Page 117 of Titus

I glanced back at the screen before locking the tablet. Tomorrow’s board meeting would include my announcement that we were selling the underperforming Milan hospitality division. Tonight, though, I just needed to survive another evening of bullshit.

Truthfully, I couldn’t focus on anything. Not on numbers, negotiations, or the hospitality acquisition currently bleeding money across three countries.

And why? Simple. My attention kept drifting back to California. Back to Catalina. It was equally annoying and thrilling how completely she’d captured my attention.

None of it made sense. Somehow, Catalina Veléz had become both the quietest and loudest part of my life at the same time.

The estate finally came into view through towering cypress trees moments later. Massive stone architecture sat overlooking Madrid from the hills, while warm lighting illuminated fountains, terraces, and luxury cars filling the circular drive.

It was all old money, not flashy, and most certainly not American. It was the kind of wealth that existed long before people started posting pictures of private jets online for attention.

A valet opened my door the moment the Rolls Royce stopped. I stepped out, buttoning my suit jacket as music drifted through the warm Spanish night. Guests in black tie moved between terraces, crystal glasses catching the glow of hanging lights.

It was a beautiful evening, which was completely wasted on me because all I could think about was how Catalina would’ve been here to organize the event if she hadn’t stayed in California.

I didn’t want to imagine her here working the event, though. I wanted her on my arm as a guest attending this party. Somehow, even imagining her at my side made the entire night feel more bearable.

“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt muttered beside me while adjusting his cufflinks. “Where the hell has your mind been this entire trip?”

I glanced toward him, “You sound observant tonight.”

“I know it’s not on that woman,” he smirked, “but then again, maybe the impossible has happened and there is one thing in this world that can take your mind off of running this damn business.”

“Perhaps it is,” I answered, “perhaps it’s not. I’m just growing tired of this trip.”

“You’ve looked annoyed since we left the office.”

Annoyed was certainly the right word for this feeling. Annoyed that a woman thousands of miles away somehow occupied more space in my head than the billion-euro negotiations happening tonight.

The second we entered the estate, conversations subtly shifted. I wasn’t surprised. I always arrived late to demand this reaction whenever I was attending an event.

Including my own.

A feint smile touched my lips recalling the night Cat was on my yacht, pissed off that I arrived strategically late.

What Cat didn’t know—but I did—was that people noticed power before introductions were ever made. Investors straightened, executives quickened their pace, and women watched in awe. In my world, everything was strategic and everything served a purpose.

However, I’d spent years becoming numb to it.

A server handed me a bourbon as wealthy guests filled the massive open-air terrace overlooking Madrid below.

The usual laughter, music, perfume, and money all held zero interest for me tonight.

“Titus Hawk.”

I recognized the voice instantly before turning. Isabella Moretti approached in a black silk gown with dark hair falling over one bare shoulder while confidence moved through her body like second nature.

She was a young Italian heiress who was heavily involved in her family’s winery business. She was a woman who defined beauty, the kind men wrote songs about and ruined marriages over.

She stopped directly in front of me before kissing my cheek lightly. “There you are,” she smiled. “Half of Madrid thought you disappeared.”

“Unfortunately not.”

A laugh escaped her softly while her eyes diverted to Wyatt to see if everything was okay with me.

Six months ago, I would’ve taken her upstairs before dessert. But now? I felt absolutely nothing standing in front of her except exhaustion.

“You look terrible tonight,” Isabella observed casually while studying me closer.