Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The aroma of coffee greeted me the moment I stepped out of my bedroom. At least someone in this house still had enough optimism to make a fresh pot. My sister definitely knew how to stay positive in fucked-up situations, which was one of the many things I loved about her.
As I clasped my earrings and headed to the kitchen, I noticed the television in the family room was still on.
Amelia, I chuckled to myself.
Not surprising at all.
Along with her relentless optimism, she had a habit of leaving on every light, television, and appliance in the state of California whenever she left a room.
I reached for my coffee mug beside the machine while half-listening to whatever was on the television.
“…New developments continue to emerge surrounding the arrest of billionaire hotel magnate Titus Hawk…”
I sighed. There was a reason I never turned on the news in my house, and that was before Titus was arrested. This was not what I needed before work.
I stepped into the living room, taking a sip of coffee, somewhat interested in the headlines now that they’d caught my attention.
The anchor appeared on screen next to a photo of Titus being escorted into the detention center by federal agents.
Jesus.
“The CEO remains in federal detention as investigators continue examining allegations tied to concealed corporate ownership structures and offshore entities reportedly dating back decades.”
My grip tightened around the mug as the anchor continued…
“Sources close to the investigation indicate prosecutors are exploring whether Hawk knowingly benefited from hidden business arrangements allegedly established by his late father, Herbert Hawk.”
Allegedly… reportedly… sources. In other words, nobody knew a goddamn thing. But hey… obviously it was a good fucking story, so why not keep the news cycle rolling with buzzwords?
The screen shifted to footage of Hawk Enterprise headquarters, then to photos of Titus, and then to footage of agents boarding his yacht.
“Disgusting,” I said to myself.
“The case has shocked investors and raised serious questions about whether one of the country’s previously most respected business leaders was aware of financial structures hidden within his own empire.”
Previously respected business leader, said in the past tense. It was pretty fucking amazing how quickly the media could convict someone.
Then another commentator appeared on screen.
“Even if Mr. Hawk didn’t create these entities himself, the larger question is whether someone in his position could realistically claim ignorance of them.”
I actually rolled my eyes at the reason he was arrested and at the fact that he was still in custody two weeks later, leaving news anchors with nothing to do but speculate and concoct conspiracy theories.
The commentator continued. “Critics argue that executives don’t merely overlook this kind of activity.”
Well, of course, the critics would chime in with their expert opinions, especially since every random person with an internet connection was now a financial crimes expert.
I walked across the room and grabbed the remote.
The commentator’s voice continued. “…If these allegations prove true, it could become one of the largest corporate-deception scandals in recent memory—”
“Goodbye,” I said, pointing and clicking the power button. “That is why I never watch the news.”
I was already in a shitty mood about what was happening, and I didn’t need the opinions of experts and critics to make it worse. I set the remote down and grabbed my keys.
This was the last thing I needed before driving to Melrose, another reminder that the entire world seemed determined to declare Titus guilty before anyone even bothered to prove it.
After a long day of booking events for clients returning from overseas at the end of summer, I welcomed the invitation to meet everyone at the rooftop lounge of Titus’s hotel, Horizon.
Honestly, I just wanted to catch up with Jim and Spencer before heading home to see if they had learned anything new or found another missing piece to this mess.
I was trying to stay hopeful, but I’d been hopeful last week, too, when I met them here with Nat and Avery, and Titus was still sitting in a cell in federal custody.
It was quite strange to be here, surrounded by Titus’s well-known luxurious taste, while he was in custody.
I sat beside Jim with a glass of wine as the city slowly lit up below us. Los Angeles stretched endlessly beyond the glass railing, thousands of lights shimmering below.
Somehow, the world kept moving as if nothing had happened.
“Any news?” I finally asked.
Nobody answered, which wasn’t encouraging. Spencer studied something on his phone. Wyatt and Colton looked exhausted. Jim closed his phone and leaned back.
“No,” he said, taking a sip of his bourbon.
I exhaled. “Fantastic.”
“We know Herbert created the entities,” Spencer added with a defeated grin.
“It feels like that’s all anyone knows,” Wyatt said, the light gone from his tired eyes.
“We know Titus didn’t,” Jim added.
“Then why does he have to stay in that place?” I asked, frustrated.
Colton rubbed his eyes. “Simple. The government doesn’t care what we believe.”
“We need proof that Titus didn’t know those structures still existed,” Wyatt said, taking a sip of his scotch.
“We just keep going in circles, saying the same damn thing,” Jim said, taking another drink.
“We need proof,” Colton said. “I just don’t know where to fucking look for it anymore.”
“Where’s Sebastian?” Spencer finally asked. “He said he has news…”
I sat up. “About Titus?”
“Yeah,” Jim said, glancing down at his phone. “Maybe he shows up, maybe he doesn’t.”
The conversation returned to the same loop of information that was getting these men and the attorneys nowhere.
It may have been better to just go home, but I truly didn’t want to be there. I wanted to hold on to the hope that tonight the guys had answers, the proof they needed to ensure Titus knew nothing about his father’s bullshit.
