Page 72 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

A first look into the first standalone book in the sister series to the Billionaires’ Club…

The Hawk Dynasty series follows three powerful, sinfully sexy Spanish billionaire brothers—men who rule empires, command boardrooms, and bend the world to their will.

But when the women they never saw coming crash into their lives, they’ll discover that money can build kingdoms…

but only love has the power to bring them to their knees.

Sneak peek into the first book: TITUS below.

Introduction

Catalina “Cat”

Being in control was my oxygen. When the world tilted toward chaos, I didn’t panic—I shifted the lighting, rewrote the schedule, and made the champagne arrive early.

That’s how you survive as L.A.’s most in-demand private event architect.

I wasn’t a planner. Planners wear headsets and cry when clients show up unannounced.

I was the woman billionaires called when they wanted to launch a superyacht, shut down a Beverly Hills street, or impress a crown prince without looking like they were trying.

I don’t fall apart. I don’t flinch. And I sure as hell never flirt with my clients. More importantly, I never lose.

My office, Veléz Global, sat above a minimalist flower boutique off Melrose—an address that reeked of cash and scandal.

From my corner window, I could see the Pacific blur into haze.

Inside, my team ran like a war room: rearranging seating charts so a third wife didn’t end up beside the second; handling crises like oxygen and thriving because of it.

Every morning started the same: inbox check. If an emergency waited, my only response was “Handled.” And it was.

Being an Elite Event Architect and Estate Director wasn’t just a title—it was my reputation.

I orchestrated everything between international galas, megayacht launches, and billionaire estates.

Basically, I handled what the ultra-wealthy couldn’t.

It was my passion, my purpose, and I loved every second of it.

Raised by a single mother who cooked for Spanish elites, I effortlessly knew my way around this world and the people in it.

Growing up with her, I learned how to move through power without losing myself.

Which is why I lived for nights like tonight—where my team hummed and perfection felt within reach.

We were staging a twenty-five-million-dollar launch party for a Saudi billionaire’s tech fund. Flawless wasn’t optional—it was expected. And right now, I was where I thrived—hovering at the edge of perfection, daring it to break, knowing I’d catch it before anyone else saw the crack.

“Ten-minute mark. Wrap sound checks,” I ordered, eyes cutting across the rooftop, noting the crystal glassware, three thousand imported white roses, and the lighting synced to the sunset. Perfection hovered, but it was never guaranteed.

“Already synced,” Marcus replied in my ear.

“The floral wall symmetry is slipping,” Aria panicked. “It’s whispering elegance when it should be screaming seduction.”

“Two inches left, honey,” I smiled over at her. “And breathe.” I finished with a wink.

“Breathing is for mortals,” she muttered.

Inside, Jules greeted royalty like a maestro. “Prince Kareem, your table faces east. The lighting is exactly as you prefer.” His million-dollar smile said it all.

Lena’s voice hit my earpiece. “Veléz, we’ve got a situation. Mr. Hawk’s here.”

“Titus Hawk?” My hand tightened around my tablet.

“Yes. And no, he’s not on the RSVP list.”

Of course he wasn’t. Men like Titus didn’t RSVP. The world rearranged itself when they arrived.

I didn’t need to scan the rooftop to know where he was—the ripple in the crowd gave him away.

Then I saw him. Broad shoulders in a black tux cut within an inch of its life.

Dark hair, perfectly disheveled. A face that belonged carved into stone in some forgotten Spanish cathedral.

And those eyes—amber, sharp, alive with calculation.

Titus Hawk didn’t just walk into rooms. He tested their foundations, claimed their oxygen, and made everyone else smaller for daring to breathe it.

And now he was walking into my event.

His gaze cut through the glittering rooftop and locked on me. Assessing. Cold. The kind of look that had CEOs stammering, governments bending, and entire boards selling their souls.

Even under his stare, I didn’t falter. I never did. Not even with a man like Titus Hawk.

“Ignore Mr. Hawk,” I told Lena, checking off.

“Unauthorized drone northeast,” Noah crackled through my earpiece.

“Disable it.”

“Got it. Jamming now.”

The rooftop steadied again, sliding toward its purpose: wealth pretending to support wealth.

“Floral wall’s fixed,” Aria sang. “Practically moaning seduction.”

