Page 231 of Titus

I walked through the atrium of Jameston’s building after the lobby receptionist informed me that Christian was still in his office, though his father had been out of the country since last week.

I was sure the old man was somewhere on a yacht, schmoozing investors and convincing himself that he and his son had somehow managed to take down my company by exploiting my father’s bullshit.

I stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the young receptionist. She straightened immediately, and her eyes widened when they met mine.

“I was informed Christian Jameston is in his office,” I said.

“Yes,” she answered. “Allow me to⁠—”

“I’ll show myself in,” I interrupted, walking toward the double doors and shoving them open.

Christian glanced up from the desk where he’d been drinking a scotch while going through something on his laptop.

“Hawk?” he said, surprised. “I thought I told you to stay away from my building?”

“Yeah, I remember that,” I said, walking toward the bar in the corner of his office. “Well, my security saw fit to have your security allow me to enter the building.”

“What?”

“Your security couldn’t stop mine,” I stated directly. “And surprise… I’m here.”

“Surprise?” he said with disgust.

“Yeah, you know, that fun little game where something happens you’re not expecting? Hell, I’m very well aware of it, especially after federal agents arrested me. I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, that’s⁠—”

“A conversation for later? Sure,” I said, walking to the bar next to his desk. “But right now…” I reached for the bottle sitting beside the crystal decanter and held it up. I looked at the label, then looked at him. “Woodford Reserve?”

No response.

“Tsk, tsk,” I said with a smile. “If you want to play with the big boys, Jameston, everyone knows you have to drink something that requires a waiting list.” The corner of my mouth lifted. “This?” I looked at the bottle again. “This says you still have something to prove.”

I set the bottle down as Christian stared at me.

“God, you’re an arrogant bastard,” he finally said.

I poured myself a drink. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I heard you were released,” he said, colder now.

I walked over to the leather chair across from his desk and sat. I took a sip while staring at the man who watched every move I made.

“Yes,” I finally spoke. “As of this afternoon, the federal government no longer considers me a subject or target of its investigation.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, right. How could you know what legal terms mean? You spend millions to hire assholes to handle that for you,” I said, finishing my sip quickly. “It means I walk out of this a free man.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

I fixed my eyes on him, taking a slow sip of the bourbon. “In this business, I’ve made plenty of enemies.” I leaned forward and rested both elbows on my knees. “But none have made it their obsession to spend millions digging into my company.”

“And?”

I could easily hear he was nervous.

I sat back again and brought the bourbon to my lips. “I want to know why,” I said, finishing with a sip. “Why you hired investigators? Why you dug through my company, my family, my entire goddamn life?”