Page 39 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)
THIRTY-FOUR
Andie
The last time I stepped foot in this hospital, I wasn’t thinking about glass ceilings or tech innovations. I was thinking about Brandon’s fever, his flushed little cheeks, and the sound of his whimpering in my arms.
He’d had a high fever and double ear infections, and I was one breath away from losing it.
I smiled at the memory of Jace bringing us here that night, and how, after parking the car, he quickly caught up to me as I followed the nurse through the hallways to the patient room they’d opened for my son.
Jace was moving fast but calm, with one hand on the small of my back and the other texting Dr. Brandt before we made it to the room. He didn’t just walk us through the pediatrics ER, he owned the space like it curved around him.
That was all I’d seen then, the fluorescent lights and pediatric vitals, along with a toddler clinging to my chest and exhaustion clinging to my bones. But today was a completely different experience while I walked through the main entrance—the part of Saint John’s I hadn’t seen before.
Holy shit, I thought, taking it all in.
I stood beneath a towering glass atrium stretching five stories above me, staring at holographic coastal images that shimmered in midair beneath a glowing digital sky.
This didn’t feel like any hospital I’d ever been in.
It felt surreal, like I’d stepped into a place that was part futuristic research center and part architectural masterpiece.
Everything around me gleamed and moved with quiet intention.
Even the air felt different—cooler, cleaner, as if it carried a quiet reverence for each human life that entered here seeking to be healed by a professional who was the best at what they did.
This place wasn’t only about healing people; it was about honoring the science that made healing possible.
I followed the signs for Cardiovascular Innovation he was one of the top names on the glass. The young receptionist glanced up with her professional smile in place. “May I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m here to see if Dr. Stone is out to lunch yet?”
“Sure,” she smiled, her eyes studying mine for a moment, then continued. “Let me page him. He just finished a consult and may have already left.”
I inwardly smiled, wondering how many random women had shown up at Jace’s office, hoping to have more with him. The receptionist’s reaction made me think I wasn’t the first to pop in without notice and badger the playboy doctor.
I watched as she tapped something on her touchscreen and gestured toward a set of sliding doors. “You can head through the garden. His office is on the west side of the atrium.”
“The garden?” I said with confusion.
“Yes, right through there,” she smiled and pointed as if all hospitals were like this.
Instead of asking questions or telling the receptionist how blown away I was by this place, I followed her directions, walked through the glass doors that opened with a whoosh, and was met by a soft, floral breeze.
This place was breathtaking, plain and simple. Ash needed to update the gallery to match whatever architectural magic her brother-in-law had conjured for this place.
A lush courtyard stretched between the hospital wings, layered with sculpted stone fountains, exotic flowering trees, and winding mosaic-tiled paths that glittered in the sunlight.
Birds flitted in and out of ivy-draped trellises, and quiet streams of water trickled from bronze spouts into narrow reflecting pools.
It looked more like a luxury resort than a medical facility.
I walked slowly toward the private cardiovascular offices tucked on the far side, holding the small brown bag with the lunch I’d picked up for Jace, and then I saw a brushed-gold plaque.
Private Offices – Cardiothoracic Innovation & Research
Dr. Jace Stone, M.D.
Well, here we are , I thought as I stepped inside.
So much for imagining Jace’s office as a boring room with a desk, some medical certificates, and a few generic heart diagrams on the wall.
Of course, it would mirror the same magic and sophistication I’d walked through in that surreal garden courtyard to get here.
Everything was sleek glass and clean lines. Rich espresso shelves were filled with anatomy texts and intricate 3D models. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with coastal light, and a holographic screen cycled through open-heart surgical techniques like a rotating exhibit of living science.
Then my eyes took in the image of him, Dr. Jace Stone. He stood across the room with his hands in his pockets, a white lab coat on, and a slate-gray shirt rolled at the sleeves. He stood facing the window, focused and still.
I wanted to crack a joke at the dramatics of him standing there like that, in all his perfection and handsomeness, but I bit my tongue and took in the image of what were the first things he’d ever told me about his true personality.
I smiled at the memory of him saying he was a science geek and a book nerd, but I didn’t see that in him at this moment.
I saw a man deep in thought, in command, his mind most likely reeling over a life-saving consultation.
It was intriguing to use this moment to appreciate that Jace was far more than just a man who was amazing in bed and had a history of taking what he wanted from women and leaving without a second thought.
So, this is who you really are, eh? I thought, knowing this was Jace’s world that I’d stepped into.
This was a far cry from the other night of psychotic dogs trying to rip his balls off and my son screaming in fear as if the house were on fire.
I grinned at how different he seemed now.
I’d seen Titus in his world with all the lavish jets and resorts, and now, I saw Jace in his…
and damn, this man was more attractive now than he was before.
I could see that the genuine side of Jace was all precision, discipline, and genius. But the moment he turned and saw me, all of it—everything cold and clinical—melted with his smile.
“Hey, gorgeous. How did you know it was my lunch time?” he questioned, eying the bag I held in my hand.
“I work with your boss’s wife, remember?
She needed me to run some errands in the city and thought I should stop by to surprise you.
It sounded like the perfect opportunity, especially after the rough day you had in surgery when we had to postpone our lunch date the other day.
” I held up the paper bag. “I brought you lunch.”
“All you needed was to bring yourself,” he said with a playful expression.
He crossed the office in three long strides, took the bag from my hands, and cupped my jaw as he leaned in to kiss me.
It was slow and soft, like I’d made his day without trying.
He slowly pulled away and brushed my nose with the tip of his finger, “Thanks for bringing lunch. I’m starved. ”
“This hospital is beyond me,” I said, following him across his office to sit on a leather sofa against the side wall. “I feel like I’m in some futuristic medical facility from Star Trek.”
“You haven’t been here before?” he asked.
“I haven’t been to the enchanting part, I guess. I’ve only been to the ER in pediatrics on our first date, remember?”
He smirked, pulling out the two turkey and avocado sandwiches I’d bought from the bakery where Ash and I frequently ate lunch.
“Well, you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg in the pediatric ward,” he said, taking a huge bite of the sandwich like he hadn’t eaten all day.
“What I saw was nothing like this, but that could be because we snuck my kid in through the back doors to be seen by Dr. Brandt.”
“I need to take you over there when I’m not stacked with patients next time,” he said, devouring his sandwich.
“That amazing, huh?” I said, finally getting to my sandwich.
“Oh, my God, yes. You wouldn’t believe it,” he said, bringing a napkin to his lips. “Sometimes when it gets slow, or we’re cross-referencing charts with Brandt and his staff, we’ll play football in the holographic arena with Brandt’s residential patients who are undergoing treatments.”
“Football?” I laughed.
“Not just football, gorgeous,” he said with a smile, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek.
“ Holographic football.” He arched a playful, challenging eyebrow.
“There’s a kid over there—twelve years old, fighting leukemia like a total champ.
His name’s Travis, and his favorite thing is when we chumps try to get out there and play with the kids.
” He chuckled at the memory. “The kid kicks our asses every time, even Brandt, who used to be a goddamn star quarterback in college.”
“That’s something I’d like to see,” I teased.
“I wish I didn’t have a jam-packed schedule today. I would’ve gladly shown you Travis handing us our asses,” he grinned.
“It’s sad to hear about his condition, though. It’s got to be pretty rough to be a hospital resident,” I said, my heart bleeding for the child and his parents.
“He’s got the best pediatric doc in the world with Cameron Brandt,” Jace said, becoming more serious. “And that kid is a fucking fighter. There’s no way his disease is going to beat him.”