Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The sunset cast gold across the Newport coastline as Catalina stepped out onto the rooftop helipad above Horizon, the ocean wind sweeping through her dark hair.
I watched her pause near the edge of the rooftop, quietly taking in the helicopter waiting beside us. Most women reacted to my wealth in one of two ways—they either pretended not to care or cared far too much.
Catalina did neither. She simply observed. Lately, I’d begun to realize she wasn’t trying to understand my luxurious lifestyle. She was trying to understand the man behind it.
It was becoming a serious fucking problem for me.
“You’re seriously flying me to Malibu in this thing?” she asked, looking toward the helicopter.
I glanced toward the aircraft. “Catalina, it’s Friday evening in Southern California. Driving to Malibu would qualify as psychological warfare.”
Her laugh escaped softly, a sound that was becoming dangerous for me.
“You do realize normal people just sit in traffic?” she asked as we walked toward the helicopter.
“When it comes to better options for dealing with Southern California’s traffic, I’m not a normal person.”
“That is unfortunately becoming clear again.”
A grin pulled at my mouth.
Good Lord, I smiled too much around this woman. At first, I thought it was because of the casual things we were doing together, which brought out my youthful side, but that theory was proven wrong just this evening when she stepped into my world.
“Tell me honestly,” she continued. “How long did it take before absurd billionaire behavior started to feel normal to you?” she asked, waving her hand toward the helicopter.
I opened the helicopter door for her. “Are we referring to the helicopter or the yacht currently on its way to the West Coast?”
She froze halfway into the cabin. “You’re bringing your yacht from Monaco to the West Coast?”
“Why the hell not?” I answered calmly.
“With summer practically next week, all of your elite parties will be out there.”
“It’s safe to say my yacht won’t be part of them this summer.” I motioned for her to get inside. “After you.”
“That’s—.”
“Get in the helicopter, preciosa,” I grinned.
“I’m just surprised you’d move it when it’s yacht season overseas for you and your fellow elites.”
“Let’s just say that whenever I spot an opportunity, I don’t hesitate to mobilize things in my world to…” I paused when her eyes narrowed at me, “benefit from it.”
I watched her frown in confusion because it didn’t make sense—I’d be the first to admit that—but neither did flying a woman I couldn’t resist being around to Jake Mitchell’s house for a backyard barbecue.
Once we were inside the chopper, Catalina settled into the seat beside mine as my pilot went through preflight procedures.
She glanced around the cabin, then looked back at me. “This helicopter is nicer than my first apartment.”
“That feels slightly dramatic,” I said, informing my driver that we were running five minutes behind schedule.
“It had one functioning air vent and a raccoon living near the dumpster.”
I stared at her. “Catalina…”
“What? I’m dead serious.”
“You grew up around the Valdéz family.”
“And?”
“And somehow you still experienced raccoon-related hardship?”
Her laughter filled the cabin.
Fuck.
I no longer had any idea how to prevent that feeling in my chest every time she laughed.
Moments later, the helicopter lifted smoothly into the air, carrying us north along the glowing California coastline as the Pacific stretched endlessly beneath the fading sunset.
Catalina looked out the window in silence for several seconds before glancing back at me. “Does a man like you ever stop to realize that living like this is quite unrealistic?”
I leaned back slightly in my seat. “Not really.”
“That’s because this is normal for you?”
“No,” I answered honestly, watching the sunset reflect on the ocean below us. “Normal for me is twelve-hour meetings and acquisitions.”
Her eyes shifted toward me then. “And this?”
I looked over at her. “Keeps me from wasting two extra hours in traffic to get up the coast.”
My eyes caught her biting her bottom lip, and I forced my attention away, turning toward the window where the ocean glittered gold in the afternoon sun.
I brought my hand to her chin, guiding her eyes to meet mine again. “This,” I answered quietly, “having you here with me, going to Jake Mitchell’s house...”
The softness that crossed her face afterward nearly fucking ruined me.
“Is what you classify as unrealistic,” she said breathlessly.
I smiled.
“Highly unrealistic, preciosa.” I licked my lips, wanting to taste hers, but managed to control myself. “I have champagne chilled,” I said. “Perhaps bourbon would’ve been a better fit for tonight.” I smiled at her, trying to ease the heat of desire rising in me.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” she raised an eyebrow at me, “we’re going to need to land this chopper at the nearest minimart and pick up a bottle of bourbon.”
