Page 116 of Titus

I slowly crossed my arms. “Did you come here to insult me professionally again, or are we building toward something new today?”

A faint laugh escaped him.

“I’m trying to understand why a woman like you suddenly seems comfortable narrowing your world for other people.”

“That’s none of your business. What are you doing in my office without an appointment?”

The man eyed my phone as soon as it vibrated again, and the message read Titus.

Jesus Christ.

“Hawk?” he asked flatly. “What does that man need with a planner who’s not going overseas this summer?”

I looked back up at him calmly. “Was there something else you needed?”

His jaw tightened again.

“You should be careful with men like him, Catalina.”

I almost smiled.

“Do not act as though I’m someone you need to give advice to, Mr. Jameston,” I said. “Now, I have to get back to work, and you don’t have an appointment that requires me to listen to any of this.”

“You’re a spicy little thing, aren’t you?”

“If you don’t leave,” I answered, pissed off beyond belief that this man had the nerve to treat me this way, “I will have security remove you.”

“I own the building, Catalina.”

The calm arrogance in that statement made my skin crawl.

I slowly stood from my chair. “Then I’ll be terminating my lease.”

That wiped the amusement from his face.

“You’d really move your entire company over one conversation?”

“No,” I answered calmly, grabbing the phone from my desk. “I’d move it because I don’t tolerate men who mistake access for control.”

I stared straight-faced at him, resisting the overwhelming urge to knee him in the balls for forcing my hand into even considering this decision. Fucking piece of shit.

I needed to get out of this office and clear my head. I couldn’t make rash decisions when my team was already struggling to adjust to the new location, especially since we weren’t traveling overseas for work this summer.

But the rage stinging my eyes made one thing painfully clear—I would not be able to tolerate working in a space where that man felt comfortable freely coming and going from my office.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The drive through the hills outside Madrid took nearly forty minutes. Forty minutes of city lights fading behind us as old estates and iron gates replaced modern skyscrapers across the Spanish countryside.

I sat in the back of the Rolls, scrolling absently through acquisition reports on my tablet while Wyatt finished a phone call beside me.

Rain from earlier still clung to the windows, distorting the passing lights outside into streaks of gold against the dark glass.

“Tell me again why we’re going to this?” I asked without looking up.

“Because old European money enjoys pretending that dinner parties still control global markets.”

I rolled my eyes. Why did three weeks overseas feel like twelve months on this trip?