Page 37 of Titus

The way he said that line, how his eyes seemed to study me as I sat here next to him… it caught me completely off guard.

“While I understand I’m important,” I said, “I don’t believe I need all the show and the impressions you wish to push on me in order to work for you.”

“You intrigue me,” he said, sitting up, eyes still staring into my soul. “Come,” he rose and extended his hand.

There was no explanation, no elaboration, just a command. My eyes dropped briefly to his outstretched hand. I could’ve refused and stayed exactly where I was. I normally would’ve forced this conversation back into business, where it belonged.

Strangely, I didn’t. It wasn’t because I trusted the man. I think it was more because I wanted to see where this was going. Without reservation, I placed my hand in his and let him help me to my feet. His grip was firm but not lingering, and he released me just as quickly.

“Where are we going?” I asked, falling into step beside him as he led me away from the candlelit table.

“You wanted to understand how I operate,” he replied evenly. “This is part of it.”

His answer didn’t sit right with me, but I didn’t let it stop me from following him to his home. We moved through the open terrace, the sound of the ocean fading slightly as we stepped inside.

The shift was immediate. The warmth, quiet, and the way the space felt were different from the rest of the house. Titus didn’t speak as he led me down a hallway lined with clean architecture and minimal décor, with no clutter or excess.

He stopped in front of a set of double doors, and I didn’t fail to notice the slight hesitation as his hand rested on the door handle.

What the hell is this man up to? I thought as he opened the door.

The room wasn’t what I expected. There was no dramatic lighting and nothing over-the-top in the design. Strangely, it was… quiet. Almost as if the room whispered the reason Titus had it decorated like this instead of screaming it.

Shelves lined one wall with books, awards, and framed documents. Across the room, another wall held photographs, and that’s what caught my attention. Nothing in here was staged or curated for show. Hell, I would imagine this was a room off-limits to house guests, maybe even staff.

I walked with ease to where the portraits hung and let my gaze drift over the images. There was a framed picture of a younger Titus and his brothers. In that photo, an older man stood beside him, looking sharp and commanding.

I didn’t need to ask to determine that this was their dad.

“You wanted to understand me and my business preferences,” Titus said from behind me.

Oddly, his voice was still controlled, but different. It was softer and less performative.

“This is where that starts,” he said.

I turned slightly, watching him now instead of the room. This no longer seemed like a billionaire with a strategy. Well, not entirely, anyway.

I couldn’t nail it down, but I could easily see that this was something else.

“Most people assume everything my brothers and I have was built from nothing,” he continued. “That it was easy to step into this world and dominate it as we have.” I watched him as his gaze briefly shifted to one of the photographs. “It wasn’t.”

I could tell that he was no longer trying to impress me but to make himself and his intentions understood. What caught me off guard was that men like Titus Hawk didn’t explain themselves. They never offered pieces of their past like this, especially to someone they were trusting to plan their events.

I crossed my arms, not defensively, but to ground myself because none of this was making any sense. Unless, of course, Titus wanted more than to hire me tonight, which wasn’t uncommon among wealthy men either. They were used to getting whatever they wanted, and it was all because money seemed to buy everything, including what they envisioned as their own happiness.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Titus’s eyes came back to mine. “Because if you’re going to work for me,” he said, “you need to understand what drives me. You also need to understand why I take everything seriously, down to the last detail. Any planner who works for me must feel as convicted by my business visions as I do.” His expression was severe. “Whether they agree with me or not.”

I exhaled slowly, my gaze drifting back to the photos despite myself. The next image my eyes landed on was a younger version of Titus, standing beside a beautiful Spanish woman with her hand gracefully tucked into the bend of his arm. She was stunning, but it wasn’t her who caught my attention. It was him. The look I’d been seeing on his face ever since he decided to make tonight more personal than business was the same expression he wore in the photo.

“That photo was taken the day I left for Oxford,” he said, answering my curiosity. “The woman is my late mother, Isabel Velázquez Hawk. She was the visionary behind Hawk Enterprise.”

“She’s very beautiful,” I said honestly.

“You remind me of her,” he said in a way that got my full attention.

His voice wasn’t just low, it was resolute.