.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t love Reagan?” Dante accused, leaning forward to rest both elbows on his knees.

Brody shifted in his seat before he mumbled a “No” he wasn’t sure he fully meant. Reagan meant a lot to him, but in love with her? That was a leap.

“Pathetic.” Dante sat back in his chair once again before slanting a glance at their father.

“You’re a couple of assholes.” Brody stood to refill his brandy, leaving his smoking cigar in the wide square ashtray between them.

“The apple doesn’t fall far,” O said around his own cigar.

“Crabapple,” Brody corrected. He opened the balcony door when he heard a female voice call out, “Hellooooo?”

Octavius’s head whipped around.

“Is that Keaton Killdeer?” Dante asked with a smile.

“One and the same!” She pressed a kiss to Brody’s cheek. “Hi, darling. Bruce said you called for a ride home tonight, so I saved him the trouble of dropping me separate. Your apartment is closer to mine than this hotel.”

“Uh-huh,” Brody mumbled. He doubted her showing up had anything to do with proximity.

“Hi, Dante.”

“Hey, Keat.” Dante tilted his face to receive his kiss on the cheek.

Brody’s mom was dressed in wide-leg pants and a tunic, a large-framed pair of glasses perched on top of her head. She dropped a sizable Louis Vuitton bag on the outdoor sofa before settling into the open chair next to O. “Hello, Octavius.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” Octavius had recovered well, leaning over to receive a cheek kiss from Keaton as well. She snagged the cigar from his hand and took a puff.

“It’s been a hell of a day. Bruce said Reagan went home. Why?”

Dante and Octavius looked to Brody for an answer. Brody retook his seat across from his mom. His refill would have to wait.

“Apparently,” he said as he lifted his cigar to his lips, “I’m an idiot.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Reagan stifled a yawn and adjusted her seat again. She supposed if she were to be stuck anywhere, on a tarmac in a private jet with a bedroom, bathroom, and plenty of food and champagne was a good choice. At least she’d had time to change from her heels and gown into jeans and a comfy shirt.

“I can’t believe our pilot isn’t here yet!” Jaylyn complained. She hadn’t bothered changing from her dressy attire—no surprise. “I could have stayed at the party and found out who won my ring.”

“I’m sure it sold for a mint. It’s a beautiful design.”

“Thanks.” Jaylyn brightened.

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