“Good. Let it moan. Everything’s on schedule.”

And as if the night obeyed me, the lights shifted, music swelled, and the doors opened.

Game time.

Titus

From forty-three stories up, Monaco almost looked civilized. Just polished lights on the water, stripped of the chaos below.

But tonight wasn’t about the view. Tonight was a chessboard. My chessboard.

The rotor wash faded as I stepped off my helicopter onto teak. My yacht—the Eterna —rose from the slip like a crowned jewel. Forty decks of glass and steel, cut to command reverence. She was never built to blend in—she was built to dominate.

Which is why I chose her for tonight. This wasn’t a party. It was a declaration. Hawk Global never merged. We absorbed. We conquered. And every billionaire boarding tonight was a piece on my board.

As I walked her length, I felt her greet me: marble floors vibrating under my stride, chandeliers glittering like they bowed in acknowledgment. The Eterna was unmatched, my billion-dollar war cry carved against the sea.

The satisfaction settled in my chest…until movement caught me.

A woman. Spanish beauty. Black silk dress, authority humming off her in sharp, precise lines. No headset. She moved with a command strong enough to make my crew obey like she owned them.

Catalina Veléz.

I remembered her from Beverly Hills, orchestrating Kareem’s rooftop launch with surgical precision, fire in her eyes, ice in her veins. I hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly not on my yacht.

Yet here she was. Acting like my yacht was hers.

She approached, fire still in her gaze. “Mr. Hawk. You’re late,” she said, flat as a blade.

I narrowed my eyes. “You speak as though you’re in charge.”

“I am. Your team called after the first coordinator botched it. So, I’m here to fix your mess—and I don’t need your permission to do it.”

Her counter was pure defiance, no fear. Men twice her size knew better than to talk to me that way.

“I don’t recall approving any change,” I said evenly.

“That’s an issue to take up with your team,” she shot back, folding her tablet like a shield. “I’m here to replace incompetence. And you’re standing here on schedule because I made sure of it—even if you chose to show up late.”

A slow smile tugged at my mouth. “Bold.”

“Accurate.”

I stepped closer, voice low. “Careful, carino. People in this world don’t last long when they forget who they’re speaking to.”

She didn’t blink. “And yet, here I am. Still standing. Still in charge.”

My eyes raked her. “Perhaps you don’t know who I am.”

“I know exactly who you are,” she cut in, cool as ice. “It’s you who doesn’t know who I am, Mr. Hawk. Without me, your captain would’ve docked the Eterna in the shadows. Your grand entrance? Wasted. All because you were late.”

I smiled—turned on by this Spanish beauty who rolled her eyes where powerful men feared me.

“If I choose to be late, Miss Veléz, that’s by design. An illusion I prefer to create.”

“And if I choose to salvage your illusion, that’s by design too,” she fired back. “Your photographers got their perfect shot before the crowd swallowed your entrance. You’re welcome.”

I laughed low. “You’ve got nerve, mi amiga.”

“No. I have standards.”

“Well then…” I let the words drag. “Let’s see if you can keep them.”

I moved past her, reclaiming my yacht, but my brothers were already circling.

“Since when do you let someone else run point?” Wyatt said with humor.

Colton smirked. “Since she walked onboard. Didn’t even blink at your presence, man.”

I ignored them—brothers, both a blessing and a curse.

Spencer Monroe lifted his glass. “Mitchell said Veléz doesn’t tolerate bullshit. Looks like he was right. Smart move bringing her in.”

“I didn’t put her on this,” I snapped. “My team did.”

“Smartest thing they’ve done all year,” Spence said, drifting off.

I turned back—and there she was again. Folding herself into my empire like she belonged.

Colton clapped my shoulder. “Careful. You look like a man watching instead of ruling. Dangerous in this crowd.”

“Since when do you let a woman tell you where to dock your yacht?” Wyatt added with a laugh.

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, I hadn’t looked away since she opened her mouth. Catalina Veléz wasn’t just commanding my crew—she was commanding me.

And that was a problem.

I didn’t tolerate rivals. I removed them.

But this woman?

This Spanish beauty with eyes sharp as obsidian and a voice that dared to challenge me on my own yacht?

She wasn’t a rival.

She was something else.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t know if I wanted to crush the fire out of her—or step closer and watch it burn.