Page 102 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

“Andy Donovan.” Xavier Kingsley’s smooth voice filled my ear, cultured and amused like we were at a charity gala instead of in the middle of a kidnapping crisis. “I hope I’m not interrupting your beauty sleep. Though from what I hear, you could use it.”

I sat up so fast my head spun, Matt’s oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder. “How did you get this number?”

His laugh was rich with amusement, the kind that probably made board members nervous and shareholders reach for their wallets. “Please. I’m a tech mogul. Getting a phone number is child’s play. Like taking candy from a baby, if the baby was using a ridiculously outdated firewall.”

“What do you want?” My fingers clutched the phone tighter, knuckles white.

Through the bedroom door, I could still hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing search operation—voices raised in urgent discussion, phones ringing, the constant tap of keyboards.

The sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets that still smelled faintly of Matt’s cologne.

“To help find Matt.” His voice turned serious, dropping the playful tone like a discarded mask. “I know he’s been taken.”

“And why would you want to help?” I couldn’t keep the suspicion from my voice, pacing the length of the bedroom. “Last I checked, you two weren’t exactly sharing friendship bracelets.”

“Let’s just say I have information you need.” Xavier paused, perfectly timed for dramatic effect. The man probably practiced these conversations in a mirror. “Though, of course, nothing comes for free in Vegas. Not even good deeds.”

My stomach clenched, doing that uncomfortable flip thing it did whenever someone was about to complicate my life. “What do you want?”

“A favor. To be collected later.” I could hear the smile in his voice, like a cat who’d not only got the cream but had managed to frame the dog for the theft. “Nothing too dramatic. No hotels or casinos involved, I promise. I’m not trying to build an empire here.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring. In fact, that’s about as reassuring as a shark promising it just wants a quick chat.”

“And yet you’re still listening.” Keys clicked in the background, a rapid-fire staccato of purpose. “I know who took Matt.”

My breath caught, heart doing that gymnastics routine again. “Who?”

“Lucas Porter.” The name dropped like a stone in still water, ripples of implications spreading outward. “And before you ask how I know, let’s just say I’ve had my people watching him for… reasons.”

“Why would you be watching Porter?” The pieces started coming together in my head like a particularly ominous jigsaw puzzle.

“Unless… wait, is he stalking Matt? And you noticed because you’re also playing Billionaire Big Brother with Matt’s life?

Ha! I knew there was a reason you always happened to be at every event he attends. You’re into him too!”

Xavier’s laugh cut me off, rich and genuine this time. “Oh, darling, no. Matt’s not my type at all. Too tall, too brooding, too… Matt. I prefer them smaller, feistier. More… golden. Like a particularly adorable Labrador puppy with hacking skills.”

The penny dropped with enough force to dent the floor. “Ryan.”

“Smart boy. I can see why Matt keeps you around.” More clicking, probably coordinating some elaborate tech-billionaire scheme. “Now, shall we discuss Porter’s current location? I’m heading to the penthouse. And Andy?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember, you owe me one.”

I ran a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, probably making it worse. “As long as it’s nothing illegal or impossible?—”

“Nothing like that. Just… personal. Though your definition of illegal might need some flexibility.”

My eyes narrowed. “This is about Ryan, isn’t it? Because if you’re planning some elaborate tech-mogul courtship ritual involving stolen satellites or reprogrammed billboards?—”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up before I could finish my totally reasonable concerns about Ryan’s future safety and the integrity of national security systems.

I stared at the phone, torn between hope and wariness. On one hand, we had a lead. On the other hand, I’d just potentially sold Ryan’s soul to the devil who probably had the GDP of a small country in his checking account.

“Sorry, Ryan,” I muttered, climbing out of bed and heading for the shower. “But needs must when the devil drives. Or in this case, when the devil knows where your kidnapped boyfriend is and has probably already hacked your Spotify playlist to learn your music preferences.”

Time to face the chaos again. And maybe warn Ryan to update his security settings. And possibly invest in a bunker. With very good Wi-Fi, of course. He was still a Caine, after all.

I took the world’s fastest shower, probably setting some kind of record.

My hair was still damp when I emerged from the bathroom, tugging on a pair of jeans and one of Matt’s t-shirts that hung on me like a designer tent.

The fabric still smelled like him, a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely Matt that made my chest ache.

