Page 72 of Titus

One nurse carefully helped Amelia onto the transport stretcher while another nurse began asking questions about bleeding, symptoms, medications, and pregnancy dates.

John glanced at me briefly as they secured her. “Of all the people, you’re the saint tonight, eh?” he smirked. “Hey, man, thank God you got her here fast,” he said, clapping me on the arm.

“Seemed smarter than waiting in Newport traffic.”

“No shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Amelia suddenly reached for my wrist before they fully rolled her away, fear filling her eyes.

“Can you… can you try to call my sister?” she asked shakily.

My jaw tightened slightly.

John smirked at me because why wouldn’t word spread through all my friends about the bullshit I’d been complaining about with Catalina? John was closest to my brother Wyatt, so I’m sure he’d already told him plenty, and I could only imagine what John was thinking about all of this. It made a lot of sense why Mick’s tone changed on the phone when she thanked me.

“Yeah,” I answered firmly. “I’ll handle it.”

“Titus, are you staying?” John asked me.

“Um, yes, I’ll stay and call her sister. Once someone relieves me, I’ll leave,” I answered.

“Great, follow us,” he said as I trailed behind the crew and called back to my pilots to take the chopper to its hangar for the night.

Shit. Now I was left with the strangest dilemma of all: how the hell was I supposed to relay this to Cat? Outside of my father, nobody had made me this uneasy in a long damn time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

To put it mildly, Monaco was a complete disaster.

By one-thirty in the morning, half the rooftop installation overlooking Port Hercules had nearly collapsed under the Mediterranean storm winds. We had drenched florals, damaged lighting, and screaming vendors. What was supposed to be one of Europe’s most elite galas had descended into absolute chaos.

And somehow, I was still standing. Barely, but I was still moving forward. I would absolutely not allow Mother Nature’s wrath to beat me.

“Move the replacement arrangements inside now,” I ordered into my earpiece as I crossed the soaked marble terrace in heels I would classify as torture devices by this point. “If the wind shifts again, I want every candle lantern secured before guests arrive tomorrow night.”

“On it,” Aria answered.

Goddammit, I thought after my phone vibrated again in my hand.

It was Titus Hawk, of all people… again.

I exhaled sharply, declining the call for the fourth time in less than fifteen minutes as I continued toward the yacht’s ballroom entrance.

I cannot deal with this man right now.

The guy had spent weeks strategically bulldozing his way into my life, and I refused to encourage whatever obsession had apparently taken root in that gorgeous, manipulative head of his.

“Cat!” Marcus called from across the terrace. “The replacement flooring shipment just arrived.”

“Perfect. Have Aria approve placement before installation.”

My phone buzzed again.

Dear God in heaven, man!

I stopped walking this time. I stared down at Titus’s name on my phone as he called again and wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

Another call immediately followed the missed one. Then another.