Page 88 of The Playboy Billionaire

What’s going on?

When did the bachelor brigade become interested in baby development?

In the months before Callum arrived, there was pregnancy chat and baby names. I watch in fascination as the boys all nod in agreement. Beam me up, Scotty. I’ve just entered the twilight zone.

“How about you?” Tristan slaps my back, shooting me forward, as I wasn’t expecting it.

“What about me?” I ask.

“Don’t play coy? How’s yournot sonew housemate? Will she be joining us this evening?” Xander asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“Haha. I’m helping her out. And no, she’s not here this evening. I wouldn’t inflict you reprobates on her,” I say, grabbing a beer as a distraction.

I ignore the looks that pass between the group, including my brother—traitor. I’m not in the mood for their teasing. I don’t understand April. She’s one of the most frustrating women I’ve ever met.

“Did you think about what I said?” Gabriel says, coming up to stand next to me.

I called Gabriel in frustration after April’s outburst and refusal to think about taking on the studio once it was rebuilt.

It hadn’t been Gabriel who came up with the solution, but Leah.

“Leah’s suggestion,” I say, shoulder-bumping him for trying to take the credit.

“Just remember, behind every successful man,” my brother chuckles.

“In your case, most definitely,” I tease.

Leah has, after all, worked for him for years.

I like this new relaxed twin. Not only because he doesn’t blow me off every time, I try to see him. But he’s just… more.

“I took Leah’s advice, and I’m working on it,” I say cryptically, not wanting the others to get into my business.

Gabriel nods before taking a plate and digging into the food that Quentin has laid out on the table. I follow suit, making small talk with my friends, finally letting my guard down for the first time in what seems like days.

After dinner, we sit down for our weekly poker game.

Gabriel wins. With his maths genius brain, I’m sure he’s card counting, but it’s impossible to prove. The guys all take it in their stride. It’s become the group challenge—who will be the first to beat Gabe.

“So, Caleb, your house guest resisting your charms?” Tristan asks, throwing in yet another hand.

“That’s got to be a first,” Quentin chimes in. “Are you losing your touch, old man? You are thirty now.”

“Shut up,” I say, lobbing a cushion at him. “Plenty of years left yet.”

“Just saying,” Quentin shrugs, his grin splitting his face. “The proof is in the….” I threaten to throw another cushion, and he rocks backwards, laughing. He’s only a couple of months younger than me, but now he seems to think of himself as a top-rate comedian.

“It’s not like that. I’m helping her get back on her feet,” I say, unsure why I need to defend my actions but doing so anyway.

“Sure you are,” Xander nods. “How many apartments do you own in the city? Thirty? I know at least three are currently empty,” he says, laughing. He would know, his company manage all mine and Gabriel’s property portfolios. I shoot him a glare that would stop most people in their tracks. Instead of shutting up, however, he continues. “Instead, you’re helping, by letting her stay in your apartment,under your roof. Don’t play innocent with us. We know you.”

“It’s not like that…”

“I say he protests too much. He wants to get in her pants, and she’s holding him at bay.”

Quentin laughs.

There’s a cough, and everyone spins around.

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