Page 44 of Dr. Stone
“Thank you,” I answered, shocked that the man remembered me from the last trip. Then again, I’m sure Titus demanded that from everyone in his flight crew.
Before I could take the first step up the staircase, Titus appeared through the doorway of the jet. He was devastatingly handsome in his black open-collar shirt and tailored slacks.
The breeze caught the edge of his jacket, and for a moment, he looked like something out of a dream that belonged to someone wealthier, bolder, and far more reckless than me. I had to push those thoughts away like Ash advised so that I wouldn’t feel like an imposter and would be able to enjoy myself. But seriously, this was insanity.
As I walked up, Titus descended the steps to meet me halfway. “You came,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, you did send a driver and a jet,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “I figured saying no would’ve been rude.”
“If you would have said no, perhaps you’d find out just how rude I could be.”
“Trying to intimidate me?” I playfully responded.
“Never. Just trying to inform you that I do not play games when it comes to ensuring I spend time with you.”
My breath caught with the way his golden eyes became dark and mysterious, looking almost like melting honey. He reached out and took my hand with his warm, steady grip. We stepped into the cabin, and I felt the shift instantly, just like the first time I’d boarded his private jet. The tranquility enveloped me—the scent of leather and expensive cologne mingled with the soft glow of ambient lighting, making everything feel intimate.
“Come. Sit,” he said, leading me to the cream leather seat beside his. “We’re just about to take off. Are you comfortable?”
“More than,” I smiled at him.
“Good,” he murmured, leaning in just enough to make my skin spark. “Because I’ve been waiting all day to see you.”
My heart was thudding as I sank into the seat. Titus leaned over and, without pause, buckled me in himself, fingers grazingmy waist while his golden eyes stayed on mine. Even when we first started dating, it seemed like I was constantly trying to catch my breath and work through my nerves around him. It got to the point that I thought about rejecting future dates with the man because it was exhausting, like running a goddamn marathon.
Now, I was much better. Spending the weekend at his resort in Mexico had worked most of the jitters out of my system. Still, I couldn’t ignore everything, especially when he loved to turn up the heat with that low, smooth voice and those subtle brushes of skin against mine. Just enough to stir a longing for more but never quite enough to cross the line.
Just as Titus finished buckling me in, the cockpit door opened with a soft click. “Mr. Hawk,” the captain greeted before he stepped into the cabin with the kind of quiet authority that came from flying royalty, dignitaries, and men who owned their own islands.
“We’re cleared for takeoff on runway two. The weather is smooth all the way to Costa Rica, and the estimated flight time is five hours, twenty-one minutes.”
Titus gave him a nod. “Thank you, Grant.”
The captain turned to acknowledge me politely. “Again, it’s a pleasure to have you on board, Ms. Miller,” he said with a faint smile, then looked back at Titus. “The cabin has been prepped as requested. Let us know if you need anything before takeoff.”
“Splendid,” Titus replied, his hand resting casually on the armrest between us, fingers brushing mine. “Let Sandy know that once we’re in the air, we would like champagne service and have the chef begin preparing the meal I requested right away. Other than that, we’re ready whenever you’re cleared for takeoff.”
The captain gave a nod and disappeared into the cockpit, the door quietly shutting behind him.
Once we wereat cruising altitude, the cabin shifted from a subtle vibration to a smooth, floating silence. Titus unbuckled my belt and stood, offering his hand like he was inviting me to dance instead of dine.
“Follow me,” he said. “I’m sure you remember the food will be better than anything you’ve had on land.”
“Of course,” I chuckled, happy he was done with whatever business had interrupted him after the captain left us and the plane took off.
He led me to a small dining nook by the expansive, tinted windows. The table was already set—champagne poured into crystal goblets beside silver chargers, while a bottle that looked older than I was rested, perfectly chilled, in a bucket of ice.
“Forgive my lack of manners earlier. I did not intend to ignore you and stare at an unwelcomed email from the moment we took off until now,” he said, somewhat annoyed.
“Oh, please. It was fine,” I brushed off his apology and sipped my champagne.
“It was not fine,” he answered. “I give my attention to business only when intended and scheduled. I do not believe in wasting time—mine or anyone else’s. So, when work attempts to interfere with my personal life, I see it as an inconvenience and a lack of respect for something I value deeply.”
“Ah,” I smiled at him, watching his perfectly full lips take a sip of his champagne with his natural air of supreme confidence. “Well, if your time is more important than what keeps this beautiful plane in the air and us on it, how could you view that as a waste?”
“Touché,” he said, with his cocky yet flirty grin. “Though, for me, I live a very structured and balanced life. I never allow my work to interfere with enjoying the fruits of my labor. And you, beautiful, are indeed one of those fruits.”
I chuckled. “You are too much, sometimes,” I responded as the flight attendant entered the dining area.
