Titus (Billionaires’ Club: Hawk Dynasty #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I didn’t just throw luxurious parties. I hosted power gatherings where billions moved quietly.

Tonight had to be executed flawlessly, and so far, it had been, even if my scheduled event coordinator had somehow been replaced by Catalina Veléz without my knowledge—something I would address with my staff the moment this event was over.

And make no mistake, whoever was responsible for that last-minute change had better pray this woman impressed me more than she appeared to challenge me.

The Mediterranean stretched black and endless beyond the glass walls of the observation lounge, broken only by the approaching lights of investor tenders gliding across the water.

Tonight wasn’t just a party; it was my personal evaluation of the billionaire investors boarding this yacht, and it would determine whether I wanted their names associated with my growing empire.

My brother Wyatt stood behind the bar, pouring bourbon as if it were a casual evening rather than a gathering that could determine the future of our company.

Typical.

“I would appreciate it if you could compose yourself and act like you are a part of this family’s empire,” I said as I walked toward him, “instead of like the yacht’s bartender, hermano.”

He rolled his eyes, taking a sip of bourbon. “What? Billionaires aren’t allowed to pour their own drinks now?”

“You’re not pouring drinks,” I said flatly. “You’re playing bartender in front of people who control global economies.”

“Even better,” he said. “Maybe I’ll get tips.”

I stared at him.

He grinned, then added, “Unless you’re just cranky because it’s been a while since you’ve—”

“Save the crude comments for when you’re in a nightclub,” I interjected. “The staff will serve you, or you’ll disembark the yacht.”

Wyatt blinked once, then slowly grinned wider. “Wow,” he said. “Someone hasn’t seen a naked woman in a while.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know,” he said cheerfully. “Which makes it even funnier.”

He stepped away from the bar, clinked his glass lightly against my Rolex, and walked toward the sofa where our brother Colton was lounging like a king observing court entertainment.

“I’m not arguing,” Wyatt said over his shoulder. “You are.”

Colton looked between us with lazy amusement.

Unlike Wyatt, who enjoyed playing the jester, Colton was quiet, controlled, and calculating.

Wyatt thrived on chaos, and Colton thrived on strategy.

And both were extremely good at what they did, which was the only reason Wyatt was still on this yacht instead of floating somewhere in the Mediterranean.

Spencer Monroe stood at a high-top table near the windows, reviewing the guest list on his tablet. Jim Mitchell’s vice president looked the same as always—calm, precise, and impossible to read. That was exactly why I wanted him here tonight.

Spencer represented Mitchell and Associates, our West Coast development partner, and I wanted him to see the newest investment I was undertaking firsthand.

The good news was that men like Spencer didn’t attend events like this for entertainment. They came to evaluate, which meant something my dipshit brother Wyatt had said to Jim before flying to meet us in Monaco must have stuck.

Time would tell, though. I wasn’t giving up on Mitchell going all-in just yet.

Spencer turned the tablet toward me. “Your guest list is... ambitious.”

Colton chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Spencer continued scrolling, one eyebrow lifting a little higher with every swipe. “Royal families. Sovereign wealth. Shipping. Energy. Tech.” He looked up. “There isn’t a weak name on this list.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be.”

A slow grin crossed Spencer's face. “If even half these people commit tonight, Hawk Crown Reserve becomes the most exclusive luxury development in the world.”

“That’s the plan,” I answered.

“Time to sell it to him, Hermano,” Wyatt said to me, leaning against the bar.

I glanced at Spencer. “Six private islands.”

Colton picked it up. “Thirty villas per island.”

Wyatt whistled.

“Only thirty?”

“Scarcity,” I held Spencer’s gaze. “People don’t compete for what’s easy to get.”

Spencer closed the tablet. “Jim’s going to like that answer.”

“I know.”

Colton lifted his glass. “And if everyone thinks we’re insane?"

Wyatt smirked. “Then Titus just hosted the most expensive yacht party in history.”

He poured another Old Fashioned, glanced around the crowded deck, then slid the glass across the bar to Spencer. “So...” he said. “Which one of these wealthy bastards starts the first fight?”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. “Petrov.”

Colton nodded. “My money's on him too.”

As if the man had heard his name...shouting erupted from the main deck.

I began moving toward the stairs with Wyatt following closely behind me, and Spencer and Colton casually walked toward the bar as Petrov’s voice carried across the deck like artillery.

“This arrangement is unacceptable!” he barked. “I was promised privacy.”

Several investors’ heads had turned while I slowly approached and studied the man having a billionaire meltdown.

