Page 10 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
Seven
ANDY
“ W ear something nice?” I muttered to myself, the corners of my mouth lifting in a smirk.
The idea was laughable. My wardrobe was a collection of functional basics, none of which would pass as nice in the high-roller world Matt inhabited.
My entire life was stuffed into those two beaten duffel bags his goons hauled over earlier.
I was about to dive back into coding when the sleek new smartphone caught my eye.
A surge of rebellion itched at my fingertips, urging me to smash this one against the wall too.
But sanity prevailed. As much as destroying Matt’s fancy gifts would bring me petty satisfaction, I did need a working phone—not just for potential job leads, but to check in on Mia, although I could always contact her via email or WhatsApp, which we often did.
I picked up the phone and started punching in Mia’s numbers from memory, followed by Finley, my best friend, Ethan, Finley’s older brother who was like a brother to me, and of course, Sean’s and a few other contacts.
Numbers had always stuck in my mind, a quirk that helped me take to coding like a duck to water when I started teaching myself through online tutorials.
Programming was my lifeline, my path to clawing my way out of this mess and building something for myself.
I ran a hand across my throat, still feeling the ghost of Matt’s grip from earlier.
The image of a dog collar flickered through my mind, and an involuntary shudder coursed through me.
Shaking off the discomfort, I refocused on the screen before me, diving back into lines of code that offered a temporary escape.
Hours slipped by unnoticed until the buzz of the new phone snapped me back to reality. No prizes for guessing who it was: Matt, with his dinner summons. Get ready, the message read, as if I had an arsenal of outfits at my disposal.
A grunt of frustration escaped me. He wasn’t going to give me a moment’s peace, was he? Reluctantly, I closed my laptop and trudged to the bathroom. The hot water did little to wash away the tension coiled in my muscles.
Back in the bedroom, I stared at my limited wardrobe. Jeans and a shirt, same as always. If Matt had expected me to dress up like some doll for his amusement, he was going to be sorely disappointed. With deliberate defiance, I pulled on my usual clothes and ran a hand through my hair.
“Let’s see what Mr. High-and-Mighty thinks of this,” I muttered under my breath as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
At seven on the dot, as if the guy had a military timekeeper bolted to his spine, Matt walked through the door.
He cast a look my way that pulled at the corners of his mouth in an annoying smirk.
No words, just that smug expression as he sized up my less-than-fancy attire.
It irked me that he didn’t comment, as if my choice of jeans and a shirt was exactly what he expected and it wasn’t worth acknowledging.
“Let’s go,” was all he said, pivoting on his heel with the expectation I’d fall in step behind him.
And there I was, trailing after him like a pup dogging the heels of its emperor of a master.
We strode along the hotel’s opulent corridor, my sneakers silent against the plush carpeting while his footsteps clicked with authority.
It wasn’t long before we arrived at a restaurant so fancy it probably had its own dress code for the silverware.
The ma?tre d’ practically sprinted over to us, all but bowing as he greeted Matt with a reverence that bordered on worship. “Mr. Caine, what an honor to have you with us this evening.”
They exchanged pleasantries while I hovered awkwardly to the side like an accessory that didn’t match the outfit.
The ma?tre d’ then led us through a maze of tables where the diners were decked out to the nines.
Each step we took felt like a spotlight on my very normal clothes, and I could feel my cheeks heat up despite my irritation.
We were shown to a table with a view that could steal your breath if you weren’t careful.
The twinkling lights of Vegas spread out before us like jewels scattered across velvet.
As I took my seat across from Matt, I caught more than a few curious glances aimed our way—mostly at him, though.
Not surprising, given that he looked like he’d stepped out of one of those glossy men’s magazines.
I couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle as I leaned back in my chair. “So, is this typical billionaire behavior? Bringing your captive out to wine and dine in high style?” I asked, unable to resist a jab at the absurdity of the situation.
Matt’s eyes lit up with amusement—a look I was quickly learning meant trouble—and his chuckle resonated richly in the space between us.
“And here I thought you’d appreciate a little taste of the finer things, pup.
I did think about chaining you up in a dungeon, but that seemed a bit cliché.
