Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The ocean was in gentle motion when I woke. From the cliffs of my estate in Pacific Palisades, the endless expanse of water stretched beyond the glass and disappeared over the horizon. The early-morning light caught the surface of the sea, making everything else feel smaller and quieter.
That was exactly why I lived here. The estate wasn’t just a home—it was the one place in my life that belonged entirely to me. Steel, stone, and glass clung to the hillside above the Pacific, far enough removed that no one arrived unless I invited them.
I stepped out of my bed, the cool stone beneath my feet grounding me as I crossed the bedroom.
The bathroom doors slid open as I approached. Dark marble and glass reflected the early light, every surface immaculate.
I gave the audible command to turn on my shower to its programmed temperature while bracing my hands on the counter. I splashed water on my face, then lifted my gaze to the mirror.
Everything about my expression was focused and already working on the planned day ahead of me.
Fucking Jameston. I offered that bastard three times that building’s value, only for him to reject it. Not ignore it. Not counter it. Just reject it. That wasn’t business—it was a message.
I turned toward the shower, steam already rising as the water hit the stone, and stepped beneath it.
Jameston knew it was me who made the offer.
Even with the holding company, the cover name, and all the layers meant to conceal it, he knew.
The dick was an idiot in business, to be sure, but even so, I knew he wouldn’t accept a buyout from me outright.
That’s why I structured it the way I did, with a different name and a foreign company.
Something he’d be tempted to grab if he thought it gave him a faster way up the ladder in this territory.
Instead? He declined. It was like he already knew the angle I was playing. And that meant the offer hadn’t just been rejected, it had been anticipated.
That shifted things. I didn’t appreciate being forced into reacting. I didn’t appreciate assholes like this. It wasn’t finished yet, though. I planned to dig deeper and determine why these fuckers were out here.
By the time I stepped into my dressing room, my charcoal suit had already been laid out. As with all my suits, it was sharp and tailored to precision, without excess.
I dressed without rushing, each movement deliberate. I buttoned my shirt, adjusted my cuffs, and slid my watch into place as the final detail fell into place. Control wasn’t something I turned on; it was something I maintained.
And this morning? I needed that innate talent.
The scent of coffee met me as I stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mr. Hawk,” my chef greeted, already plating breakfast.
I nodded and offered Edward a smile of approval for the egg whites, avocado, and black coffee. My morning fuel and nothing more.
I took a seat at the marble island, scanning the tablet beside my plate. Market updates. Developments. Timelines. Everything was moving exactly as it should.
Until I was reminded that everything wasn’t. My eyes returned to the line in the email my brother Wyatt called me about last night.
Jameston Holdings: Offer declined
What is this bastard really up to? I thought as I finished my coffee slowly, letting the weight of his decision settle.
He wasn’t playing for money. He was playing for position.
“Your helicopter is ready,” my house manager said from just beyond the kitchen. “The pilot is awaiting your departure.”
“Thank you, Lucas,” I said as I set down my coffee mug so I could gather my things.
The flight into Los Angeles gave me plenty of time to think. By the time my Rolls pulled up to Hawk Enterprise, I’d already decided Jameston declining my offer wasn’t the issue. I wanted to know why the Jamestons had anticipated my move.
The atmosphere on the executive floor was noticeably different the moment I stepped out of the elevator. On the top floors of my building, everything was quieter and sharper, with more intention than on the lower floors.
My office sat beyond a set of glass doors at the end of the corridor, but I didn’t make it that far before my receptionist was already on her feet.
“Elizabeth,” I greeted her with a nod.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawk,” she said, her tablet already in hand.
She’d relocated from New York with me because she was efficient, unflappable, and understood that unnecessary conversation wasted time.
“Colton is waiting in your office,” she said. “And the holding company confirmed the offer was declined without review.”
“No interruptions.”
“Understood, Mr. Hawk.”
The glass doors opened seamlessly as I approached, and just like that, I was exactly where I needed to be. They sealed quietly behind me as I stepped inside, Newport stretching out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Colton sat angled slightly in one of the chairs across from my desk, tablet in hand, already halfway through whatever report had his attention.
“You’re late,” he said without looking up.
“I’m on time,” I replied, setting my jacket over the back of the chair before crossing toward the window.
He smirked faintly. “Same difference in your world.”
He wasn’t wrong. We were different in that way. In Colton’s world, on time meant late. In my world, time bent to my will.
My gaze shifted past the glass’s reflection and landed exactly where it had the moment I walked in: Jameston’s building. Positioned just in front of mine, almost as if it were built to be close enough to piss me off, yet far enough to make a statement.
“What do you know about the bastard declining our offer?” I questioned without turning back to my brother.
Colton exhaled quietly, setting the tablet down. “Most likely the same as you. They declined the offer without even running it through valuation.”
“Interesting that they didn’t counter,” I said.
“As if he knew it was us.”
I nodded slowly. “Then, it’s obvious that they’re not negotiating.”
“No,” Colton softly chuckled. “It’s more like they’re cock-blocking.”
I turned slightly at that, studying him for a moment before shifting my attention back to the skyline.
“Not just that,” I responded. “It’s as if they were anticipating it.”
“So, you agree that he knew it was you?”
“The fucker had to know.”
Three times market value didn’t get declined by accident. And it didn’t get declined quietly. This was calculated and personal.
I crossed back toward the desk, resting my hands briefly against the edge as I let the thought settle.
“This isn’t about the building,” I said.
“No,” Colton agreed. “It’s not.”
