Page 129 of Titus

“Is everything okay?”

No.

“It is now,” I said, drawing her soft hand into the bend of my arm.

I moved faster than I should have, silently cursing myself for ever thinking a romantic dinner on my yacht was a good idea. This entire night was backfiring on me in ways I never expected.

I needed distance before my restraint snapped completely, or the damn cellist was about to witness me lose every ounce of self-control I possessed with Catalina sitting across from me at that table.

This was becoming a serious problem.

“Slow down,” she said with a laugh that brought a smile to my lips.

“Forgive me,” I exhaled, relieved we were out of my quarters and heading down the hallway.

“It’s fine, but you’re speedwalking, and unlike you, I actually ate my dinner tonight.” She chuckled. “I don’t need a side ache.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a tad dramatic.”

“Fleeing your romantic dinner without eating it, while forcing a lady to skip her dessert, is a tad dramatic, sir.”

Thank God she was casual about this because I had no idea how to handle these emotions.

My hand tightened around hers instinctively as I guided her farther along the private deck. We moved deeper into the yacht, where the lighting softened and gently lit the dark polished wood. I stopped outside a set of double doors near the private suites.

Catalina looked up at me curiously. “Are you sending me to my room?” she teased.

“Indeed, I am,” I said directly and truthfully. “But not dismissively. I’m simply excited to hear what you think of it, since you grew up in Madrid.”

“Oh,” she seemed intrigued now, and I was honestly shocked she wasn’t ready to throw me overboard after my earlier ridiculous behavior.

I opened the doors slowly, and for the first time that evening, Catalina looked completely speechless.

Warm golden light glowed across dark walnut wood and cream stone as massive arched windows overlooked the ocean. Rich textures filled the suite—soft woven rugs, warm leather seating, black iron detailing, bookshelves lined with old Spanish literature, and artwork depicting Madrid at night.

But the true centerpiece lay beyond the open glass doors. A private terrace, illuminated by softly flickering lanterns, surrounded a small fountain inspired by old Spanish courtyards, while ivy climbed elegantly around stone walls designed to mirror Madrid’s architecture.

The scent of jasmine drifted through the ocean air, completing the atmosphere of the secluded retreat I’d created aboard my yacht.

Catalina stared at everything slowly. “This is beyond anything I would have imagined. It even smells like Madrid,” she said, covering her heart and laughing. “It looks just like one of the homes where I grew up.”

A quiet smile tugged at my mouth as I watched her take it in.

Her eyes moved carefully across the suite again. “It feels…” She exhaled softly. “Warm.”

I stepped into the room beside her. “When I designed this yacht, I hated how cold most luxury spaces felt.” My gaze drifted to the terrace beyond the glass. “Madrid never felt that way to me. Spain has always felt like home.”

Catalina slowly walked farther inside, fingertips brushing lightly across the back of one of the leather chairs.

“It feels like we stepped through a portal,” she quietly laughed and looked back at me.

I held her gaze in the warm light, the ocean shadows surrounding us, and Christ—seeing Catalina standing in this room felt far more intimate than I’d prepared for. And I thought I couldn’t control my own ass at dinner? The difference is, this time I didn’t want to restrain myself.

The jasmine drifting across the terrace, the lantern light against her skin, and the satin hugging her body were enough for me to lose all sense of control, with zero regrets. I watched quietly as she looked around my private retreat, as if she genuinely understood what this place meant to me.

She had no idea that no one came in here. No one. Yet it seemed I had this room created for her alone.

“I’ll be honest…” Catalina turned slowly beneath the warm lighting, her fingertips brushing lightly along the bookshelf before she looked back at me again. “This feels like a completely different side of you.”