Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Moving into a new office was supposed to feel like progress, growth, and elevation. Instead, it felt like controlled chaos tied together by expensive square footage. For now, anyway.
“Those don’t go there,” I said, stepping off the elevator into what would soon be the operational nerve center of Veléz Global. “They go on the west wall. Natural light hits it better after two in the afternoon.”
“We staged them there temporarily until the west wall was finished,” Aria answered.
“Move them once it’s clear.”
The space itself was exactly what I’d envisioned, with floor-to-ceiling glass, clean architectural lines, and enough light to make every event we designed feel larger than life. Breanne Grayson had somehow translated everything in my head into reality.
Now all that remained were the final details.
“Aria,” I called back out to my design lead.
“Yeah?” she answered, busy with one of the arrangements that were just delivered.
“If I see one more placement arrangement in here, I’m sending you back to Melrose with Garfield.”
She gasped dramatically from somewhere behind a mountain of floral samples. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” I glanced over my shoulder, offered her a smile and a wink.
“I hate it here,” she muttered.
“You love it,” I shot back without looking at her.
“I hate that I love it.”
“That’s growth.”
Marcus stood near the far wall, already recalibrating the lighting panels as if the building itself had personally offended him.
“The overheads are off by half a degree,” he said.
“Fix it then,” I replied.
“Already am.”
Of course he was… it was Marcus. According to that man, everything was always off by a half or a quarter of a degree. I smiled with pride and love for my technical production designer.
Jules crossed the space with a tablet in hand, calm as ever, completely unfazed by the storm of boxes and cables and by Aria’s emotional attachment to a stray cat she’d said goodbye to at least fifty times before we left the Melrose office this morning.
“Vendors are asking for updated routing,” Jules said. “They’re confused by the new access points.”
“They’re not confused,” I corrected. “They’re lazy. Send them the revised map and tell them to adjust.”
He smiled faintly. “Already did.”
That’s why I appreciated having Jules as my VP of Guest Relations. He observed every detail and guided everyone to ensure a seamless process. His presence on move-in day contributed to an easier transition than expected.
But this was how we always operated, flowing naturally together, making this as seamless as orchestrating any other billionaire event. We were masters at taking chaos and making it behave.
“All right. I expect that in thirty minutes,” I said, setting my bag down on what would soon be my desk. “Then I want this place running like we’ve been here for a year.”
“Ambitious,” Lena called from the back.
“We all know how I operate,” I smirked at my operations and communications manager.
“All too well,” she answered with a laugh.
A quiet voice cut through the noise behind me.
“Cat?”
I turned.
Daniella Cruz stood near the entrance to my office, tablet in hand, expression composed, but not neutral. That alone immediately grabbed my attention.
“Yes?”
“You have a call.”
I glanced toward the clock on the wall.
“I just walked in.”
“I’m aware.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Who is it?”
“Titus Hawk’s office. His secretary.”
God. I let out a slow breath, setting my hands on my hips as I looked around the space, watching my team in mid-transition, mid-chaos, and mid-perfection.
I looked back at Dani. “Put it through to my office line.”
“Who am I speaking with?” I asked when I picked up the line.
“Ms. Veléz, this is Elizabeth calling on behalf of Mr. Hawk.”
Her voice was exactly what I expected, smooth and professional.
“How can I help you?” I replied, moving toward the window.
“Mr. Hawk is requesting a moment of your time.”
Requesting? I almost laughed. “He doesn’t strike me as the requesting type.”
“He prefers efficiency.”
“I prefer context,” I countered.
“I’ll connect you now.”
I waited as the line clicked again, and I leaned lightly against the edge of my desk, my gaze drifting toward the glistening ocean as I waited.
“Ms. Veléz,” his voice commanded through the phone.
“Mr. Hawk,” I answered with the same command.
“Forgive me for interrupting your moving day,” he said, “but I believe I must humbly request your services once again.”
“For five hundred thousand dollars?” I said, ensuring I wouldn’t have to work for him.
“If that is what it takes to secure your services on a retainer basis to oversee the planning of all my events starting next weekend,” he stated directly.
“Forgive me for being completely confused by this proposal, Mr. Hawk. Would you care to share with me why you now believe a simple event planner is worth five hundred thousand dollars?”
