One Night with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club 6)

FIFTEEN

Cade: Hey, man. I can’t be at the Brotherhood meeting tonight. I’m in the U.K. at the moment on business.

Reese: Jolly good!

Cade: I’m picturing you saying that in a horrible accent.

Reese: You should see the look my wife gave me, too.

Cade: How’s the pregnancy going?

Reese: Her ankles are almost as big as her belly. And if she finds out I told you that, she’ll kill me.

Reese: But she’s gorgeous. I mentioned that, right? I mean, she likes pickles on everything at the moment. Like, if I want to get action, I need to douse my dick in pickle juice. But she’s stunning. Radiant. We’re trying to decide on names at the moment.

Cade: Good for you two.

Reese: So I guess that means you don’t want to hear our choices? By the way, you’re not going to miss much at the meeting. My sister-in-law’s going to be there and Griffin’s bringing his woman. Someone mentioned the dreaded words “bridesmaid colors.”

Cade: When did our band of men turn into a hen party?

Reese: The moment everyone started getting their dick wet on a regular basis. Happens to all guys.

Cade: Guess so.

Reese: So . . . how’s that Daphne thing going?

Cade: She’s a hot mess. Still using.

Reese: You ever nail the other girl?

Cade: Better. I married her.

Reese: Bro . . . we got to talk about this playboy thing. You are doing it all wrong.

Cade: I will cheerfully give up all my playboy days if I can keep this one.

Reese: I’d say you’re an idiot, but Audrey is here at my side and making little cooing noises about you getting married, so I get it. I really get it.

Cade: Tell Audrey it’s a secret! We’re not telling Daph. For reasons.

Reese: Shit. I’ll make something up. Got it, bro.

Cade: Later, man. Have fun tonight picking out colors.

Reese: Fuck you.

—

Cade: Hey Daph, you there?

Cade: Daph? Answer me.

Cade: Come on. I know you’re there. Don’t be like this.

Daphne: Maybe.

Cade: I’m just checking in to see how you’re feeling. How’s the tour going?

Daphne: It’s fine.

Cade: I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it for a few weeks. I have business overseas. I’m typing this in London as we speak.

Daphne:

Cade: I promise I’ll come visit when I get back, though?

Daphne: I miss u

Cade: I miss you, too, Daph. You’re a great friend. Have some kickass shows, okay?

Daphne: Will do.

—

Cade: I just had to tell Daphne I miss her. Please don’t hate me.

Kylie: Whatever you said was the right thing. She’s smiling and happy at the moment . . . though that might be the weed she’s smoking.

Cade: Ugh.

Kylie: I know, trust me, I know.

Cade: Feels like I’ve been gone forever.

Kylie: It’s been three hours.

Cade: Still feels like forever.

Kylie: I need to go—Ginger’s coming back to front of bus. XOXO

Later that night

Cade: Can you talk?

Kylie: Wow, it’s really late. You’re still up?

Cade: Just woke up. It’s seven a.m. London time. Did you miss me?

Kylie: I might have. Just a bit.

Cade: I missed you and those sumptuous breasts of yours. My pillow didn’t feel half as good under my head as they do.

Kylie: Is this your way of trying to finagle a photo of them out of me?

Cade: Is it working?

Kylie: Are my panties still up on the table?

Cade: I’m afraid I have to keep them a bit longer. They . . . kept me company last night.

Kylie: You naughty boy.

Cade: Being with you makes me naughty.

Kylie: Just for that sweet comment, I’ll attach a picture.

Kylie: Did you get it?

Cade: Christ almighty.

Cade: That . . . is incredible.

Cade: I think I need a moment. And a private room. And possibly a cold shower.

Kylie: They’re just boobs. Big naked boobs.

Cade: They are not just boobs. They are THE boobs. The best boobs I have ever seen.

Kylie: You’re quickly earning yourself another picture tomorrow. But I want one of you, too.

Cade: Alas, my boobs are less magnificent than yours.

Kylie: First of all, “alas”?? You texted me “alas”??

Cade: You texted me “finagle” the other day!

Kylie: Second of all, I don’t need a boob shot of you. I need a picture of your handsome face.

Cade: I can do that. Sending later . . . if I get another shot of your lovely face in with your boobs.