Page 54 of Dr. Stone
It all felt serene, like a hidden secret in the jungle, the kind of place you’d never know existed unless you were part of this lifestyle.
My parents grew up very wealthy, in financesandin love, but their wealth didn’t come close to what I was witnessing and who I was surrounded by. It was overwhelming and quite comical that I was even here to indulge in any of it.
“So,” Nat said, sitting to my right with Spencer, “does this make you wish you were still writing those billionaire gossipcolumns?” she asked Darcy, Sebastian’s fiancée, seated on Spencer’s other side.
Darcy had this fiery California girl energy, proudly proclaiming how much she loved a simple life and wasn’t impressed by wealth or extravagance. Yet somehow, she’d captured the heart of the oldest Aster son. The Asters practically owned this world of high society, but after chatting with her earlier, I realized she was more like me when it came to these events—a bit intimidated, slightly out of place. Only, Sebastian seemed to anchor her here. That, and love, of course.
As I glanced around our VIP table—Jim, Avery, Alex, Bree, Sebastian, Darcy, Spencer, and Nat—I noticed how every woman had found her way to live inside this lifestyle. Every woman except Nat. She didn’t adapt, she dominated it—fashion, conversation, confidence.
It made me wonder…if Titus really wanted more with me, would I ever wantthis? The truth was, I doubted it. I hadn’t seen or heard from him all day. What kind of life was that—being married to a man defined by everything but you? Maybe there was someone who could thrive with that, who wouldn’t mind being ghosted whenever his projects called. But that woman wasn’t me.
I shook off the thought and pulled myself back into the conversation.
“My lady would have an injunction slapped on our asses by Titus if she whispered a peep of any of this to anyone,” Sebastian said, flashing Darcy a smile over some private joke.
“Perhaps I’ll give up my surf shop in Huntington Beach and return to writing those articles just to get Titus’s attention,” Darcy teased with a laugh.
“Where the hell is that clown?” Alex asked Jim.
Alex Grayson could’ve been a young Johnny Depp’s doppelgänger. The poor man clearly hated the comparison, butit was impossible not to see. His sweet wife, Bree, was one lucky woman.
“Trying to show up fashionably late, I presume,” Jim said with a chuckle, sipping his bourbon.
“Well, his date’s sitting right here,” Avery added slyly. “Perhaps she knows where the man of the hour is?”
“Don’t look at me.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to think this is a trademark Titus move.”
“Leave it to a hot Spaniard to keep us all hanging, waiting on his charming and seductive ass,” Nat quipped, her voice dripping with humor.
“You’re dating him?” Alex’s dark eyes cut to me, and for a second I thought he might actually think I was a damn fool. Thankfully, he smiled, and the tension popped.
“Not tonight, apparently.” I let out a chuckle and glanced around the torchlit space. “Either a python dragged him into the rainforest, or I scared his ass off entirely.”
“Looks like we conjured him just by saying his name,” Spencer said, grinning. “Finally. I’m starving.”
Laughter rippled around the table as Titus strode onto the stage. It was set against a soft waterfall, lit with golden spotlights, and directly in front of our table—his chosen audience of honor.
“Forgive my tardiness and lack of proper manners,” Titus began, his gaze finding mine first before turning to Jim. “It was never my intention to arrive so late, especially not without the lovely Ms. Andie Miller, who so graciously accepted my invitation. I’m honored she’s here tonight, joining me for what I hope will be an evening of family and good friends.”
A low purr of voices rippled through the space, and suddenly every gaze cut to me. Perfect. I was trying to stay low-key—blend into the backdrop of golden lanterns and string music—and instead, I’d been folded into Titus’s grand entrance apology.I forced myself not to squirm, shifting my focus away from the curious stares and locking on Titus alone.
He resumed speaking, dressed in his signature bespoke suit—only tonight the tie was gone, his collar undone, his hair wind-tousled as if he’d actually lived a day instead of gliding through it. This wasn’t the polished billionaire I’d met before. This version looked rawer, more human. More dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with money.
“This,” Titus said, holding up a weathered leather journal, its edges frayed and worn, “is the heart and soul of my mother as it relates to the resort you’re sitting in tonight. Before she passed—before a single stone was laid on this land she cherished—everything you see here was imagined and recorded in this book. It was stolen from my family during a time of grief. Tonight, my aunt has chosen to reconcile her unhappiness and return it to me.”
He turned his gaze toward Bree. “Breanne Grayson, you are one hell of an architect. I gave you only the fragments of my mother’s vision, and you built it as though you already had her map—her heart, her soul. From the lanterns and pools to the meticulously planted gardens, you brought her dream to life.” He shifted toward Jim. “And for that, I’m grateful to James Mitchell for recommending you for something so deeply personal. You delivered beyond expectation.”
The applause that followed rolled like a tide, filling the air around our table.
“I’ll leave the journal with my security,” Titus continued. “If you’d like to see the true foundation of this resort, you’re welcome to honor my mother by viewing her sketches and feeling the devotion that runs deeper than just creating a luxury retreat to hide away in.”
Another pause for applause.
“I had an entirely different speech prepared for tonight, but after dealing with family matters that led to my aunt returning my mother’s journal, things changed. Regardless, James, my co-owner, who worked to streamline everything and get this resort opened ahead of schedule, has a few words.”
The room applauded again as Titus stepped aside, yielding the podium to Jim. Jim clasped his hand in a firm shake, then turned to us with a warm grin.
“Following that might be a little difficult,” Jim chuckled, before glancing back at Titus. “I’m truly glad you finally have your mother’s journal. Every time we sat with Bree and her architects, I knew how deeply it unsettled you not to have it.”
