Page 31 of Merry with a Tycoon

I think of unanswered calls, of blocked numbers, of the distance that’s grown between Crystal and me since that last night together. “I don’t think she wants to,” I admit, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Vivian reaches out, squeezing my arm in a gesture of unexpected kindness. “Her loss,” she says softly. Then, with asad smile, “You know, Preston, I think this is the most honest conversation we’ve had in years.”

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. “Maybe we needed this. Closure, I mean.”

She nods, a wistful look in her eyes. “Maybe we did. For what it’s worth, I hope it works out with Crystal. You deserve to be happy. Really happy, not just business-deal happy.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling a genuine warmth towards her. “I hope you find your real home too, wherever or whatever that might be.”

She smiles, a real smile this time. “Goodnight, Preston. And good luck.”

As her door closes, I’m left alone in the quiet hallway, the weight of my realizations pressing down on me. Vivian’s words echo in my mind—“It’s her, isn’t it?”

And for the first time, I allow myself to acknowledge the truth.

Yes. Yes, it is. It’s always been her.

I just didn’t know it.

I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over Crystal’s number. But what’s the point? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to hear from me. With a sigh, I toss the phone aside and move to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the Shanghai night.

I’ve spent the past week throwing myself into work, hoping to drown out the ache of Crystal’s absence with contracts and negotiations. But standing here, thousands of miles from Love Beach, I’m forced to confront the truth I’ve been avoiding.

I’m in love with Crystal Francia.

The realization should be liberating, but instead, it feels like a cruel joke. I’ve finally found someone who sees me for who I am, who challenges me and excites me in equal measure, and she wants nothing to do with me.

I rest my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes. How did I let things get so messed up? The memory of our last night together plays in my mind - the softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, we could have something real.

But then morning came, and with it, my work, specifically meetings with one of the developers and other investors. All I could do was leave her a rose, stolen from her landlady’s courtyard garden (thanks to Javi who climbed over the damn fence and cut it for me).

But since then, Crystal has carefully constructed a wall around her heart, blocking my number and not answering any of my calls, even the ones from my bodyguards’ phones.

Hell, I feel like a stalker, unable to take no for an answer.

My phone buzzes with a message from Javi - another update on the Seaside Square situation. I should read it, should care about the progress of the project that started all of this. But in this moment, all I can think about is the little mosaic shop and the woman who runs it.

As I turn away from the window, my hand instinctively reaches into my pocket, fingers closing around a familiar shape. I pull out the small mosaic piece I’ve carried with me on every trip for years now, a little slice of Love Beach I can hold in the palm of my hand.

It’s no larger than a poker chip, but the detail packed into its circular frame never fails to amaze me. Tiny tiles in shades of gold, orange, and deep purple are arranged in a swirling pattern, capturing the essence of a Love Beach sunset. The way the colors blend and flow reminds me of the way the sky seems to melt into the ocean on those perfect evenings when the whole world seems to hold its breath in awe.

I remember the day I bought this piece from Crystal’s shop. She’d just finished it, and her eyes lit up as she described howshe’d been inspired by a particularly stunning sunset the week before.I wanted to capture that moment, she’d said, her voice full of passion.That feeling when you look at the sky and can’t quite believe something so beautiful can exist in the real world.

Little did she know, I was experiencing that exact feeling as I watched her talk.

I run my thumb over the smooth surface of the mosaic, feeling the almost imperceptible ridges where the tiles meet. It’s become something of a lucky charm for me over the years. Whenever a negotiation gets tough or a deal seems on the verge of falling through, I find myself reaching for this little piece of home.

But it’s more than just a reminder of Love Beach. It’s a reminder of Crystal—her artistry, her passion, the way she sees beauty in the world and manages to translate it into something tangible. Something you can hold onto even when you’re halfway around the world.

As I stare at the swirling colors, I’m struck by how much this tiny mosaic represents. It’s a piece of art, yes, but it’s also a piece of Crystal’s soul. And somehow, without me even realizing it, it’s become a piece of my heart too.

I close my fist around the mosaic, feeling its edges press into my palm. Isn’t it time I stopped running and faced the truth?

With a sudden clarity, I know what I have to do. This trip, these negotiations—they’re important, yes. But not as important as what I’m in danger of losing if I don’t act soon.

I reach for my phone, dialing Javi’s number.

“Javi, I need you to do something for me,” I say the moment he picks up, my mind already racing ahead. “I’m flying back home after my meeting tomorrow.”

---