Page 1 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)
ONE
Jace
The music was loud, the wind sharp, and the San Diego skyline lit up like it knew it was being watched. Somehow, even the air felt expensive aboard Jake Mitchell’s yacht.
This break from work was exactly what I needed. Three months straight of back-to-back shifts, and now I was finally off-duty—on a yacht, of all places.
Okay, technically it was a medical conference. But when you’re drinking cocktails on a billionaire’s boat, it hardly counts.
Jake, my Chief of Cardiology, had a talent for turning conferences into luxury vacations. It helped that his brother owned Saint John’s Hospital. It helped even more that Jake didn’t give a shit about rules.
Most had already left, the party winding down into something quieter, smoother. I should’ve felt relaxed. But something about the laughter, the drinks, the curated perfection of it all—it didn’t reach me.
Even now, surrounded by old colleagues and beautiful strangers, I felt a step outside of everything. Like I was watching from the edge of the glass.
I’d been running on fumes for months. Picking up shifts. Trading sleep for the OR. Somewhere along the line, life became a cycle of surgery, whiskey, and sleep. In that order.
For a second, I wondered when the last time was I enjoyed something that wasn’t work or whiskey.
Well, tonight was one of those welcomed breaks, and here I sat. I didn’t even know if I had it in me to flirt with any of the attractive women on this yacht.
“Stone,” I heard Dr. Aster say, walking up to where I sat, facing the side rail of the yacht. “Are you intentionally keeping away from everyone tonight?”
I smiled over at John, seeing his eyes glisten with humor.
The man should be in a good mood. He was lucky that his smoke show of a wife, Mickie, was an OBGYN like him, and she was aboard for the medical conference as well.
Both Dr. Asters were getting busy while I was reading medical texts until my eyes crossed.
“I’m intentionally keeping away,” I chuckled and took another sip of the smooth scotch I’d never been more delighted to drink.
I glanced over my shoulder, seeing a blur of strapless dresses, perfectly toned legs, stilettos, and shiny hair blowing in the ocean breeze.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start with all that beauty over there,” I smiled and brought my attention back to where John sat next to me.
He took the cognac a waiter had brought him, sipped it, sighed, then glanced my way, “Already giving up dating, eh?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have any fucking time to date these days, man,” I said honestly. “Everyone keeps bailing out on their damn shifts for one reason or another, and I’m the man to fill in. I don’t even know what dating is anymore,” I laughed at my new fucked-up reality.
“Is he over here bitching about being overworked?” I heard Jake say.
“Never,” John lied for me.
“Hell yeah, I am,” I said, looking directly at my chief’s playful blue eyes. “I know you insisted this conference be aboard the yacht for my personal?—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Jake stopped me by waving his index finger. “This glorious event was most definitely not hosted on my yacht to make up for your bitching and whining, or for you in any way, for that matter.”
I smirked, “Ah, so I shouldn’t expect you to complain when I don’t take the call to come in for one of the other doctor’s shifts?”
“They have names, you know,” Jake added with a hint of dickishness.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I wouldn’t know them since they’re never working,” I shrugged as Jake chuckled. “You know, I was quietly enjoying my evening, sipping on your expensive scotch, and now you two dumbasses show up to interrupt that.”
“That is not his expensive scotch,” John laughed.
“No?” My eyebrows shot up, staring at Jake’s humored eyes.
“No way, dude,” he smirked like the cocky bastard we all knew he was. “ This is my scotch,” he placed a brand-new bottle on the bar that was fashioned into the railing next to where I sat on the yacht’s upper deck.
I pulled the bottle closer, eyeing the label. “Macallan, thirty-year single malt.” I acted unfazed.
My dad was a Macallan man—rich, grumpy, and the kind of bastard who once dropped $2.7 million on a Macallan 1926 at Sotheby’s just to look important. I loved him, but his spending habits were beyond me. Aster could vouch; in old-money circles, even friendship was theater.
I grew up around the Aster brothers, and met Jim and Jake through my dad’s business dealings with their father. I knew every trust fund baby and upstart worth knowing. My dad was a master operator in those upper circles—friends close, enemies closer—so there was no one I didn’t know.
Jim Mitchell, though, was no fool. After taking over his father’s company, he played a harder game of chess than any billionaire I’d ever met, my dad included.