Besides, this place has better ambiance. ”
“Ambiance, right,” I said. “And here I thought it was just about flaunting your wealth.”
He smirked. “Flaunting? This is me being modest.”
“Sure,” I shot back. “Next you’ll tell me the chef here doesn’t even need to use salt because his tears from laughing at the prices season the food just fine.”
Matt chuckled, a rich sound that only annoyed me more. “You’re witty for someone in debt up to their eyeballs.”
“Well, it’s either laugh or cry,” I replied. “And I’ve already done enough of the latter.”
A waiter appeared with a bottle of deep red wine that probably cost more than my last month’s rent. He poured a sample for Matt’s approval, who gave a slight nod after swirling and sipping the vintage. The waiter then filled our glasses, the rich liquid sloshing gently.
I watched Matt take another appreciative sip before turning his attention back to me. “I take it your palate isn’t quite so… refined?”
Gripping the stem of the glass, I lifted it in a mocking toast. “You know what they say—can’t buy class.”
His eyes glinted with amusement at my quip. “Luckily, I’ve got enough money to make up for it.”
We continued our back-and-forth volley, his cool confidence sparring against my indignant barbs. Part of me wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but another part… enjoyed the charged banter, the thrill of aiming to get under his skin the way he so effortlessly got under mine.
The waiter returned, looking slightly flustered from our verbal sparring match. “Are you ready to order, Mr. Caine?”
Matt gestured for me to go first. “Ladies first.”
I shot him a withering look before snatching up the menu and scanning the exorbitant prices with a smirk. When I found the most expensive item, a ridiculously lavish surf and turf, I looked up at Matt with challenge in my eyes.
“I’ll have the Wagyu,” I declared.
Matt’s gaze was steady, but I could have sworn I saw his lips twitch with a hint of a smile. “You sure that’s going to be enough to fill that bottomless pit you call a stomach?”
I leaned back with a smug smile of my own. “Who says that’s all I’m ordering?” I turned back to the waiter. “I’ll also have the lobster thermidor, the foie gras appetizer, and… let’s throw in that fancy caviar thing too.”
The waiter’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Matt, on the other hand, looked annoyingly amused. “Trying to bankrupt me?”
“Just taking advantage of your hospitality,” I said sweetly.
The waiter furiously scribbled our orders on his notepad before scurrying off like he was escaping a wildfire. Matt shook his head in amusement.
“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “for someone who hates being here, you certainly know how to enjoy yourself.”
I met his gaze evenly. “If I’m stuck in your gilded cage, I might as well enjoy the perks.”
It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. The spread before me could’ve fed a small army or one ravenous twenty-year-old who had been living on instant noodles and dreams. I didn’t hesitate, diving into the lobster thermidor like it was my last meal on earth.
Across from me, Matt watched me with an expression caught between amusement and fascination, as if I were some rare species he’d discovered in the wild. “I take it the food meets your exacting standards?”
I swallowed a mouthful before replying, “It’ll do, I suppose. Though I have to say, the caviar’s a bit pedestrian. I prefer mine sourced from albino sturgeons raised in the tears of unicorns.”
He chuckled, cutting into his own meal with practiced elegance. “I’ll have to remember that for next time. Tell me, Andy, how did you learn to code? You seem quite proficient for someone so young.”
I paused, a chunk of lobster halfway to my mouth.
“Online,” I said with a shrug. “There’s this magical place called the internet, filled with more knowledge than your fancy library here.
” I gestured around us for emphasis before continuing.
“No silver spoon for me. No Ivy League dreams—just me, my laptop, and a truckload of YouTube tutorials.”
Matt nodded, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
I felt my cheeks heat up at the unexpected compliment, a weird flutter in my stomach that I quickly attributed to indigestion. Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “So, when does Mr. Maxwell want his money back? How am I supposed to go about that? Is he going to come see me himself?”
Matt’s expression turned serious. “James is busy. He’ll deal with that two million in his own way. For now, you just have to stay put.”
I felt my earlier good mood evaporate. “Stay put? What am I, a houseplant?”
“Think of it more as a… temporary arrangement,” Matt replied smoothly.
I stabbed at my lobster with more force than necessary. “Great. So I’m just supposed to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while my debt grows like some financial Frankenstein’s monster?”