Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
To put it mildly, Monaco was a complete disaster.
By one-thirty in the morning, half the rooftop installation overlooking Port Hercules had nearly collapsed under the Mediterranean storm winds.
We had drenched florals, damaged lighting, and screaming vendors.
What was supposed to be one of Europe’s most elite galas had descended into absolute chaos.
And somehow, I was still standing. Barely, but I was still moving forward. I would absolutely not allow Mother Nature’s wrath to beat me.
“Move the replacement arrangements inside now,” I ordered into my earpiece as I crossed the soaked marble terrace in heels I would classify as torture devices by this point. “If the wind shifts again, I want every candle lantern secured before guests arrive tomorrow night.”
“On it,” Aria answered.
Goddammit, I thought after my phone vibrated again in my hand.
It was Titus Hawk, of all people… again.
I exhaled sharply, declining the call for the fourth time in less than fifteen minutes as I continued toward the yacht’s ballroom entrance.
I cannot deal with this man right now.
The guy had spent weeks strategically bulldozing his way into my life, and I refused to encourage whatever obsession had apparently taken root in that gorgeous, manipulative head of his.
“Cat!” Marcus called from across the terrace. “The replacement flooring shipment just arrived.”
“Perfect. Have Aria approve placement before installation.”
My phone buzzed again.
Dear God in heaven, man!
I stopped walking this time. I stared down at Titus’s name on my phone as he called again and wondered what the hell was wrong with him.
Another call immediately followed the missed one. Then another.
He’s not like this. I know he’s not like this, whether drunk or sober. As soon as I started to get concerned, a voicemail notification popped up.
I pressed play and stepped away from the chaotic noise around me so I could hear.
Titus’s voice was low, controlled, and unfamiliar in a way that immediately made me feel uneasy.
“Catalina, it’s Titus Hawk. You need to call me immediately. This is about your sister.”
Everything around me stopped in that moment. The wind, the music, and all the chaos swirling around on this yacht.
I immediately hit call back, and Titus answered on the first ring.
“Titus?” My voice came out sharp and breathless. “What happened? Is Amelia okay?”
“Catalina,” he answered calmly, though the seriousness in his voice made my stomach drop. “She’s alive.”
My grip tightened fiercely around the phone. “What do you mean by alive?” I demanded. “What happened?”
“I found her outside my building in Newport,” he said steadily. “She collapsed in front of my car, bleeding and in severe pain. I brought her to Saint John’s by helicopter.”
“Oh my God…” The world around me tilted. The Mediterranean wind tore across the rooftop terrace, and workers shouted somewhere behind me, but suddenly all I could hear was the pounding of my own pulse.
“She’s conscious,” he continued quickly. “John Aster met us on the rooftop with the response team. They already took her for imaging and evaluation.”
I shut my eyes tightly. “She was bleeding?” I whispered, closing my eyes tightly.
“Yes.”
The honesty in that single word made my chest ache.
“But Mickie told her not to panic yet,” he added immediately. “They don’t know what’s causing it. She and John both said early pregnancy bleeding can mean several things.”
Jesus Christ. Amelia had barely even processed the reality of her pregnancy yet, and now this?
I pressed trembling fingers against my forehead.
“She was alone?” I asked in a saddened voice.
“She was trying to get to your office,” he answered. “She accidentally ended up at my building instead.”
I tried to steady my breathing. I never imagined something like this happening to her… all while I was overseas. My God.
“Cat?”
“I’m here.”
“You need to try to relax your breathing until we have more answers.”
“I’m trying to,” I muttered shakily.
“All right.”
“Thank you for helping her and calling me,” I said, truly appreciating the man for doing this for my sister and for alerting me to it all.
“You’re welcome. I’m still at the hospital, so I will update you if I hear anything.”
“You stayed with her?” I asked, completely shocked that the man would stay with a complete stranger.
Even though she was my sister.
“Of course I stayed,” he said in a tone that made me believe he thought I was crazy for thinking he’d leave.
I stared blindly out over the black water below Monaco, trying to process the image of Titus Hawk sitting in a Saint John’s waiting room because of my sister.
“She lost her phone and asked me to call you,” he continued. “I also wanted to ask whether there’s family or someone nearby for her.”
I let out a slow breath. “Our mother lives in Madrid,” I said flatly. “And Amelia barely speaks to her.”
“Does she have any friends in Southern California?” he asked.
I should be thinking of these things, not Titus. My mind was suddenly so scattered, and I needed to pull my shit together for my sister and fast.
“Yes,” I answered quickly. “Her best friend lives in Beverly Hills. I’ll call her right now.”
“Excellent. I’ll stay until someone gets here,” he said calmly. “Or until Amelia tells me it’s all right for me to leave.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. “Titus, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he answered immediately. “But I’m going to.”
And somehow… that affected me far more than it should have.
“Thank you,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief that this was happening. “I’ll call her friend, speak with my clients, and try to secure the next flight out.”
“You’re in Monaco?” he questioned.
“Yes,” I answered.
“My brother, Wyatt, is attending the event you’re hosting. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have him arrange with my flight crew to bring you both back on my jet.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said more firmly. “You’ve gone above and—”
“Catalina,” he said, cutting me off, “I know I don’t need to, but I’m going to. There is no reason to go through the process of securing an airline flight when you can be on my jet within the hour.”
“And your brother?”
“My brother will conclude the reasons for his attendance and will accompany you on the return flight, if you are comfortable with it, of course.”
“Why don’t I call you back after I have a more solid plan? Right now, I need to call Amelia’s friend, Jessica, and speak with my clients.”
