Page 152 of Titus

Then the star of the show came into view. Goddamn, I’d missed this man while he’d been overseas for the week. Titus was lounging on a chaise chair beside the pool, one arm draped casually across his lap as his phone rested against his ear.

His dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his attention was focused entirely on the unfortunate person on the other end of the call.

“No.”

The single word carried across the terrace. His voice was low and lethal, and I couldn’t help but pity whoever was speaking to him.

“Telling me it can’t be done doesn’t make it impossible,” he continued. “Tell me, do you know how I interpret the chicken shit word can’t?”

I fought a smile.

“It means won’t. So, when you sit here and waste my time with bullshit excuses, telling me a project can’t be completed, what I hear is that you won’t complete it.” His expression hardened. “Do you realize you’re telling me, of all people, that you won’t get the job done?”

The ocean breeze shifted his dark hair while the late-afternoon sunlight highlighted the powerful lines of his body, stretched comfortably across the chair.

The man looked unlawfully attractive. Enjoying the view of him, I took in every detail. White linen pants sat low on his hips, while the sleeves of his light blue linen button-down were rolled casually to his forearms.

Bare feet. God help me, even his bare feet were somehow sexy.

“Then replace him.”

Silence.

He reached for the glass beside him and took a sip. “No, Carlos. Again, I’m not interested in excuses. I’m interested in results.”

Another pause, then his head turned slightly. Even behind his sunglasses, I knew the exact second he noticed me.

Everything about him changed. I watched the tension instantly disappear and the sharpness vanish. The ruthless billionaire who had probably been dismantling someone’s career thirty seconds ago suddenly smiled.

My stomach immediately flooded with butterflies.

“Excellent,” he said into the phone. “Handle it.”

He ended the call without another word, then stood.

Lord help me.

I really needed to stop reacting so hormonally every time I looked at this man.

“Preciosa.” The way he said his name for me felt like a kiss.

His eyes slowly moved over me, taking in every detail, and judging from the way his jaw tensed, he liked what he saw.

“Am I interrupting?”

“You’re never an interruption,” the corner of his mouth lifted. “You likely just saved a man’s job, if I’m honest.”

He crossed the terrace toward me, and as always when I saw him, the rest of the world seemed to disappear.

I was in his arms in that moment, with him kissing me with so much passion and power, and I struggled to return the delicious kiss properly.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said. “The things that have run through my mind about what I would do to you when I returned are going to keep you in ecstasy until the sun rises tomorrow.”

I chuckled. “I’m here because I needed to inform you about the plans for the event this weekend,” I said, running my hands up and along his biceps. “Well, shit.” I looked back at him. “We’re never going to get anything done while we’re in the same room together.”

He grinned, pulling me close to him, “Oh, we’ll be getting the most important things done, I can promise you that much.”

I shook my head. “First, I really want to go over the details of what you blindly handed me to run your event.”