Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I woke up to the silence I expected every time I stayed on the top floors of the hotel I owned in downtown Los Angeles.
My hotel, Horizon, was not only filled with my lavish touches—from the soil imported for the trees planted out front to the exclusive rooftop lounge for elites that costs five hundred thousand dollars just to join and ten thousand a year to maintain—but it was this particular floor that had the most of my personal touches added to it.
The windows that replaced all exterior walls of the building were designed to completely block out the sounds of Downtown LA. No sirens, no traffic hum—just serenity enveloping me in the comfort of the suite I chose to stay in when I wasn’t retreating to my place in Pacific Palisades.
Then, the reminder from last night pulled her leg up over my bare torso, her nails gently gliding up and over my chest, while she curled further into the spot where I lay on my back and focused on the sleek lines of the ceiling in my bedroom.
I glanced down at the stunning blonde, her bright blue eyes examining mine and already pleading for more of what I gave her last night.
My eyes returned to the ceiling, recalling last night’s gala while her moist lips and tongue softly moved along my side.
I could feel the desire for more already heating up between her legs.
Those feelings would end abruptly once she realized exactly what accepting my invitation meant—me needing a woman in my bed for my pleasure alone. And the truth was, I was already satiated, no longer needing anything more from a woman—body of a goddess or not.
My mind drifted back to last night—to the Jameston’s brokerage gala where I’d met her. Fuck, what was her name again? Presley? Pamela? Who gave a shit? It’s not like I had any intention of seeing her again.
I glanced at my phone, buzzing and lighting up as if the building were on fire.
Three texts, and the first was from my brother, Colton.
Colton: We have a problem. That brokerage from last night? Call me.
I smirked. Only Colton led with zero useful information after insisting there was a problem with the company from the gala.
I know rumors were already flying about me attending.
The company was in direct competition with the brokerage firm owned by my associate, James Mitchell, and his VP’s wife, Natalia Monroe.
They all probably thought I would betray my loyalty and use the new, emerging company in this area. But that wasn’t the case at all. I was simply there watching this East Coast firm move into the West Coast, believing it would explode and dominate the real estate market with funding from old money.
The trouble was, the Jamestons had no idea the fire they were playing with.
Just because the East Coast wealth was theirs didn’t mean the West Coast could be as well.
I knew that long before I decided to develop my interests on the West Coast. James Mitchell was the billionaire CEO who owned Southern California, and even a powerful and strategic man like me knew not to compete with him.
At first, it was about keeping friends close and enemies closer with Mitchell and Associates.
But once I really got to know Jim Mitchell, my respect and trust in him grew as if he were a brother.
That said, if I had entered this territory like this brokerage firm from the East Coast was doing, I would have failed. So, that’s all I was doing—figuring out if these cocky bastards were respecting the companies that dominated this location or trying to overrun them.
And with Jameston’s PR woman practically humping my side, I’d already gotten everything I needed. Her eagerness to get close to me last night made it effortless. She handed over every inside detail without realizing exactly what she was giving away.
Colton’s paranoia could wait. I needed to get my ass down to Mitchell and Associates, clear up any misconceptions, and make sure they knew exactly what Jameston Brokerage was planning.
Then it was back to Hawk Enterprise in Newport Beach to approve the final walkthrough with the builder and inspectors on a building that better be cleared for move-in by next fucking week, or I’d be firing the entire crew.
I set my phone down, untangled myself from the woman beside me, and headed toward my bathroom.
“Room service will be here in twenty minutes. Give the concierge whatever order you’d like before you go,” I told her.
“Wait,” she said, prompting me to stop and turn around.
She ran her palm over the black sheets, “You don’t want to finish what—”
“There’s another bathroom across the living area,” I informed her. “You can shower or bathe if you’d like. I’ll have the driver sent for you in two hours.”
“So that’s it?” she spat in disgust.
I turned, fully exposing my naked body without caring how it affected her. “You made it very clear that you understood how the circles I ran in worked,” I said flatly.