Which was why I had to bust my ass to land a spot at Saint John’s as a cardiologist. Family money didn’t open that door—my parents respected Jim more for making me earn it, and even more after what he and Jake put me through as an intern.
The upside of growing up with these guys?
We had our own bond, our own unspoken rules.
Call it cliquey, but it worked. None of us bragged about our pedigrees or family wealth; we valued skill over flash.
Which was why I rolled my eyes when Jake waved a six-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch under my nose.
“What is this?” I said, eying him. “Are you turning into an old billionaire bastard on me now?”
Jake’s smile broadened. “I was just checking to see if you were,” he said.
“You know, since you’re not over there having your pick of the litter with all those female doctors and their single lady friends.
I figured you’d turned into your dad, and that’s why I was offering you this bottle of scotch since we all know you’re not getting laid anytime soon. ”
I arched my eyebrow at him. “I’m not off my game that hard, buddy,” I countered. “I’m just exhausted from the damn conference and wanted some alone time.”
“Right, like your dad,” John added, sliding the bottle in front of me. “No sex, only scotch for the lonely,” he said with a laugh.
“Meh, I got you that bottle as a gift for picking up the slack around the hospital for me, Jace,” Jake said, acting suddenly serious. “Enjoy it because God knows you couldn’t get a lady these days if you tried.”
I felt my competitive streak urging me to accept this challenge, but I wanted to meet it in a way that would make these two assholes nervous. I turned around on my barstool and nodded toward where I’d noticed three blondes and a brunette batting their eyes in this direction.
No, too easy, I thought, knowing all I had to do was wink, and they’d melt. Sure, I was a cocky son of a bitch, but it felt good to get my head out of medical science for a moment and feel like a young, sexy bachelor who women couldn’t resist.
“I could easily snatch up one of those vixens and take her to bed tonight,” I playfully bantered.
“The brunette?” John asked.
I glanced over at him, “Do you just join in on this shit because you’re married and can’t do it anymore?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I’m happily married, fucker. I just enjoy watching dumbasses like yourself live out the life I thought I’d have until I died.”
“I heard that,” Jake chimed in, raising his glass as if he were toasting this shit show. “It’s always a great time, watching someone else thread the needle of heaven and hell while trying to hook up and not knowing how it all ends. Glad those days are over for me.”
“Right,” I said dryly.
My eyes scanned the area while Jake and John giggled like happily married schoolboys, saying shit I wasn’t even listening to.
Then, my eyes fell on my perfect prey. Like a wolf eyeing the sweetest lamb, I took in her slightly dimpled cheeks and soft, tempting lips that could undo a man in every way that mattered.
Her long, wavy hair caught the light, hints of platinum shimmering through gold, and that strapless dress clung to every curve like it had been sewn on her body.
She was gorgeous, yes, but it was more than that. She radiated something I wanted to strip bare and claim, and tonight, I intended to discover every last bit of it.
But that wasn’t all. What made her the perfect prey was that she was standing in a circle of women who were all off-limits.
Jim Mitchell’s wife, Avery. Jake Mitchell’s wife, Ashley. Spencer Monroe’s wife, Natalia. John Aster’s wife, Mickie. Collin Brooks’ wife, Elena. Sebastian Aster’s fiancée, Darcy, and, last but not least, Alex Grayson’s wife, Breanne.
This was my pick. This was someone sure to light up the gossip mill, and my goal was to be bragged about on the group text string that I knew the First Wives’ club had going on the side.
This was how I’d get back at these assholes for always telling me I sucked in bed and that I was always lying when I said I left any woman I was with wanting more and needing more, only for me to move on to the next.
Everyone was about to know—including myself—just how amazing I was, and with that, I stood up.
“Found your lady, I presume?” Jake questioned with humor.
“Indeed,” I smirked, then turned to walk toward the wives.
I glanced back once after the blonde-haired woman with beautiful green eyes met mine, and I saw the horror and shock on John and Jake’s faces, making it clear I’d made the right call.
In fact, with two more days on this yacht, I might even allow her to have a bonus night of me ravishing her body before she never heard from me again.
I quickly turned away from the men to make my move once I saw the darkened expressions of warning cross their features. From the look in her eyes, I could already tell she was mine, and nothing would stop her from enjoying the fantastic time I was about to give her.
If John and Jake were planning to storm over here to stop this—her or me—they were too late. My adorable, green-eyed lamb and I were already halfway there as our eyes spoke before our mouths did.