Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Fifty-Five

Titus squinted at the mirror, making sure that his appearance looked as polished as it had only minutes ago, when he'd last checked. Running his tongue over teeth that had been brushed so hard they'd bled, he looked into the blue eyes that stared back at him. The black pupils reflected back the hotel's bright lights, making him once again notice the lack of life in his blue irises.

Flat with that red stain of popped vessels that could've only come from the lack of sleep he'd gotten last night, along with the four straight hours of tense driving – his left eye looked dead. Tired. Defeated. Its lifeless look resembled exactly that of his right, the two a pair that refused to cover their dull lacquer with feigned confidence.

It was the thing he needed the most, on this heated Texas day. Confidence was the one thing that would ensure he'd be taken seriously. That he wouldn't be turned down because of his lack of funds. That he'd get Charles Abbott's best, simply because of his intimidating stature.

Dressed in his best attire, he looked the serious kind of suitable, in which no argument could be brooked. All of it, even down to the freshly polished dress shoes, made him appear intimidating and in control. He'd picked out this attire on purpose. The pin-striped gray shirt, because it highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist. The black dress slacks, for with every step he took, the muscles in his legs shone through. Even the tie, a bright silver made of the finest material he'd ever laid eyes on, was all for this one meeting.

Running his hand over his jaw to check one last time for any signs of missed stubble that would hagger his appearance, he gave himself one more look over before turning on a refined, shoed heel and heading out his hotel door.

The same shoes pressed into the thin carpeting, silent until he entered the bleak stairwell. He went down the two, cemented flights with an ease that betrayed what was inside. But Titus didn't focus on it; instead, only giving the concierge a smile and walking out the glass doors as if he owned everything and every one.

That ownership, however, began to lose its power as soon as he set foot onto Carson city's clean sidewalk, feeling out of place in this big city where everything just came at him. Large, brick buildings surrounded him, smelling of the gas fumes that the street's cars expelled from polished mufflers. Looks were passed his way from both the men and women, some pondering, while others – the ones with the air of arrogance about them – dismissed.

A few people even took a few steps to the side. Titus silently thanked them, for they saw that he was a man on a mission. Back ramrod straight and sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled forearms, he was none other than just that – just a man who had come farther than he had ever imagined. Just another man out to protect his loved ones.

He controlled his expression to keep the cringe at bay, not wanting these people – scared of him or not – to see him weak. That was just what Anna did to him. Made him the weakest man on earth with one of those sweet smiles on her faces.

For not even a second, he debated about just going straight back to his hotel room, packing his things, and leaving to get back to her and Ella, but he hadn't come all this way for nothing. His hands tightened at his sides as remembered only a few hours ago, when he and Anna had been a sweaty mess on the floor.

She'd told him that he shouldn't go – begged with him, even, to stay with her and their daughter. He would never forget that look of betrayal that had entered her eyes when he'd opened the front door and left. It burned a heated path – even hotter than that of the sweltering sun overhead- all over his body, even as he entered the air conditioned building that was Hayes and Associates.

Walls painted a reserved beige encased the greeting area, the drab room highlighted by the dark brown upholstered chairs dotting it. The air itself, thick with an expensive scent, served as another particular detail that told Titus this was a whole different ball game. Not even the best of clothes could save him now.