“Do that, and I’ll keep you updated on any new information I receive from your sister.”
“Thank you,” I absently nodded.
“I’ll make Wyatt aware as well and have my jet’s crew on standby, waiting for your word on whether to use them to fly back to the States.”
“It’s one in the morning,” I said. “They’re probably sleeping.”
“Nonsense,” I heard him almost laugh on the other end of the phone. “My flight crew knows they could be called at any moment with new itineraries. Focus on your side, and I’ll have answers and assistance ready on my end.”
“You’re right. I need to make some calls. I’ll be in touch.”
By the time I finished speaking with Amelia’s friend, secured temporary oversight of the Kaurent disaster, notified Titus, and finally left the yacht, the storm over Monaco had begun to calm.
Barely.
Rain still lashed across the marina in violent bursts, while black water crashed against the docks hard enough to shake the massive yachts anchored throughout Port Hercules.
I stepped off the dock to see a line of black SUVs waiting near the private marina entrance beneath the glowing security lights, engines already running.
Good God. I didn’t need a security detail to board a damn private jet. But this was Titus we were talking about, and seeing Wyatt leaning casually beside the first vehicle made me think the security must be for him.
The energy the man gave off was as if this were any other day, not some chaotic, stormy night, and a gala he had just been pulled away from for my personal family crisis.
Wyatt Hawk looked absurdly relaxed for it being nearly three in the morning, dressed in dark slacks and a black sweater, with one hand shoved casually into his pocket as rain thrashed through the harbor around him.
The moment he saw me approaching, his expression softened. “Ms. Veléz,” he greeted gently as he opened the rear passenger door for me. “Titus filled me in. I’m Wyatt. I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”
“Call me Cat. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, sliding into the backseat as Wyatt climbed in beside me.
“How is your sister?” he asked quietly as the convoy pulled away from the marina.
Same damn charming Spanish accent as his brother’s.
“They still don’t know.”
Wyatt nodded once, his jaw tightening briefly before he glanced back toward the storm-dark coastline.
“We’ll get you there fast.”
The drive grew quieter after that.
My mind stayed trapped somewhere between worry for Amelia and complete disbelief that Titus Hawk had somehow slipped into the middle of one of the worst nights of my life. And this time, he was the best part of the night, coming to the rescue in the most unexpected ways.
“Titus originally wanted the helicopter sent for you,” Wyatt said casually after several minutes of silence, “but the pilots refused to clear the weather over the water.”
“Yeah, I can see why they wouldn’t want to fly in this weather,” I smiled at him.
By the time we reached Nice C?te d’Azur Airport, the rain had softened to a steady mist over the private aviation terminal, and waiting beyond the illuminated runway was a Gulfstream G800.
Jesus Christ.
The aircraft looked less like a private jet and more like something belonging to a foreign government. Its sleek black body reflected on the wet tarmac as ground crew moved efficiently beneath runway lighting, preparing the aircraft for immediate departure.
“Titus had the crew prep the jet as soon as you agreed,” Wyatt explained calmly beside me. “We’ll be in the air shortly after we board.”
That shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did, since it was such an obvious flex from Titus, but I desperately appreciated him helping me like this.
And because of his help, I was here at nearly three in the morning, emotionally wrecked, staring at the seventy-million-dollar jet Titus Hawk mobilized within an hour because my sister was in the hospital. So yes, the man was suddenly becoming difficult to dislike.
The SUV pulled up in front of the steps, and Wyatt opened the door. Before stepping out, he looked over at me. “You look exhausted, carino,” he said gently, then offered his hand to help me out of the vehicle. “Let’s get you home to your sister.”
“Thank you. Seriously,” I said, stepping out. “I know you’re being pulled away from the event before it even starts.”
He smiled over at me as we walked toward the jet’s staircase. “Please,” he chuckled. “You’ve given me an excellent excuse to drop a check and get the hell out of there.”
I smiled for the first time tonight. “You’re a lot different from Titus, though you do look a lot like your brother.”
“Unfortunately, Titus didn’t get my charming personality to accompany our good looks, so it’s really just wasted on him,” he said with a wink, guiding me up the steps and into the lavish jet.
I glanced toward the cockpit, where the captain and co-pilot were already going through their preflight checks.
“They normally greet us,” Wyatt smirked, gesturing toward the leather chairs. “But Titus told them to focus on getting us in the air upon our arrival,” he said as I went to sit in one of the leather chairs.
“You may sit wherever you like, of course,” he said. “However, there is an entertainment area with sofas and dining tables. Or you may use one of the beds to rest during the flight home.”
“That sounds appealing,” I said, “but I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Come,” he said with a warm smile, his bronze eyes glistening. “I’ll have Meg prepare a meal and cocktails for us to unwind a little.”
“I don’t think I’ll be great conversation,” I said, honestly.
He chuckled lightly as I followed him into what could only be described as an elite gentlemen’s lounge.
“Good evening,” the sharp and attractive flight attendant greeted us. “I’m Meg, and I’m here for anything you may need during the flight.”
“Thanks, Meg,” Wyatt flashed her a flirty grin. “Would you please prepare us a charcuterie board.” He looked at me. “Any preferences for drinks?”
“I’ll just have a glass of red wine,” I answered.
“Anything else to eat?” Meg asked me.
“No, charcuterie sounds perfect. Thank you.”
Wyatt and I settled into our seats while Meg disappeared into the cockpit. I sank into the buttery leather as the engines roared to life, nearly drowning out the storm still raising hell over Monaco.