A staff member stood frozen near the port railing while Petrov towered over him. “This is amateur management,” Petrov continued loudly. “If this is how Hawk handles negotiations, perhaps I should reconsider my involvement.”

Good. Let the room hear this bastard squeal like an injured pig. Nothing revealed a man faster than pressure.

As I stepped closer, I saw that Petrov was approached by someone else before I could say a word.

“Mr. Petrov,” her voice was calm, clear, and completely unimpressed.

I watched as Catalina Veléz stepped into this circle of attention like she had been invited there.

Petrov turned toward her, clearly irritated she’d dare to even address him. “And you are?” he spat out.

“I’m the person who solved your problem three minutes ago, Mr. Petrov.”

A ripple of curiosity moved through the guests.

Petrov’s eyes narrowed at her. “My problem?”

“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.

“You handled that situation without consulting me,” I said carefully.

“You were upstairs.”

“And yet you believed you had the authority to intervene.”

“I believed that allowing a five-billion-dollar investor to insult your event staff in front of the entire guest list was… unproductive,” she said calmly.

Her gaze held mine steadily with no hostility in it. Just confidence, which was almost worse.

“You work for me,” I said.

“No,” she replied curtly, her answer landing between us like a dropped blade.

I studied her. “You’re running an event on my yacht.”

“The only reason I’m here.”

“Which means you work for me,” I pressed.

“I was contracted by your events director.”

“Who no longer works for me after making decisions without my approval.”

“Then it seems we both learned something new tonight,” she said coolly.

I lowered my voice slightly. “You challenged one of my investors.”

“I prevented him from embarrassing you.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her eyebrow lifted slightly. “I’m fairly certain you don’t build empires by letting men shout at your staff.”

The deck felt quieter suddenly. Not because the music stopped, but because she wasn’t backing down. Most people tried to impress me, while others tried to avoid me. This woman simply evaluated me as if I were another problem she might need to solve.

“Petrov is not someone you provoke casually,” I said.

“He’s not someone you reward for bad behavior either,” she insisted.

I stepped closer. Not enough to touch her or intimidate the way Petrov had—just enough that she’d understand the conversation was over when I said it was—but she didn’t move. She didn’t so much as lean back or even look away.

Interesting.

“You’re very comfortable making decisions that aren’t yours,” I said quietly.

“I’m very comfortable doing my job with precision and flawless execution. So yes, I am comfortable making decisions that aren’t mine. And in this situation, someone had to make a decision to handle Mr. Petrov.”

“And you assumed that someone should be you?”

“I assumed,” she said calmly, “that your investors expect competence.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the lower deck where Petrov had disappeared, then returned to mine. “And they received it.”

There was a breath of silence. Then I heard Wyatt speak behind me, “I’m just going to point out that technically she’s not wrong.”

“Wyatt,” I said without turning.

“Right,” he replied. “I’ll shut up.”

I looked back at Cat, “You seem very confident for someone who arrived here without my approval.”

“I arrived to ensure your event succeeded.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No,” she said quietly. “It isn’t.”

For the first time, something flickered in her expression. Not nervousness or fear, but something sharper. It was a challenge, and damn it if it didn’t turn me on.

Then she said the one thing that made my irritation sharpen into something far more dangerous.

“If you’d prefer, Mr. Hawk,” she said unfazed, “I can leave.” She gestured lightly toward the deck.

“However, if I do, you’ll need to find someone else capable of managing thirty billion dollars’ worth of investors before dinner. ”

Wyatt inhaled sharply.

“Jesus Christ,” I heard Colton mutter.

And I realized something in that moment: Catalina Veléz wasn’t trying to impress me…she was evaluating whether I was worth working for.

Most people wanted access to my empire, and this woman was deciding whether to be a part of it.

I studied her for a long moment. “You’re staying,” I said, trying to regain control over this woman who was unknowingly unraveling me with each sparring word she said against my own.

Her expression didn’t change. “Of course I am.”

I arched an eyebrow, “And it’s only because I said so.”

“No,” she remarked, “because the event isn’t finished.”

Another beat of silence passed, then she stepped past me.

It was just close enough that the faint scent of her perfume caught the Mediterranean air.

“Now that we’ve settled that, I have investors to manage,” she said and walked away.

Wyatt appeared beside me immediately. “Well, well.” He took a sip of bourbon. “I’m in love with her.”

I watched Catalina cross the deck, issuing instructions to the staff like she’d been running my operations for years.

And for the first time that evening... I smiled. But it wasn’t the smile of a happy, carefree boy. It was the smile of a wolf before it pounces on its prey.