Page 69 of The Malibu Destiny

Round three. My muscles burn, but I find something primal inside me. I feint left, then slam a right cross that connects with a satisfying thud. The buzzer wails. Final score: 6-5, my favor. I raise my taped fists as my chest heaves, utterly spent but triumphant. Half a million dollars for breast cancer research. Worth every bruise.

After the match, I towel off, throw on fresh clothes, and head out to find Lilith and my family waiting in the main part of the arena, by the glass entrance doors. And—Serafina? Didn't spot her in the crowd earlier. I slide my arm around Lilith's waist while my brothers circle me with backslaps and congratulations.

When I catch my father's eye, something unexpected happens—I step forward and hug him. We've been reconnecting since his pacemaker surgery, both of us hoping that little metal guardian keeps another cardiac episode at bay. Something clicked for me recently. The way Lilith breathes life into my world, makes everything brighter—Mom must have done that for him. Losing her stole his air, left him fumbling in darkness. I get it now. If Lilith vanished from my life? Christ. I'd be worse than the monster I was before I met her.

Serafina comes up to me after I’m done hugging my father. “Congratulations, Roman,” she says. “You did fantastic out there.”

I nod at Sera. "Thanks." My voice comes out even, neutral. A month ago, I would've brushed past her without a word, but lately, things have shifted. Dad and I managed a whole dinner without raising our voices last week. And waking up next to Lilith each morning feels like the anchor I never knew I needed.

"Can I talk to you?" Sera gestures toward the exit, where the crowd streams out into the night.

"Sure." I turn to Lilith, press my lips to her cheek, breathe in that hint of sandalwood she always carries. "Be back in a few minutes."

Lilith's smile reaches her eyes—that calm, knowing look that tells me she's not worried. And why would she be? Next to Lilith's quiet fire, Sera is just... background noise.

I follow Sera into the night, the night chill raising goosebumps on my arms. "What's up?" December's here, and with it comes the Winter Solstice—not Christmas, mind you, but the actual Solstice. Funny how I've adopted Lilith's vocabulary. My phone buzzes with her latest text: elaborate plans for honoring the Sun God's return instead of Christ's birth. She wants us to light a yule log, feast together, and tell ancient tales of the Oak and Holly Kings. There's even this ritual called Wassailing where we'll pour spiced cider on saplings and serenade them for good health.

Six months ago, I'd have rolled my eyes at all this. Now? I'm actually looking forward to it. Picking up mulled cider on the way home. Besides the tree-blessing part, it's not so different from the Christmas traditions I grew up with anyway.

A part of me wants to Google the whole Winter Solstice thing to see if any of it makes scientific sense. But I've seen how Lilith's eyes light up when she talks about these rituals. So I'll nod, I'll participate, I'll respect what matters to her—even if I can't bring myself to believe.

Sera clears her throat. "Well, Roman, I was wondering about Lilith. I hear you're pretty serious about her."

"I am. Why?"

She shrugs. "Well, I'm wondering if you don't know how it looks to the outside world for you to be dating a witch."

I burst out laughing at her characterization of Lilith as a witch. That's not accurate at all. Lilith doesn't even identify as Wiccan. She simply embraces alternative spiritual practices. Her beliefs involve tarot readings, goddess worship, crystal healing, Reiki energy work, and aura perception. She celebrates the same holidays everyone else does—Christmas, Halloween, Easter—just under their traditional names: Winter Solstice instead of Christmas, Samhain instead of Halloween, and Spring Equinox instead of Easter. In many ways, her approach is more authentic than most people's. She honors the ancient Celtic Druid traditions that gave these celebrations their original purpose—Winter Solstice marking the sun's rebirth and longer days ahead, Spring Equinox celebrating the earth's renewal after winter's dormancy.

I roll my eyes. "Come on, Sera. Lilith isn't brewing potions at midnight. She's just into alternative spirituality."

Sera leans forward and raises an eyebrow. "Listen, Roman. Modern witches don't fly on broomsticks. They burn sage, collect crystals, read tarot cards, and commune with nature—exactly like your precious Lilith." She smirks. "Though the way you've been following her around like a lovesick puppy, maybe she does have magical powers after all."

I cross my arms. "Fine." My voice lowers to a growl. "Call her whatever you want. If she’s a witch, she’s my witch, so tread carefully." I narrow my eyes. "And how exactly do you know all this about her?"

"My friend sees her regularly for readings. Lilith doesn't exactly keep her beliefs private. According to my friend, she prays to goddesses, bathes in forests, heals with sound bowls, burns sage everywhere, and owns enough crystals to rival a museum. You can sugarcoat it as 'alternative spirituality' all you want, but everyone else calls it what it is—witchcraft." She gives me a pointed look. "I'm just saying, be careful. Your investors talk, Roman. They might start wondering if you're burning sage in the boardroom next."

I shake my head. "Mind your own business, Sera." Through the doorway, Lilith's laughter rises above the conversation, my brothers leaning in like plants toward sunlight. They're under her spell—though not like me. For them, she's a charming addition to family gatherings. For me, she's essential.

Let the industry gossips whisper about how the cutthroat hotel magnate fell in love with some crystal-loving hippie. In the boardroom, I'm still the same calculated predator who built an empire of luxury properties across four continents. If anything, since Lilith, my deals have gotten sharper. She grounds me, clears the static that used to cloud my judgment.

So Sera can take her concerns about Lilith being "bad for business" and shove them.

Chapter Forty-One

LILITH

I reach across the counter, my bangles jingling against my wrist. "Jack," I say. "Hand me those crystals." My fingers wiggle impatiently as I survey the cluttered shelves.

The afternoon sun streams through the window, painting rainbows across the floor. I've spent the morning making space for my newest finds—red beryl, glowing like liquid fire, and alexandrite that shifts between green, purple and blue depending on the light. I can't wait to display them with my usual collection: amethyst clusters, jasper, tiger's eye, lapis lazuli, quartz points, black tourmaline, citrine, labradorite, selenite wands, and obsidian—glossy black mirrors that remind me of Roman's eyes when he looks at me.

I’m excited to be offering these new stones. The business has been picking up, I’ve been lining up readings at my shop at a brisk pace of at least 5 a day, and I’m still working my side-hustle at the resort, which has padded my bank account, too. That means that I can afford the beautiful Red Beryl and Alexandrite stones, which sell for $1,000 a carat. Such good things have happened for me since Roman came into my life. Such abundance! But I know that I willed it all into existence - my positive thoughts makes energy that attracts like energy from the universe. The law of attraction at work.

I'm humming Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” under my breath as Jack practically dances between the bookshelves, breathlessly detailing his conquest of Angus Phillips, some cater waiter from one of the Hilton Hotels.

Seth—the "Abercrombie & Fitch model" he swore was his soulmate last month—has apparently been kicked to the curb. But the way Jack is graphically oversharing every intimate detail makes it crystal clear Angus isn't The One either. Jack only broadcasts bedroom skills when he's treating someone like a trophy, not a partner.

"God, Lilith, his tongue—that piercing!—holy shit," Jack's eyes roll back dramatically. "The things that metal stud can do should be illegal in at least thirty states. You haven't truly lived until someone with a pierced tongue has made you see actual stars. You should convince Roman to get one immediately."