Page 41 of Titus

“Your jet is prepared for take-off at the airport, Mr. Hawk,” he said. “Everything is on schedule.”

“Very good,” I answered.

Silence settled in the car as we pulled into traffic, the city moving around me in a blur of motion and noise I barely registered. I reached for my phone. I needed to fix just one item that didn’t feel on schedule. Perhaps that’s why this woman was floating around in my head. I still hadn’t heard from her, and I was quite shocked she hadn’t even followed up about our dinner at my house.

Why wouldn’t this woman have followed up? She knew I was willing to offer her five hundred thousand to secure her. Hell, it’s practically what I offered her just to indulge me in that damn dinner.

Then I realized the nature of the woman I was engaging. Catalina Veléz didn’t chase outcomes; she created them, and that’s what she was doing with her silence.

My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer than it should have. Fuck. I didn’t reach out first. I never did. But this situation required…adjustment. And it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was necessary.

I tapped her contact info on my cell and then paused. After a breath, I set the phone back down beside me.

No. I would not reach out yet. If I reached out now, it would be on her terms. And that wasn’t how this situation was going to work between her and me.

By the time we reached the airport, my decision was already made. If Catalina Veléz wanted to step into my world and maintain control of the dynamic between us, then I would simply shift the environment again.

Because control wasn’t something I lost. It was something I recalibrated.

I stepped out of the car, the jet already on the runway, engines quiet but ready. Everything was in place and exactly as it should be.

Except—my fucking mind was still on her. And this shit was the only variable I hadn’t accounted for. As I climbed the steps to the jet, I pulled out my phone and texted before I could overthink it.

Titus: Clear your schedule this weekend

I stared at the screen for a moment. No greeting for her, no explanation, just my expectation.

After feeling more like myself, I hit send. And damn it if that wasn’t the one thing that suddenly fucked me up in my head, because for the first time in a long time, I found myself waiting to see what someone else would do next.

And now? I wondered whether the woman would even respond to my demands. All the other women seemed to wait for this particular text, but I learned last week that Cat was unlike any other woman I’d ever met.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I looked around the large ballroom, which my team and I had been working on for the last twelve hours. It barely resembled the space we’d started with, which was exactly the point.

Just hours ago, this place had been nothing more than a cold, empty room with neutral walls and standard lighting. It had no personality or presence. But after my team and I worked our magic here, everything breathed luxury.

And it should. Tonight’s event was a fundraiser for Saint John’s Hospital, and given that Jim Mitchell virtually owned the place, I knew exactly how he wanted these events hosted. They had to appeal to the very people he was inviting, and those guests were always encouraged to donate their wealth while they were living and breathing in a room that spoke their language.

I glanced around the area, letting it speak to me in any way it could, to see whether any details had been overlooked. It rarely happened, but there was always a chance… and I never left anything to chance. That’s why I always took a final moment before moving forward with the night’s events.

Soft amber light washed over the space, catching the glass installations suspended above the tables, each positioned just enough off-center to feel intentional rather than staged. As Mr. Mitchell’s events team had emphasized, the florals weren’t overpowering. There were white ranunculus, orchids, and touches of greenery, layered with precision so nothing competed for attention. Everything worked together, each with its own specific purpose.

“Cat, we’ve got a problem with table six,” Aria said, appearing at my side with a clipboard tucked under her arm.

“What kind of problem?” I asked, my gaze already moving across the room, scanning without making it obvious.

“The seating card for Doctor Black’s wife is incorrect.” She eyed me as if this were the first of many problems for the night. “She noticed.”

I exhaled slowly, already stepping in that direction. “Precisely how incorrect is the seating card?”

“Incorrect enough that she’s offended.”

“Of course she was,” I whispered to Aria. “Give me two minutes,” I added, as I reached for the extra place cards in the side console.

The woman in question stood near the table, her posture stiff, her expression tight, as if this wasn’t about the name on the card. Because it never was. I approached her with an easy smile that wasn’t forced or overly apologetic.

“Mrs. Black, please forgive the oversight,” I said smoothly, meeting her gaze. “We’ve had a last-minute seating adjustment, and I wanted to personally make sure you were placed exactly where you’re meant to be.”