Page 108 of Titus

“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.