Page 46 of Dr. Stone
I couldn’t stop the flush creeping up my neck, equal parts awe and discomfort. Because part of me wanted to revel in this—the gowns, the attention, the sheer devotion in his gaze. But another part whispered that I would have been just as floored if Jace had shown up with a simple bouquet of grocery store daisies.
That was the difference. Titus dazzled me. Jace disarmed me.
“Try them both on,” he urged. “The moment we land, I want to see which one makes you glow brighter.”
I brushed the fabric, pretending the silk alone could anchor me in this world. But deep down, I knew if it were Jace standing here, I wouldn’t need silk or jewels to feel like I belonged.
TWENTY-ONE
Jace
Over the last three days,saying I’d had a chance to catch my breath would be a flat-out lie. I spent forty-eight of those hours working back-to-back ER shifts on-call with barely a wink of sleep. The next twenty-four I used trying to recover, only to jump into a twelve-hour workday full of patient appointments, surgery scheduling, and post-op rounds at the hospital.
I just wanted to go home, take out my boat, which I hadn’t seen in weeks, and find my bearings. I still might do that if I could get out of staying too long at my parents’ house tonight.
Unfortunately, my brother Dorian, whom I hardly had a relationship with, was visiting before flying off with my parents to the grand opening of Titus’s exclusive hotel resort in Costa Rica later tonight. So, we were all here, gathered together to pretend we were some picture-perfect family for a couple of hours.
Typically, I could handle these kinds of dysfunctional get-togethers without breaking a sweat, but with exhaustion fromwork and thinking about my girl flying off on Titus’s private jet as his guest of honor? My patience and my mood were shot to hell.
God only knew what tonight would bring.
The iron gates opened with quiet precision, revealing the sun-kissed sprawl of my parents’ Montecito estate. I eased the Aston up the long, palm-lined drive, looking beyond the vibrant green manicured lawns to the ocean sparkling beyond the cliffs like a dazzling sapphire. Everything here was perfectly manicured, controlled, curated, and untouchable. All of it was the personification of Mr. and Mrs. Everett and Victoria Stone.
My parents’ house appeared ahead like some coastal fortress out of a dream. It was covered in whitewashed stone, weathered wood accents, and towering glass that reflected the sky.
My mother had designed every inch of it, down to the imported Italian gravel beneath my tires, and my father had signed the deed in a tux on the night they closed their first billion-dollar acquisition.
This place perfectly embodied the empire my parents built—Aurelian Stone & Air. A legacy of luxury that spanned fleets of mega-yachts and private jets, catering to royalty, tech moguls, and clients who never cared about price, only about discretion.
They named it Aurelian for the gold standard—both literal and symbolic. A nod to Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor my father idolized. “Rule with restraint, but never with doubt,”he’d say like it was his mantra.Stonewas in the name for obvious reasons, but also because our family carried a fuck-ton of weight in this world. AndAirbecause, well, legacy isn’t meant to stay grounded.
There you have it. That’s where I come from, and some might say that’s who Jace Stone really is. But if you asked anyone who actually knew me—outside the circles my family ran in—they’dprobably swear I was adopted into this fuckery most people mistook for a perfect family.
I parked in front of the circular fountain and cut the engine. The house loomed with a commanding presence that was both quiet and majestic. It was almost like it was waiting to assess whether I was here as the son or the next heir. Of course, by the lack of fucks I gave about all this bullshit, the house always understood that I wasnothere as the heir.
That was Dorian’s destiny. I was merely here doing the duties of a son who loved his parents from a distance, only coming around for occasions such as this. God, I hated this lifestyle, and yet, it was built into my DNA.
“Dr. Stone,” Edwin, the family butler since I was a child, greeted me before I could reach the final step to open the door myself, “it’s always my pleasure.”
The man was an eighty-three-year-old dedicated staff member and almost more family to me than my own. “Damn, you look healthier than me these days,” I said. “What’s the secret?”
“Diet and exercise always, young man,” he said with a smile, becoming more casual. “By the looks of it, you are exhausted.”
“It’s been a week, for sure,” I shrugged. “It’s pretty bad when the heart surgeon isn’t as healthy as the man who could be his father.”
“You’re healthy, but you’re overworked. You must be careful with that; stress kills more people than anything else.”
I chuckled, turning to walk through the polished stone atrium with him, “Listen to you, telling me what I just told four of my patients today.”
“You need to live by those words, not just preach them, son,” he said. “Your family is on the terrace taking refreshments before dinner is served.”
“What’s for dinner tonight? Dorian’s here, so I’m sure it’s some fancy meal up to par with his fine-dining lifestyle in Madrid.”
“Chef Laurent has prepared a seven-course menu this evening. Your mother requested to begin with sea urchin custard and Oscietra caviar, followed by?—”
“Skip to the main course, Edwin. We don’t have all day,” I teased. I inwardly rolled my eyes that this was sometimes my life, hence the reason I tried to keep my distance from it as best I could.
“Of course. The wagyu beef has been flown in from Miyazaki, your father’s preference while entertaining his sons this evening, of course.” He eyed me, and I could tell he wanted to continue announcing all the courses.
