Chapter 17 #2
Jack cuts her off with a dramatic eye roll. "What Lilith is desperately trying not to admit is that her front tires are practically bald. I've been begging her to get to the tire shop before she hydroplanes into the Pacific, but—"
"I haven't had the money," Lilith blurts, then quickly corrects herself. "I mean time. And they're perfectly fine for most days. Just not in torrential downpours."
Fuck. My blood burns at the thought of her driving on dangerous tires.
Mateo at Superperformance Foreign Auto Repair might laugh when I roll up with her beat-to-hell Prius instead of my Bugatti or Rolls, but he'll shut up when I slam my black Amex down.
If our situations were reversed, I'd rather walk barefoot through broken glass than take my cars to whatever discount tire hell she uses.
I can't help the possessive smile that crosses my face as Lilith shrinks back, her cheeks flushed crimson.
She thinks I'm judging her—first no insurance for the burst pipes, now this.
What she doesn't understand is that I'm practically starving to take care of her.
The fierce need to protect her hits me like a freight train, and I haven't felt this alive in years.
I arch an eyebrow. "So what I'm hearing is you want me to chauffeur you two in the Rolls."
Jack and Lilith exchange a glance, their heads bobbing in the slightest confirmation.
Jack clears his throat. "Look, my Corolla and I have an understanding—we don't attempt hydroplaning stunts.
And this one," he jerks a thumb toward Lilith, "once pulled over during a light drizzle and called me crying.
" He spreads his hands. "We're Venice Beach people.
Rain happens to other zip codes. When water falls from the sky, we light sage and stay home with our kombucha and true crime documentaries. "
I can't help but laugh. "All right, you two," I say, glancing between them. "Lilith, grab Gracie's carrier on your way out. Your cat's probably hiding under furniture with the power out. And both of you pack for at least two nights."
Relief washes over Lilith's face when I mention her cat.
Her eyes soften instantly. She probably thought I'd make her choose between safety and leaving her pet alone in a dark house. Not happening. She loves that cat too much. I’ve seen how she whispers to Gracie when she thinks no one's watching.
With the way Lilith treats her cat, I wouldn't be surprised to catch them doing a tarot reading together.
Then, before Lilith can protest, I scoop her into my arms—keeping her shoes clear of the flood that's turned the boardwalk into a series of small lakes.
She loops her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder with a sigh.
Her slight frame weighs almost nothing as I navigate through the waterlogged boardwalk toward the parking lot.
The three of us reach my car and I help Lilith, opening the door and depositing her onto the front seat and then gently strap her in.
Behind us, Jack gets into the back seat.
Jack sinks into the cream-colored leather of the Cullinan's back seat, running his fingers along the polished wood trim.
"Lil," he says quietly, the engine purring beneath them.
He fans himself with one hand. "Honey, this isn't a car—it's seduction on wheels.
These massage seats are treating me better than my last three dates combined.
" He looks up at the starlight ceiling and gasps.
"Roman, darling, if this is how rich people live, I've clearly been hanging with the wrong crowd. I might actually faint right now."
Lilith catches Jack's eye and smiles. "Jack," she says, widening her eyes dramatically.
"Doesn't this remind you of my car?" She snorts, running her fingers along the pristine leather.
"Just like my Prius with the Coke stains and sand that's practically part of the upholstery now.
" She pats the immaculate interior. "Practically twins. "
I smile, watching Lilith next to me and Jack in the rearview mirror as they explore my Rolls.
Jack keeps whispering "holy shit" while Lilith presses every button she finds.
I've forgotten what it's like to be impressed by these things.
The car cost more than most houses, but to me it's just transportation.
Seeing their genuine amazement reminds me that none of this is normal.
For a moment, I can almost remember when luxury still felt special.
I drive them home. The rain has turned Lilith's driveway into a miniature lake, so I scoop her into my arms again.
Her body feels light against my chest as I navigate the flooded concrete and climb the short steps to her porch.
When I set her down, our eyes meet for a moment.
"Grab some clothes and your cat," I tell her, glancing at the darkening sky. "We need to leave soon. This storm’s just getting started.”
Back at Verde, I escort Lilith and Jack to their accommodations—the Azure Vista and éclat de l'Onde suites, positioned side by side.
I'd reserved them personally, no small feat considering we're running at nearly 95% capacity these days, up from 80% just a month ago.
I find myself wondering if Lilith's presence has brought some mystical good fortune to the property.
Her arrival coincided with an upswing, though Lars, my marketing manager, would argue it's his new marketing campaign we hammered out last quarter. Either way, the numbers don't lie.
I open the door to Lilith's suite. The Pacific stretches beyond floor-to-ceiling windows.
Her eyes widen at the private terrace with its plunge pool, the silk rug underfoot, the marble catching sunlight.
Champagne chills beside a platter of figs and cheese—standard for guests who don't blink at what this place costs per night.
I leave her alone in the suite, while I check on my team and she has a chance to shower. And damn, what I wouldn’t give to join her in that shower…but, duty calls.
I check back in about an hour, after consulting with my storm team. They have everything in hand, as I knew they would. Greg is a great drill-sergeant - he actually was a drill sergeant in the military, so his role now as the head of my storm protocol team is natural for him.
I open the door and Lilith is now sitting in the living room, in front of the fireplace, where she’s built a fire to warm her up.
She’s dressed in pajamas again, ready for bed, her hair wet again but wet from the shower, not the rain.
She’s fresh-faced, no makeup, and still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“How is this suite for you?” I ask her.