With considerable effort, I resisted the urge to turn and kiss her, risking her shoving me away in front of my pilots. Instead, I took another sip of champagne to distract myself.
By the time the helicopter descended toward the private bluff-side landing pad overlooking Malibu, night had settled over the coastline.
Waiting nearby beneath the glowing exterior lights was my black Rolls Royce Cullinan, with my driver already holding the rear passenger door open for us. This was any other typical evening for me. Earlier today was not. Driving myself around in a car I hadn’t driven in four years? Unheard of.
But that wasn’t what was on my mind right now. Not the chopper, not the ease of having a driver waiting to take us to Jake and Ash’s place. No. Somehow tonight, the only thing I found myself focused on was the woman stepping beside me into the warm Malibu air.
The crashing waves below the cliffside property blended with low music drifting through Jake and Ash Mitchell’s outdoor terrace, while the warm breeze moved through the massive tropical oasis they casually called a patio.
Patio my ass. The thing looked like a luxury resort hidden along the coastline.
Palm trees wrapped in soft lighting swayed around multiple fire features as the infinity pool disappeared into the ocean beyond.
Expensive outdoor furniture surrounded oversized stone fireplaces, and somewhere behind me, Jake and Collin argued over whether some piece of machinery was necessary for the OR.
I barely heard any of it. Instead, I watched as Catalina stood on the terrace near the outdoor fireplace with Ash, Avery, Natalia, and Darcy.
And somehow, my entire fucking focus remained there.
I took another drink of my beer while pretending I wasn’t openly watching her.
The woman wore black linen pants tonight with a soft, oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder every time she laughed. The firelight caught in her dark hair while her gold jewelry reflected warm flickers of light each time she moved.
She was a perfect portrait of Spanish beauty.
Catalina Veléz most assuredly possessed the kind of beauty that distracted a man against his will.
The dangerous kind of woman no one warns you about.
The kind that slowly worked beneath your skin until, suddenly, you found yourself moving yachts across oceans and pretending it had absolutely nothing to do with her.
“What’s got you looking so tortured over there?” Jake asked, walking to sit across from me on the sofa.
I smiled at him but didn’t respond. Unfortunately, that only encouraged him.
“Something about golden sunsets in Malibu, eh, buddy?” Collin said, clapping me on the back and sitting next to me. “Is that what you’ve been quietly gawking at for the last twenty minutes?”
“I’m just sitting here,” I answered calmly with a hint of a smile.
“And apparently writing love songs in his head,” Collin continued.
I slowly lowered the beer from my mouth. “Do surgeons ever stop talking?”
“No,” Jake answered immediately. “Especially when you CEOs start acting emotionally compromised.”
“It’s truly the highlight of our lives,” Collin said dramatically.
I exhaled. “Glad life has become such a bore. You’ve found joy in watching me drink a beer and watch the sunset.”
I watched Jake and Collin exchange subtle looks before rolling my eyes and ignoring the men I knew would give me hell about this until I fucked it up somehow and was crying into my bourbon on a lonely Tuesday night.
Unfortunately for them, they wouldn’t get to experience that because I had no plans to mess this up.
I looked back toward Cat just as she threw her head back, laughing at something Avery said.
That damn laugh was becoming a serious issue for me. It did something strange to my chest every time I heard it, something that felt gravely close to peace.
“She’s good for you,” Sebastian casually said from the chair beside mine, scrolling through something on his phone.
I looked over at him.
The bastard didn’t even glance up.
“Based on?” I questioned.
“The fact that you haven’t checked your phone in twenty minutes.”
That made me pause. He was right. Normally, my attention remained split among emails, investors, market movements, and global operations. Constantly. Yet tonight? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked at anything besides her.
That realization somehow felt far more dangerous than comforting.
“I’ll give it to you, man. She is striking,” Wyatt said beside me, entirely too amused. “And you’re completely fucked.”
“Thank you for that insightful contribution.”
“You moved a bazillion-dollar yacht across the planet for her, jackass,” Wyatt continued. “The game is over for you, hermano. You’re positively fucked.”
“I did not move the yacht for her.”
Every man around me looked unconvinced.
“Sure,” Jake nodded. “Why else would you relocate that beast from Monaco to Southern California during the peak of hunting season for you CEOs?”
Before I could respond, I noticed Cat’s smile suddenly disappear, and immediately, my attention sharpened.