Page 16 of Titus

“Before you two eat each other alive and waste your energy sparring,” Jim interrupted, “I think I’ll have the men join me at the bar so we can discuss where our focus truly needs to be.”

I rose, welcoming the break from the woman who was irritating me almost as much as she intrigued me.

Spencer clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve never seen a woman throw you off your game quite like that.”

“She charged me half a million dollars to run one event,” I muttered. “I’d call that throwing anyone off.”

Colton laughed. “She also saved your ass in Monaco.”

“I’ve already acknowledged that.”

“No,” Colton corrected. “You acknowledged the event succeeded. That’s not the same thing.”

Jim took a slow sip of his bourbon. “Whether you like it or not, Cat has a reputation that commands those fees.”

I looked at him. “She’s not here because she’s working tonight,” he continued. “She’s here because she’s one of Jameston’s tenants. This welcome gala is for the businesses leasing in the building.”

Jim set his bourbon on the bar.

“Cat isn’t what concerns me tonight,” he said, eyes shifting toward the opposite side of the ballroom.

“Christian Jameston,” I said when I followed Jim’s line of sight.

His father, Lowell Jameston, stood near the ballroom entrance, shaking hands and smiling for photographers.

Christian lingered a few feet behind him.

“What about his old man Lowell?” I asked. “Should he be a concern as well?”

Jim barely glanced over. “Lowell?” He almost smiled. “My father buried Lowell thirty years ago.”

“I don’t think Jim’s lost a minute of sleep over that man since,” Spencer confirmed.

Jim took another sip of bourbon. “Howard Mitchell and Collin’s father made sure Lowell learned exactly what happens when you try to muscle into Southern California.”

“So he’s not a threat?” Colton asked.

Jim shook his head. “No.” His gaze settled on Christian instead. “The father’s trying to relive the past. The son’s trying to rewrite it.”

That made me look at Christian differently.

“He’s the one rebuilding the brokerage,” Jim continued, “and he’s young enough to convince himself he can succeed where his father couldn’t.”

Spencer folded his arms. “Overconfidence usually makes people careless.”

Jim nodded once. “Exactly.”

I studied Christian as he laughed with a group of investors. “Have we looked into him?”

“Not enough,” Jim admitted. “But we will.”

Christian looked across the ballroom as though he already knew we were talking about him. Our eyes met, and he smiled. Not politely. Deliberately.

“Well…” Jim said as he finished his bourbon. “I suppose our evening just became more interesting.”

“Indeed,” Spencer said as Christian approached.

The kid had grown up to be good-looking, despite the braces and the acne that I was sure would scar him for life.