This had gone on for so long, and I was desperate to see a light at the end of this miserable tunnel.
“No fucking way?” Wyatt said, drawing my attention to the elevators, where Sebastian stepped out with another man at his side.
Colton turned. “Holy shit!”
The man beside Sebastian was tall, dark-haired, and sun-bronzed, wearing an untucked white linen shirt and jeans.
I had no idea who the man was, but he did share many of the same features as Sebastian and his brother, John.
Unlike Sebastian and John, however, this guy looked like he liked pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. The kind of man who spent his life sailing the South Pacific, frequenting tiki lounges, and refusing to take phone calls.
It was when he smiled that I saw the Aster family resemblance. He looked more like John than Sebastian, but the similarity was uncanny.
Wyatt stood. “Holy shit, man. Talk about a sight for sore fucking eyes.”
The man laughed, returning Wyatt’s handshake and clapping him on the arm, “How are you, you Spanish whore?”
Wyatt chuckled. “Some things never change, but from where we’ve all been sitting, you are the one who’s turned into the whore of the family.”
“I heard those were the stories told in my absence,” he said with a laugh, then looked at Colton, who stood next to Wyatt. He extended his hand. “Damn good to see you, Colt,” he said.
“You as well,” Colton replied politely. “Hell, after you fled your family and disappeared like a fugitive, I don’t think anyone ever expected to see your ass again.”
“That was the goal,” he said, prompting a laugh from Sebastian after they all took their seats around the table.
“This must be the runaway black sheep of the Aster family we’ve heard about,” Spencer said, turning to where the man sat at the head of the table. “I’m Spencer Monroe,” he introduced himself.
“Mark Aster,” he announced. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is James Mitchell,” Sebastian introduced him. “Jim, this is my younger brother Mark.”
Mark’s stark blue eyes fell on Jim. “Jim Mitchell,” he chuckled. “Seb was filling me in on the West Coast circle he’s playing in the sandbox with these days.”
Jim laughed and shook his hand, “He and your parents, if you can believe that.”
He smiled as Sebastian ordered them drinks. “Seb was also filling me in on how my parents are no longer the complete assholes they once were.”
“So that means you’ll be coming back into the family business,” Wyatt said with a smirk.
“Fuck that shit,” he answered. Then he looked at me, sitting where Colton was to my right, with an arm casually draped behind me. “I will say,” he looked at Colton, “I never imagined any of you Spanish boys settling down. Care to introduce me?”
The table reacted with muffled laughter. “This is Catalina Veléz,” Colton said with a grin. “Titus’s girlfriend.”
“Titus?” he said, taking a sip of his drink with a look of shock. “In a relationship?”
I chuckled in response. “Nice to meet you,” I said, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it across the table.
“The pleasure is mine, of course,” he said, glancing back at Sebastian. “Wow. Some things do change.”
“We were all just as surprised, but no more than Titus was when he stopped fighting his feelings for this one,” Colton said, sipping his drink with a wry expression.
“Where the hell have you been, man?” Wyatt asked.
“Well, despite what you may have heard, I wasn’t stranded on an island.”
“Damn, that was a good story and quite enjoyable to watch your parents squirm,” Wyatt muttered.
“I bet,” Mark grinned. “However, I think catch-up stories can wait,” he said, placing a thick leather folder on the table.
“I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours with Mark, going over the shit in that folder,” Sebastian’s voice cut through the silence. “I verified every source.”
Everyone on the rooftop fell completely still. Spencer slowly leaned forward as Jim’s expression hardened.
Wyatt and Colton’s lighter expressions grew serious as they exchanged a look.
“What is it?” Jim finally asked.
Sebastian looked toward Mark, and the man’s grin vanished. For the first time since arriving, the man looked serious.
Mark folded his hands together. “When word reached our media outlets and I saw the reasons Titus was arrested, something didn’t sit right with me.”
We all remained quiet while my pulse kicked up.
“I know a forensic investigator in Europe, and a few months ago he mentioned something unusual over drinks.” Mark looked at the folder, then back at the men at the table, and said, “He mentioned that a private client had hired multiple firms.”
Jim’s expression sharpened. “For what?”
Mark held his gaze. “To dig through decades of Hawk Enterprise records, including corporate structures, hidden ownership, dormant entities, and shell companies.”
“No shit,” Wyatt said as if he’d already known what Mark was implying.
“The client wanted everything connected to Herbert Hawk. At first, I didn’t think much of it.
Titus ran a clean business, and we knew that man had endlessly worked to clean up after his father’s shit.
But then I saw the poor bastard in cuffs for something his old man had hidden, and that’s when I went back to that conversation with my friend. ”
I felt my stomach tighten as Spencer slowly opened the file. I watched as he studied the first and second pages, and the color drained from his face on the third.
“What the hell is this?”
Mark leaned back. “The beginning of when this all started.”
Jim’s voice lowered. “Better question. Who hired your friend?”
Mark looked around the table. “That son of a bitch, Christian Jameston.”