“Then what the hell is it?”
Colton didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t need to. I already fucking knew this was retaliation. For something in our past, tied to a mistake Lowell Jameston had made. Before or after my father’s death? Who the fuck knew?
What I did know was this—it pissed me the hell off, and I wasn’t about to get caught off guard by whatever these bastards had planned after following me to the West Coast.
“Mr. Hawk,” Elizabeth came over the intercom of my office.
I frowned, knowing she would never interrupt a meeting with my brother unless it was important.
“Go ahead,” I said, eyes fixed on my brother’s concerned ones.
“Are we expecting anyone?” he mouthed while Elizabeth spoke.
“Christian Jameston is requesting a meeting with you?”
I smiled at my brother. It was as if the fly had flown into my web this morning all by itself. “Send him in.”
“Right away, sir,” she answered.
Within seconds, my door swung open, revealing Christian Jameston stepping into my office as if he belonged there. Uninvited, unbothered, and confidently arrogant enough to believe this scenario made him untouchable.
“Hawk,” he said smoothly, his gaze sweeping the room as if he were taking inventory of everything I’d built. “I thought I’d stop by and personally congratulate you.”
I remained standing, staring at him as he paraded into my office like a damn peacock. “On what?” I finally answered.
His smile edged slightly, like he’d expected that response from me.
“This building, of course,” he said, gesturing loosely around him. “It’s quite impressive.” He frowned as if searching for words. “Imposing,” he finished with the same smile of a disgusting snake.
“Did you expect anything less of me?” I answered.
“No. I am actually willing to offer you three times the market value for it,” he said, clearly recognizing that I was the one who’d made the purchase offer for his building, with a smile that left no doubt. Colton shifted slightly beside me, but I kept my gaze fixed on Christian.
Christian stepped further in, deliberately testing the space without fully crossing into it.
“You move fast,” he continued. “Three times market value and through a holding company?” He shook his head as if I were the fly caught in his web.
Wrong. My expression didn’t change. “You should’ve accepted.”
Christian’s smile sharpened, “My father made that mistake once.”
“Interesting,” Colton answered before I could, baiting him for more information so we could figure out what the hell this family was up to out here.
“You see, my dad underestimated the West Coast,” Christian added. “He believed money would be enough.”
I took a step forward. “Money is always enough,” I said quietly.
His gaze held mine.
“No,” he replied. “What is it you always used to say in our circles?” he snapped his fingers as if he had just answered a billion-dollar question. “Right, control is. Control is the answer to everything, and money follows that.”
Silence stretched between us.
“You’re not as difficult to track as you think,” he continued. “Even when you try to be quiet.”
“I don’t try,” I said. “Everything I do has a reason behind it. Don’t fool yourself into believing that rejecting my offer was in your best interest, or, dare I say, control.”
His expression tightened from smug to sharp in an instant. “I came here to make something clear,” he said, his voice dropping. “My building isn’t for sale, and neither is any business inside it.”
There it was. This was not just about the building. This was about the businesses within it. It was the people, the access, and the positioning of all the tenants, as if they stationed him anywhere in this world.
My jaw tightened just enough to register. “Perhaps then, you should’ve just ignored the offer,” I said, “instead of walking into my office.”
His expression shifted, “I like to be clear.”
“So do I.”
“So, Hawk?” he added. “Stay out of my building and away from my tenants.”
I moved around my desk slowly. “Your tenants pay you for square footage, Christian. They don’t belong to you.”
“We’ll see.”
“No.” I stopped in front of him. “You will.”
His jaw tightened.
“Enjoy your new headquarters,” he said before turning toward the door.
“Christian.”
He looked back.
“The next time you enter my office without an appointment, my security will return you to your building.”
He left without another word.
After the door closed, Colton released a slow breath.
“Well,” he said. “That boy desperately wants to become a problem.”
“He already has.”
I turned toward the windows. The Jameston building stood directly below, close enough to study and sealed tightly enough that my investigators would lose weeks trying to gain access without being noticed.
If I wanted answers, I needed someone on the inside.
Movement near its entrance caught my eye.
Catalina Veléz crossed the plaza with her phone pressed to her ear, issuing instructions to whoever had the misfortune of disappointing her that morning.
I could use her. Now that I knew she worked inside the building.
She also understood powerful people, noticed details others missed, and had no loyalty to Christian Jameston beyond a lease.
“No,” Colton said behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. “I haven’t said anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
My attention returned to Catalina.
“I need someone inside that building who can tell me what Christian’s true plans are.”
“And you think she’ll spy on her landlord because you offer her a few parties?”
“I think she’s ambitious, observant, and practical.”
“She also dislikes you.”
“That can be corrected.”
Colton laughed once. “You genuinely learned nothing in Monaco.”
Perhaps not.
But Catalina had charged half a million dollars because she knew exactly what her work was worth. A woman like that understood mutually beneficial arrangements.
I pressed the intercom. “Elizabeth.”
“Yes, Mr. Hawk?”
“Get Catalina Veléz on the phone.”
Colton shook his head. “This is going to end badly.”
I watched Cat disappear through the entrance across the plaza.
“It will only end badly for Jameston,” I assured my brother.
“I have Catalina Veléz on line two,” Elizabeth announced.
Colton leaned back in his chair. “Last chance to abandon this terrible idea.”
I picked up the receiver. “Ms. Veléz.”
A brief silence followed. Then her irritated voice came over the line. “What can I help you with, Mr. Hawk?”
I smiled.
This was going to be enjoyable.