The Playboy’s Downfall novel Chapter 2

ISLA

I flashed a faint smile. “It’s because of our child—”

“No, it’s because he loves you. Zero is different if he’s in love. Like he used to with Til—” Becca halted as if she was about to blow a secret. “Ah, never mind. At least, Zero deserves to be with you now.”

I squinted my eyes and stared at her. “Are you about to mention a name?”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Huh? T-That was nothing, really. Anyway, we’re going to enter the same school, still, alright?”

I sighed and nodded. I know Becca; even if I’m going to ask about it, she will completely ignore and divert the topic. I guess I’ll just ask Zero about his past relationship—or better not. It’s not that I’m interested, though. He even fucked different women but still ended up with me. So, why bother? Besides, I trust him. And that’s the important aspect of our relationship.

“How about you?”

“Me? Why?” Becca asked as she leaned down and touched my daughter’s hand.

“What’s going on between you and my brother?”

“Oh. We had sex—Ouch! Why did you hit me?” Becca exclaimed, making my daughter cry.

I shook my head and carried my daughter as I calmed her. “Look what have you done. Your voice is too loud—”

“You hit me in the face!” Becca exclaimed, making my daughter cry even louder.

I shot a glare at her, and she withdrew awkwardly, gesturing a peace sign.

I sighed and raised my shirt as I fed my daughter. “Because you’re mouth spitting foul word again—”

“Oh, really? As if. Anyway, did you have sex with—”

“Rebecca…!”

I tapped my baby’s butt slightly to calm her.

Becca laughed. “Sorry. It’s just us.”

“So, am I gonna expect a niece or nephew in a month?” I teased.

Becca arched her brow. “Huh? No. He spits it outside—”

“So, Apollo was the one who popped your cherry?”

Becca rolled her eyeballs at me. “Of course. And damn that brother of yours, he’s acting gently, yet he loves it harshly,” she replied, which made me shake my head.

“Well, that’s Apollo. By the way, congrats, best friend. You’re a woman now,” I teased.

Becca flipped her hair and stood up. “I know, right,” she replied, “Anyway, highway, what do you want for breakfast?”

I arched my brow. “Why? Are you going to cook?”

Becca lifted her head and arched her brow. “Yes. Master Chef Rebecca Foster will cook for her majesty, Princess Isla Peterson-Cohen,” she answered.

“Ain’t married yet,” I replied.

Becca smirked. “Oh, well…” she shrugs, “—I think Zero was too slow in that part. You wanna want to come with me. or you’re going to feed Eight first?”

I smiled.

“And what’s with the number names anyway? 7 was Zero, and you named your daughter Eight. So, if you’re going to get pregnant again, you will name him Nine?”

I let out a soft chuckle and smiled when I looked at my daughter. She fell asleep that fast.