Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Mediterranean Sea stretched endlessly before us, its waves rolling in with a quiet rhythm that felt steady, predictable, and safe. The air carried warmth and salt, and the light cast a golden glow against everything it touched.
It was different here. It always was. I loved that our mother brought us here every summer to escape our father’s unyielding rule, while he stayed in London or New York, devouring businesses as if he were put on this Earth to do so.
“?Titus, rápido!”
I turned at the sound of my brother Wyatt’s voice, already grinning before I saw him, and took off across the warm sand without hesitation.
My feet sank with every step, the ground shifting beneath me.
No matter how deep or thick the sand was, it didn’t slow me down, especially not when Wyatt was already halfway to the water and determined to beat me there.
As usual, he didn’t, and I ended up winning.
I caught him just as he hit the shore and crashed into him hard enough to send us both stumbling into the surf. The cold water splashed around us as we laughed like it was the greatest thing in the world.
Because in that moment… it was.
“?Ninos!” my mother shouted with a laugh. “You’ll ruin the clothes I just put on you.” I turned and looked at her.
She stood a little farther up the shore, just beyond where the tide reached, as the breeze tugged gently at the hem of her dress. There was always something about my mother’s presence that made everything else feel quieter, as if the world settled when she was near.
She wasn’t dressed like the other women we saw at my father’s events.
She never was, because there was no need for it.
Our mother carried something far more commanding than any designer clothing could give any woman.
She was natural and warm, and her presence made you feel that being near her was enough.
“We’ll dry easily!” Colton called back, laughing with us as he rushed into the surf and splashed water in my direction.
I loved the freedom of being here with just my brothers and my mom. She was always smiling, but it wasn’t only that. It was the way she watched us, as if she were memorizing every second, holding on to something she didn’t want to lose.
I walked out of the surf, and headed toward her with water dripping from my clothes as I reached her side.
“You said we could stay all day,” I reminded her, glancing back at my brothers as they kept running along the shore.
“I did,” she said softly, brushing her fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my face the way she always did. “And we will. I just don’t want your clothes to be drenched or you three will complain on our walk back to the house.”
My mother’s touch lingered just long enough to feel grounding and safe.
“Though I should probably allow you boys to enjoy this freedom, as we will rarely have it after we return home,” she said. “Do you enjoy spending your summers where your mamá grew up?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
Her smile deepened, though there was something behind it—something quieter, something I didn’t fully understand at the time.
“That’s because you’re allowed to be children here,” she said.
I frowned slightly, looking back at my brothers. We were always children, weren’t we? Sometimes my mother made no sense.
“It’s more fun here,” I said instead, because that was the only way I knew to explain it.
Her hand moved from my hair to my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “I know,” she said with her usual warm smile. “And for lunch, we’ll be eating your Tía Marcella’s paella.”
I inhaled the salty ocean air as if I could already smell Tía’s paella cooking in our summer home, filling the place with the rich scents of garlic and saffron.
I leaned into my mother, fully relaxed and at peace with everything I loved about her and about our lives when we came to the house in Marbella.
For a moment, everything felt still, even as I watched the ocean move and felt the wind carrying through the air. I smiled, hearing my brothers’ laughter echo behind me. This was our slice of heaven on earth.
Until, as if the wind shifted, it all changed. The heaviness that replaced the serenity wasn’t loud or obvious, but you could feel it. My stomach dropped as I saw my mother’s expression change.
And as if someone had snapped their fingers, the lightness of the moment was gone, replaced by a heavier, looming thickness in the air.
I looked up at her, and for the first time since we’d arrived, the softness in her expression faded. She glanced over her shoulder, her warmth giving way to something more severe.
Only one person could bring out this darker side of my mother.
I turned back to confirm and saw my father standing further up the shore, just beyond where the sand met the stone walkway.
As always, he was perfectly composed and immaculately dressed, completely out of place in a moment that, only seconds ago, had felt like freedom.
“Titus,” he said without raising his voice.
That was all it took, and my brothers stopped playing in the surf and slowly stepped away from the water.
I felt Mom’s hand shift slightly against my shoulder, neither pushing me forward, nor holding me back. “Go to your papa,” she said quietly.
I didn’t want to. I looked back at the ocean, at the place where everything had felt light and easy just moments before. Then I looked back at him. Even then, I understood. I knew the rules and the repercussions if he had to call my name a second time.
I walked toward my father slowly, but I was attentive to his command because if I showed any hint of being upset, I would be in trouble for that too.
“Why are our children playing in the water like orphans, fully dressed?” he asked my mother in a resolute tone.
“Because they’re children,” she answered him, her usual annoyance evident. “Why are you here?”
My father looked at me. “You and your brothers will be leaving for England at the end of the week,” he said. He then looked at my mother. “All of this running away for the summers will cease. Our boys are going to receive proper education, structure, and discipline.”
My chest tightened. I always knew this day was coming, but I didn’t think it would come this fast.
My mother sighed, “We talked about this, and we both agreed that after next summer we will place them in those schools.”
He ignored her. “What is expected of them requires more than nonsensical adventures,” he added. “If we are to continue the empire I’m building for this family, they need to understand that life is not filled with games and light-hearted pastimes.”
My mother stayed silent and didn’t argue with him because she, too, knew the fallout of challenging the man.
The sound of the ocean carried behind me, steady and endless.
As I stood there listening, I felt something shift into place inside me, something I wouldn’t fully understand until years later.
I glanced once more at my mom’s saddened expression, summer cut short, and then the image of her dissolved into nothing.
My eyes snapped open, and I exhaled, releasing the feelings from the dream of my past. I sat up in bed, trying to find my bearings, as I hadn’t dreamed of my parents in years.
