Page 54 of The Malibu Destiny

She might not even be at Mystic Tides yet—might still be on the winding coastal drive back from Big Sur. But I need to see her. Need to hear her voice, before I lose my goddamn mind.

The great Roman Kensington, racing through the streets because some tarot-reading hippie hasn't called him in a month. My brothers would never let me live this down.

Chapter Thirty-One

LILITH

Jack leans against the counter as I unlock the store Monday morning. "So? Big Sur? Spill."

I smile, still feeling the lingering peace from my impromptu two weeks away. LA's version of nature—the manicured paths of Griffith Park, the carefully arranged stones in the Van Nuys Japanese Garden—had started to feel like museum exhibits of the outdoors. Big Sur was different. There, the redwoods don't just grow; they command. Waves don't just roll in; they explode against ancient rocks. Waterfalls don't trickle; they plunge straight into the churning Pacific. A week there and I'd remembered what wildness actually feels like.

“Oh, Jack,” I say. “There’s nothing like Big Sur. I actually was in nature up there. I can’t describe the peacefulness I felt in seeing those trees. Trees that have been around since the birth of Christ. Can you imagine them back then? Just little tiny sprouts, determined to grow? And then at some point, they become little twigs. And now they’re two hundred feet tall and blanket that forest into darkness. The things they’ve seen…and I felt the universe talking to me in that forest. And in the surf. It all just felt so untouched.”

“And the retreat itself?”

“It was wonderful. It was one full week of mindfulness meditation practice. And then one week of ancient wisdom practices and how to incorporate them into our daily life. I never felt more at peace than I did there.”

Jack nods. “Well, Lilith, I-”

The shop bell chimes. I glance up and freeze. Roman. Standing in my doorway, backlit by afternoon sun. My pulse quickens instantly. We haven't spoken since the Blake incident weeks ago, but something's different about him. His energy has shifted—his aura is not the stormy black cloud I'd grown accustomed to, nor the fierce crimson intensity, but something warmer, more balanced. Orange. Creative. Thoughtful. Emotionally centered. I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.

“Lilith,” he says gently.

"Rome," I say, staring at the oak floors under my bare feet, my toes curling against the smooth wood. My face grows hot. My heart pounds like it did when I was sixteen in Ms. Harmon's biology class, drawing star signs instead of labeling frog parts. I can almost smell the chemicals again, feel my heavy thrift-store skirt with the little mirrors I'd sewn on it, hear people whispering about my purple-streaked hair that hung to my waist.

Roman would've been the popular guy back then—wearing his sports jacket over wide shoulders, walking confidently through hallways as other students moved aside, wearing a crown at the dance while I stayed home reading cards.

I shake my head, my amethyst earrings swinging against my neck. That old insecurity still follows me—the feeling I don't belong around rich boys in expensive suits. High school never really ends, does it? The feeling clings to me like the sandalwood scent that fills my shop. And now here's Roman, standing between my bundles of sage and old spell books, the incense smoke wrapping around him as if I'd planned it that way all along.

Roman shifts his weight from one Italian leather shoe to the other. "Uh," he says, his jaw working. The man who commands a billion-dollar empire can't string two words together in my little shop. "Lil, I⁠—"

"It's okay," I say softly. The dark cloud that usually surrounds him has lightened, no longer the threatening storm that once made me fear he'd roundhouse kick Blake into next Tuesday. I can breathe easier now, even if I'm not quite ready to trust the calm.

“You know how we talked about my father designing that eco-friendly resort?” he finally manages. I nod, remembering that conversation. “I’ve started incorporating elements at Verde,” he says. His eyes find mine, unexpectedly vulnerable. "Sustainable materials, solar arrays, rainwater collection—the whole package. I thought... with your connection to nature... maybe you'd want to see the plans?"

I nod, inhaling the scent of sage from a nearby bundle. He stands perfectly still, hands in his pockets, but I sense the wildness beneath his tailored suit—a tiger temporarily at rest. Will we end up back where we started, with him snarling at any man who glances my way?

“Sure,” I say. “I don’t have any more readings scheduled for today. They were all this morning.”

He nods. “You haven’t been at the resort lately.”

“I haven’t. I’ve been away. In Big Sur.”

“Right,” he says shyly. “Well, if you don’t have any readings, would you like to come to the resort to see the changes?”

I smile. “Let’s go.”

We get in Roman's car—his Range Rover, which has a handle inside so I can get out of it easily, thank God—and the engine roars to life like a caged beast.

"Lilith," he says, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. "I'm really sorry about Blake."

I dig my nails into my palm. "Are you apologizing for kicking him and losing your temper?"

He slams his fist against the dashboard. "Yes, that. And for not trusting you."

My pulse quickens. That's what I needed to hear. The violence isn't what burns me—it's what it reveals: his refusal to trust me. The fact he sees it now makes my blood sing.

I lean in, close enough to feel his heat. "And why don't you trust me? What have I ever done to make you think I'm not to be trusted?"