Page 21 of Titus

Jameston knew it was me who made the offer. Even with the holding company, the cover name, and all the layers meant to conceal it, he knew. The dick was an idiot in business, to be sure, but even so, I knew he wouldn’t accept a buyout from me outright. That’s why I structured it the way I did, with a different name and a foreign company. Something he’d be tempted to grab if he thought it gave him a faster way up the ladder in this territory.

Instead? He declined. It was like he already knew the angle I was playing. And that meant the offer hadn’t just been rejected, it had been anticipated.

That shifted things. I didn’t appreciate being forced into reacting. I didn’t appreciate assholes like this. It wasn’t finished yet, though. I planned to dig deeper and determine why these fuckers were out here.

By the time I stepped into my dressing room, my charcoal suit had already been laid out. As with all my suits, it was sharp and tailored to precision, without excess.

I dressed without rushing, each movement deliberate. I buttoned my shirt, adjusted my cuffs, and slid my watch into place as the final detail fell into place. Control wasn’t something I turned on; it was something I maintained.

And this morning? I needed that innate talent.

The scent of coffee met me as I stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mr. Hawk,” my chef greeted, already plating breakfast.

I nodded and offered Edward a smile of approval for the egg whites, avocado, and black coffee. My morning fuel and nothing more.

I took a seat at the marble island, scanning the tablet beside my plate. Market updates. Developments. Timelines. Everything was moving exactly as it should.

Until I was reminded that everything wasn’t. My eyes returned to the line in the email my brother Wyatt called me about last night.

Jameston Holdings: Offer declined

What is this bastard really up to? I thought as I finished my coffee slowly, letting the weight of his decision settle.

He wasn’t playing for money. He was playing for position.

“Your helicopter is ready,” my house manager said from just beyond the kitchen. “The pilot is awaiting your departure.”

“Thank you, Lucas,” I said as I set down my coffee mug so I could gather my things.

The flight into Los Angeles gave me plenty of time to think. By the time my Rolls pulled up to Hawk Enterprise, I’d already decided Jameston declining my offer wasn’t the issue. I wanted to know why the Jamestons had anticipated my move.

The atmosphere on the executive floor was noticeably different the moment I stepped out of the elevator. On the top floors of my building, everything was quieter and sharper, with more intention than on the lower floors.

My office sat beyond a set of glass doors at the end of the corridor, but I didn’t make it that far before my receptionist was already on her feet.

“Elizabeth,” I greeted her with a nod.

“Good morning, Mr. Hawk,” she said, her tablet already in hand.

She’d relocated from New York with me because she was efficient, unflappable, and understood that unnecessary conversation wasted time.

“Colton is waiting in your office,” she said. “And the holding company confirmed the offer was declined without review.”

“No interruptions.”

“Understood, Mr. Hawk.”

The glass doors opened seamlessly as I approached, and just like that, I was exactly where I needed to be. They sealed quietly behind me as I stepped inside, Newport stretching out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Colton sat angled slightly in one of the chairs across from my desk, tablet in hand, already halfway through whatever report had his attention.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

“I’m on time,” I replied, setting my jacket over the back of the chair before crossing toward the window.

He smirked faintly. “Same difference in your world.”

He wasn’t wrong. We were different in that way. In Colton’s world, on time meant late. In my world, time bent to my will.