“Back to bed.” Ryan materialized in front of me like some kind of sleep-deprived ninja, his inside-out shirt now sporting not just coffee stains but what looked suspiciously like donut powder. “It’s been what, four hours?”

“Xavier’s coming over.” I ducked around him, heading for the living room where the command center was still in full swing. “He knows where Matt is.”

The reaction was immediate. James’ head snapped up from his position at the dining table, his phone forgotten mid-conversation.

William stopped his restless pacing, pale-blue eyes sharp with interest. Tory pushed away from the window where he’d been conferring with his men in rapid Japanese.

Daniel paused in his quiet conversation with their parents—who were apparently somewhere over the Pacific—while Jeremy stopped stress-eating his way through a box of donuts—explaining Ryan’s powder situation.

Ryan froze mid-step, nearly colliding with a side table. “Please tell me Xavier didn’t go full psycho and kidnap Matt because he’s got some weird billionaire crush on him? Because I swear to God, if this is some twisted tech mogul courtship ritual?—”

“That’s not Xavier’s style,” Tory cut in smoothly from his position by the windows, his dark eyes calculating. “He’s more… subtle. The type to reprogram your smart home to play love songs, not resort to kidnapping.”

“It’s Porter,” I said, watching their reactions ripple through the room. “Lucas Porter.”

“The invisible Palmer exec?” Ryan’s eyes widened, a smear of donut powder on his chin. “The one who follows Matt around like a lost puppy at board meetings?”

Daniel murmured something into his phone, probably updating their parents, while Jeremy abandoned his donuts entirely—a sure sign of how serious this was.

The penthouse doors swung open before I could respond.

Xavier strode in like he owned the place, which, given his net worth, he probably could have.

His emerald eyes swept the room, taking in the organized chaos, before landing on Ryan.

I didn’t miss how his expression softened for a fraction of a second or how Ryan unconsciously straightened his inside-out shirt.

Ryan practically bounced over to him, trailing donut powder. “Is it really Porter? That quiet guy who always sits in the corner taking notes?”

“Not so quiet, actually.” Xavier pulled out a tablet, his fingers dancing across the screen.

The morning light caught his perfectly styled dark hair, making me wonder if tech billionaires had personal hairdressers on call twenty-four seven.

“I remember him from MIT. Something seemed… off. So I had my people look into him, keep an eye on things.”

“And?” James’ voice cut through the tension, every inch the commanding presence that made casino high-rollers nervous.

“And Porter’s got quite the history.” Xavier’s face hardened, his usual smooth charm replaced by something colder.

“Three restraining orders under different names. Two suspicious fires at properties owned by his… objects of interest. He’s obsessed with powerful men, follows them, studies them.

And he’s had his sights set on Matt since MIT. ”

Daniel’s phone clattered to the table. “Mom, I’ll call you back.” He hung up, face pale. “You’re sure?”

“Where is he?” I demanded, frustration bubbling up. “Where’s Matt?”

Xavier’s lips curved into that infuriating knowing smile. “My men are already in position.” He turned his tablet around, showing a detailed map. “The old Silverton warehouse complex. Abandoned, isolated, perfect for keeping someone hidden.”

“I know it,” James said sharply, already moving. The rest of the room burst into action like a well-oiled machine. “Eddie, get the teams?—”

“Already moving.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” I started for the door, but James caught my arm, his grip firm but gentle.

“Andy—”

“Don’t.” I met his eyes, seeing the same worry and determination I felt reflected there. “Don’t tell me to stay here. Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous. Don’t?—”

“I was going to say grab a jacket,” James cut in smoothly. “It gets cold in those warehouses.”

Ryan snorted, wiping donut powder from his chin. “Like you’d be able to stop him anyway. He’s got that same stubborn look Matt gets when someone tells him no.”

“Must be genetic,” Xavier murmured, his eyes lingering on Ryan in a way that made me think we might be dealing with another billionaire romance in the near future.

“It’s not genetic if they’re not actually related yet,” Tory pointed out helpfully.

As we headed for the elevator, I caught Ryan watching Xavier with a mixture of curiosity and something else.

Daniel was back on the phone with their parents, his voice low and reassuring, while Jeremy fiddled nervously with his empty donut box.

William and James were already coordinating with their security teams, their voices sharp with purpose.