“Well, I do, but for some stupid reason, I thought you were different,” she said. “What you said to me last night?”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Solo palabras, preciosa,” I answered her quietly.
“What the hell does that mean?” she answered, her frustration no longer swayed by my Spanish accent or seduction.
“It means, merely words, beautiful,” I said with a wink, then slipped into my massive bathroom where I would wash away every trace of having devoured a woman’s body the night before.
I wasn’t a complete bastard to the women I slept with.
I made sure every ounce of pleasure the female body was meant to feel was felt—sensations they’d likely never experienced before.
Any woman I took to bed felt worshipped while she was with me.
And I never once forced anything or demanded they join me just to satisfy an appetite that would be gone by morning.
Broken hearts? God, how? We didn’t even know each other.
If anything, this woman should feel a hint of gratitude that I needed to get laid badly last night.
Hell, she was lucky she was waking up in my bed.
I hadn’t let a woman stay the night, let alone sleep in my arms, since a drunken night in Madrid.
So, the fact that I was sober? She could thank the jet lag from Monaco for that. It was the only reason she got the rare privilege of seeing my eyes the next morning after I’d had her.
My closet was behind the doors opposite the ones that led out to my room, and from there was my thousand-square-foot private office. After showering, dressing, and sending off a few emails, I had my briefcase in hand with my driver waiting for me just outside the lobby.
I glanced at my Rolex. The woman whose name still escaped me was either just finishing her breakfast in the room I’d left her or had already gone. Who knew? All I knew was that it would be the last time I saw her in my suite, and that was on her, not me.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawk,” Jim Mitchell’s receptionist greeted as I stepped out of the elevators onto the top floors of Howard Tower.
“Good morning to you, Brooke.” I smiled, watching the young receptionist blush as she always had under my gaze. “I trust springtime in Southern California is treating you well?”
“Always,” she said, absently chewing on the back of her pen.
I smirked in response. “Is Jim prepared to receive me?” I questioned, hoping the woman didn’t melt into a pile of lust right here in front of me.
“I’m prepared,” Jim said with his usual dry tone. “Thank you, Brooke.” He shot a warning glance at his secretary, then gave me one to confirm that type of shit would not be happening between her and me.
“Good to see you again, hermano,” I said, smiling and reaching for Jim’s extended hand. “I trust the Palisades project was in good hands while I was away?”
“Everything is in good hands when my company is involved,” Jim said, leading the way into his office that overlooked downtown Los Angeles.
“You know, you’re lucky you claimed this location before I could.” I smiled at him, sitting in a rich leather chair that was situated across from his mahogany desk.
Jim rolled his eyes. “You’re about fifty years too late.
My father beat you to the punch,” he grinned as he sat in his oversized leather office chair.
“Now,” he said, clasping his hands together and stretching them across his desk, “are we going to talk about the fact that you were at my competition’s gala last evening and you screwed their PR agent, Presley Adams, or the fact that I’m going to seriously kick your Spanish ass if you keep toying with my secretary every time you’re admitted onto this floor? ”
“Hey, I’m innocent.” I raised my hands and smiled playfully. “She’s the one who flirts with me, I merely return the pleasantries.”
Jim smirked and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure that’s what you were doing with Lowell Jameston’s PR rep last night at his benefit?”
“That’s exactly what I was doing. The difference is, she works for the competition, and I wanted a little more detail about what the assholes were planning.”
Jim’s eyebrows pulled together as his gaze locked onto mine, looking like the CEO I’d been smart enough not to compete with when I chose to build my empire further out on the West Coast.
“Go on,” he said.
“Are you sure you don’t wish to keep treating me as though I’m some child who went to a party without his parents’ permission?” I teased.
“If I had the time in my day, your cocky ass knows I would, but first, I want to know what Jameston Brokerage is doing on the West Coast?”
I crossed an ankle over my knee. “They plan to start with Natalia Monroe’s real estate interests,” I said. “They have a team of ten members on her projects alone, not including the other agents in that firm.”
I grinned when Jim rolled his eyes. “Then they’re wasting payroll. They’ll never gain a foothold out here with that approach.”