I heard him chuckle over the phone. “Well, let’s just say that after attending Jameston’s event last evening and comparing it to how you organized mine, I’d prefer you to be officially in charge of all future events for Hawk Enterprise.”
How the hell could I turn this offer down? This was what I had worked my entire life for. But there had to be more to it than that, and it wasn’t because I was a piece of ass he wanted. Men in these circles didn’t play that way.
“I’ll need to think about it,” I finally responded.
“Take your time,” he answered.
The second the line went dead, I stayed exactly where I was—hand braced against the edge of my desk, eyes still on the glass, as if I hadn’t just been pulled into Titus Hawk’s orbit before I’d even had a chance to unpack my office.
I’ll think about it… Because of course I would.
I pushed off the desk and stepped back out into the controlled disaster that was now my office. Nothing had caught fire. No one was crying. We were doing great.
“How is it going?” I called out to my team.
“Lighting is now emotionally stable,” Marcus said without looking up.
“Good. I don’t have the capacity to manage lighting with abandonment issues today.”
“I heard that,” Aria snapped from across the room. “And for the record, the west wall still feels like it’s judging me.”
“It’s probably judging all of us,” I replied.
Jules crossed in front of me, tablet in hand. “Half the vendors are asking if the new loading entrance is permanent.”
“Seriously?” I looked at him as if to ask why this is even a question from them. “Tell them it is until I decide it isn’t,” I said with a teasing laugh.
He nodded. “You can be so… confusing. They’re all going to love us here,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
I chuckled. “Good.”
I walked into my office, sat at my desk, and opened my laptop.
A quiet voice cut through the noise again.
“Excuse me, Cat?”
I didn’t even look up, “If it’s another vendor asking where to unload, tell them to figure it out or go home.”
Dani chuckled, knowing all morning had been like this. “It’s not a vendor this time.”
I sighed, glancing up from my laptop.
“Then who?”
“Titus Hawk.”
I leaned back slowly in my chair, staring at the ceiling for half a second before dragging my gaze back to her.
“Did he discover the concept of persistence in the last hour, or is this just who he is?”
Dani smiled. “He says it won’t take long.”
“These men always say that.” I sighed, having no clue why the man needed to call me back five seconds after we hung up. “Patch him through.”
The line clicked.
“Ms. Veléz,” he said in a voice that was so confident it seemed I should appreciate the immediate return call.
“You know, most people allow more than two minutes when someone tells them they need time to think about something.”
“I don’t operate like most people.”
“No,” I said dryly. “That’s quite obvious. Seriously. I’m not making a decision today.”
“I’m not calling about the offer.”
“Then this should be quick,” I answered, pretending not to show concern about what the hell this man could be calling me back about.
“I’d like you to have dinner with me.”
I leaned back slowly, crossing one leg over the other. “Dinner?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
I let the word sit there for a moment, rolling it around like it might suddenly make sense.
“That’s a pretty bold move, Mr. Hawk,” I said at last. “Especially considering I haven’t even decided whether to work with you for all your events.”
“I’m not asking you to work.”
“Then what exactly are you asking me?” I questioned.
“I’m asking you to indulge me in dinner so I can properly apologize for insulting you, your business, and your team,” he said. “I presume that is the only reason you need to think about me hiring you?”
“True,” I answered.
“Allow me to gain your trust so we can move forward,” he said.
“Why are you so—”
“Because Ms. Veléz,” he cut me off, “I demand the best, and after your work on my Monaco event, you proved you’re the only person who can meet my expectations.”
“Very well, when?” I said, more curious than anything about why Titus was so damn interested in my services, since the last time I saw him, he’d treated me like I’d robbed him. “And where are we going?”
“Tonight. I’ll send a car.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“We’ll have dinner at my estate.”
I frowned. “Your estate?”
“Some conversations deserve privacy.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
He softly chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“I will see you then,” he said before the line went dead.
What the hell am I getting myself into? I thought.
I felt a bit suspicious of his motives, but I guess it wasn’t all that different from what I did with my own clients. I earned their trust by going above and beyond, and the more I thought about it, the more it felt like Titus was doing the same thing with me.
I didn’t know what Titus Hawk was up to, but the man was a mystery, if there ever was one. One thing was clear: he did everything on a grand scale, so it made sense that he’d go out of his way to hire me. I was the best planner in the business, and everyone in his social circles knew it.