Page 7 of Titus

“That’s the damn truth,” I said with a soft chuckle. “However, my line of work has me saving the billionaire’s asses, and it’s a good fucking thing that a certain billionaire decided to have a crisis last week.”

Nat’s brows lifted. “I heard you saved Titus’s ass,” she laughed.

Nat was married to Spencer Monroe, Jim Mitchell’s VP and one of the few men who moved comfortably in the same circles as Titus.

If there was billionaire gossip worth knowing, she’d usually heard it before anyone else in Los Angeles.

“Did your husband fill you in?” I crossed my arms. “I was wondering what he took away from that event.”

“Just the fact that you handled that cranky old bastard⁠—”

“Petrov?” I laughed. “I swear to God with some of these elites…”

“It’s really no different than any other asshole with more money than he knows what to do with.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “I stepped in to diaper that man while he was making a complete ass of himself, all while everyone stood there looking to Titus to put an end to the spectacle.”

“How did you get involved in that event? Titus is extremely exclusive about who plans events for him like that over-the-top yacht party,” she asked. “I swear to God, that man has been unstoppable since coming to the West Coast. Lavish events nearly every other weekend.”

“Well, that could explain why his planner had a nervous breakdown and walked,” I turned toward her. “That’s how I was put on it.” I rolled my eyes, “They called me like I was coming in to perform emergency surgery.”

“How did you handle it all at the last minute? I mean, one minute you’re dealing with the Stratus’s gala in Hollywood, and the next thing we all know, you’re planning a yacht event in Monaco.”

“Well, it was pretty simple. I told them I charged five hundred thousand dollars for a last-minute salvage fee,” I answered with a smile.

“Holy shit,” Nat let out a low giggle. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” I answered with a laugh. “Titus’s finance team didn’t blink.”

“I swear, these men will always pay whatever it takes to fix their problems and keep their image flawless in front of each other,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“That’s the truth, and I know it well,” I answered. “The money was wired before the first champagne glass was set.”

Her grin widened. “Whatever will these elites do without you?” she playfully patted my butt. “I love it.”

“Ha,” I said playfully, and glanced out at the million-dollar view in front of us. “So do my clients when everything doesn’t fall apart,” I finished with a wink to her, knowing this was the place where my team and I needed to be.

I pulled my phone from my bag.

“And now, for my finance man to see if this will be the place I take more of those emergency calls,” I said, smiling at her, eyes widening with the same excitement I was feeling.

My finance manager picked up on the second ring. “Tell me you’re about to spend an irresponsible amount of money,” Elliot teased, his voice dry and already halfway amused.

“Time to run numbers, my friend,” I said, turning slightly toward the windows again.

“What’s the location of the building again?”

“Newport Beach. Fashion Island. Nat just brought me to a new build on the premium floor.”

There was a pause.

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’m listening.”

I gave him the lease figures Nat had quoted.

Silence.

“…Jesus,” he whispered.