Page 3 of Titus

“Yes,” Cat gestured toward the lower deck. “The private lounge was cleared for your delegation the moment your security chief requested additional privacy.”

Petrov frowned. “That is not what I was told.”

“That’s because your security chief was still arguing about docking clearance while the decision was made.”

I watched as a few nearby investors smirked, and Petrov’s jaw tightened.

“You are interrupting a private matter,” he sneered.

Cat didn’t blink. “Respectfully,” she said calmly, “it stopped being private the moment you began shouting.”

Wyatt coughed behind me as Petrov stepped closer to her.

He was a large man who was overly accustomed to intimidating everyone he encountered.

Except for this woman, obviously. Cat didn’t move or so much as bat an eye as he encroached on her personal space. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying and evaluating him.

“If you’d prefer,” she finally said, “I can have the helicopter prepared so you can leave immediately.”

The surrounding investors froze, and Petrov only blinked in response.

“No one here will blame you. Negotiations clearly make you uncomfortable,” Cat continued smoothly.

The deck was so damn quiet that I heard Wyatt choke on his drink as Petrov merely stared at her, processing what had just happened.

She hadn’t just challenged him. She’d suggested he couldn’t handle the deal. And in front of the entire investor group, no less.

In the act of maintaining his dignity and pretending he was in control of the situation that Catalina had effortlessly stripped from him, Petrov slowly straightened his jacket and looked around the deck, realizing everyone was watching.

“Show me the lounge,” he muttered.

Cat gestured toward the stairs. “Right this way.”

I watched as Petrov followed her and her staff toward the stairs leading to the lower decks to preserve his privacy. He held his head high while his entourage trailed flawlessly behind him.

As soon as the man disappeared, the tension dissolved, and conversations resumed. Glasses clinked, and the music drifted softly from the lounge as if the spectacle had never occurred.

It was now forgotten by my guests, but my attention remained fixed on one person: Catalina Veléz. She was already issuing quiet instructions to a server as if she hadn’t just dismantled a billionaire in front of half the global investment community.

Impressive.

Also irritating.

I crossed the deck toward her while she dismissed the server with a small nod before turning and nearly walking straight into me.

Her dark eyes lifted to meet mine once my imposing frame stopped her from proceeding any further. There was no surprise in them and no apology. Just quiet composure.

“Mr. Hawk,” she said smoothly.

Her voice was steady and professional. The woman wasn’t even slightly intimidated.

“You enjoy making enemies on my yacht?” I questioned.

She didn’t blink. “Only the loud ones,” she answered.

Wyatt made a choking sound somewhere behind me.

I ignored him.