Hell, I hadn’t dreamed of being that little boy—wild and carefree during our summers on the Mediterranean—in decades.
I knew the dream had to have come because I brought Cat into that room I rarely visited.
In fact, I only revisited the memories that hung on those walls and the journals my mom had written when I needed to regain my composure and ground myself in business.
My mouth was parched, and I needed water. As I walked through the house, my mind drifted back to Cat being with me tonight. Her personality was so much like my mother’s, but there was more strength behind her eyes and in her presence.
Where my father took years to break my mother down through abuse and mold her into the obedient woman she’d become with him, I couldn’t see how a man could ever break down Catalina’s walls, and I greatly admired that strength in her.
Even more so now, after that dream had brought back memories of my father controlling our family with an iron fist and my mom allowing it. It’s not that I was upset about it, though. I was the man I am today because of it.
It’s also why Catalina could be dangerous if I found myself admiring more than her strength. Any emotion of love or admiration for any woman was one I knew I couldn’t control, and that was something I could never risk happening to me.
I downed a glass of water, knowing I’d sleep soundly for the rest of the evening. If anything, that dream was a reminder that I could not allow the multiple emotions that had taken place tonight with Cat in my presence to happen again while I used her to get to Jameston.
A week had passed since I walked Catalina out of my home and watched her leave with far more control than I’d intended to allow. And somehow, everything since had been just slightly off.
For the first couple of days, I’d chalked it up to that dream I’d had about my parents, but after a week, the feeling still hadn’t gone away. It was like a damn itch I couldn't scratch. Whatever it was, I kept it buried well enough that no one around me noticed, and business continued as usual.
This meeting in New York should have held my full attention. It was a multi-billion-dollar acquisition, with three firms competing for position, and a room filled with men who built their reputations on not being the first to blink.
Normally, I would’ve enjoyed it, controlled it, and closed it. Instead, I found myself watching one of the men speak, and while he was mid-sentence, I realized I hadn’t heard a damn word he’d said.
Fucking annoying.
I shifted slightly in my chair, steepling my fingers as I refocused on the discussion, forcing my attention back to where it belonged. I had a feeling that if Colton and Wyatt were with me, they’d see right through this bullshit, so thank God they weren’t.
I needed to stay focused and handle the numbers, the strategy, and the outcome—because that’s what mattered. That’s what always fucking mattered in my life. And yet, like a damn intrusion, my mind drifted back to her again.
The way she stood in that room, as if she didn’t need anything from me. The way she refused to let the conversation bend, no matter how many times I tried to redirect it. The way she walked out of my house without asking what I was offering her.
Most women—or men, for that matter—would’ve waited. Pressed. Or positioned themselves for the outcome. She didn’t. Instead, she acted uninterested in everything I had to say, then left.
And that alone had shifted the entire dynamic between what she meant to me and my business.
The meetings ended, and I signed the final document without hesitation, sliding it back across the table as the room fell into quiet approval. The deal was done, and even though I was half aware of how I pulled it off, I knew it would all have been finalized the way I wanted. It always was.
“Congratulations, Mr. Hawk,” one of the men said, extending his hand.
I shook it without a second thought, “Pleasure doing business.”
It wasn’t. Business was predictable. This? The thoughts of Catalina, now plaguing my mind? That wasn’t predictable, and I didn’t like it.
By the time I stepped out of the building, the late-afternoon air in Manhattan was sharp, cutting through the city’s noise in a way that usually grounded me.
Today, it didn’t. My driver had the car waiting, and after a nod of acknowledgment, I slid into the back seat, loosening my tie slightly as the door closed behind me.
“Your jet is prepared for take-off at the airport, Mr. Hawk,” he said. “Everything is on schedule.”
“Very good,” I answered.
Silence settled in the car as we pulled into traffic, the city moving around me in a blur of motion and noise I barely registered.
I reached for my phone. I needed to fix just one item that didn’t feel on schedule.
Perhaps that’s why this woman was floating around in my head.
I still hadn’t heard from her, and I was quite shocked she hadn’t even followed up about our dinner at my house.
Why wouldn’t this woman have followed up? She knew I was willing to offer her five hundred thousand to secure her. Hell, it’s practically what I offered her just to indulge me in that damn dinner.
Then I realized the nature of the woman I was engaging. Catalina Veléz didn’t chase outcomes; she created them, and that’s what she was doing with her silence.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer than it should have. Fuck. I didn’t reach out first. I never did. But this situation required…adjustment. And it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was necessary.
I tapped her contact info on my cell and then paused. After a breath, I set the phone back down beside me.
No. I would not reach out yet. If I reached out now, it would be on her terms. And that wasn’t how this situation was going to work between her and me.
By the time we reached the airport, my decision was already made. If Catalina Veléz wanted to step into my world and maintain control of the dynamic between us, then I would simply shift the environment again.
Because control wasn’t something I lost. It was something I recalibrated.
I stepped out of the car, the jet already on the runway, engines quiet but ready. Everything was in place and exactly as it should be.
Except—my fucking mind was still on her. And this shit was the only variable I hadn’t accounted for. As I climbed the steps to the jet, I pulled out my phone and texted before I could overthink it.
Titus: Clear your schedule this weekend
I stared at the screen for a moment. No greeting for her, no explanation, just my expectation.
After feeling more like myself, I hit send. And damn it if that wasn’t the one thing that suddenly fucked me up in my head, because for the first time in a long time, I found myself waiting to see what someone else would do next.
And now? I wondered whether the woman would even respond to my demands. All the other women seemed to wait for this particular text, but I learned last week that Cat was unlike any other woman I’d ever met.