Page 28 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

Fourteen

MATT

The door opened and Eddie stepped in, flanked by two men whose sharp suits and deferential postures spoke of their trade’s high caliber.

“Boss, the item you requested—it’s ready,” Eddie announced with a hint of pride.

Matt rose and strode over to the plush sofa at the edge of his office.

He settled into the cushions as the jeweler and his assistant approached.

The assistant carefully placed a sleek case on the coffee table before him and began to reveal its contents: smaller cases, each holding its own promise of elegance.

With a flourish, the lids were lifted, revealing exquisite chokers crafted from supple leather and adorned with gleaming gold accents. The craftsmanship was impeccable, each piece a work of art that spoke of luxury and refinement.

Matt’s gaze swept over the offerings, his discerning eye appraising every detail. Finally, his attention settled on one particular choker, its elegance and simplicity captivating him. He could already envision it adorning Andy’s slender neck.

“That one,” Matt said, pointing at his choice.

“Excellent choice,” murmured the jeweler.

With a nod from Matt, the deal was sealed. The men packed away the remaining chokers and left with Eddie trailing behind them. Alone now, Matt allowed himself a moment to admire the chosen piece before slipping it into his desk drawer for safekeeping.

He rose from the sofa, locking away thoughts of leather and gold as he made for the door.

Moments later, Matt paused at the penthouse doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the frame as his gaze landed on Andy hunched over his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard.

The sight was one of focused dedication, a testament to the young man’s determination.

The gentle click-clack of keys punctuated the room’s silence.

With a stretch that spoke of long hours in the same position, Andy finally noticed his observer. “Don’t you have anything better to do than lurk in doorways?” Andy chided without heat, an eyebrow arching in playful reproach.

A chuckle rumbled in Matt’s chest as he sauntered into the room, closing the distance between them. He leaned over Andy’s shoulder, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. “Feeling better, I see,” Matt remarked, noting the fervor with which Andy attacked his work.

Andy tilted his head back to meet Matt’s gaze, their faces mere inches apart. “I’m sore everywhere,” he grumbled, “thanks to a certain sneaky bastard who can’t keep his hands—or other parts—to himself while I’m sleeping.”

The accusation did little to wipe the smirk from Matt’s face. “Sneaky? Perhaps,” he conceded with another low chuckle. “But let’s not pretend there was any objection—your body was quite… enthusiastic about the early morning attention.”

A flush spread across Andy’s cheeks at the reminder of their intimate dawn encounter. He opened his mouth to retort but found words tangled in a knot of embarrassment.

“Close that laptop,” Matt instructed smoothly. “We’ve got shopping to do.”

Andy raised an eyebrow in question, skepticism lacing his features. “Shopping?”

“Yes, for clothes,” Matt said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t possibly allow my favorite pet to wander about in rags, now can I?”

Half an hour later, the chime of the high-end boutique’s entrance bell heralded their arrival, a melodic announcement that turned every well-coiffed head in the establishment.

Matt strolled into the luxury fashion store, a place where the air smelled of money and the hangers clinked like champagne flutes.

Andy shuffled in his wake, a reluctant comet tailing a planet’s assured orbit.

As if summoned by some silent, affluent alarm, the manager emerged from the depths of silken garments and designer labels. He scurried toward Matt, his smile as polished as the marble floors beneath their feet.

“Mr. Caine, what an absolute pleasure,” the manager effused, hand extended like a drawbridge lowering for royalty.

Matt accepted the handshake with practiced ease, then draped an arm around Andy’s shoulders, pulling him forward. “We’re in need of a wardrobe update for my friend here,” Matt declared, nodding toward Andy. “Only your finest.”

The manager’s eyes flickered over Andy, appraising him with an expert’s calculation. “Of course,” he agreed, snapping his fingers to summon a retinue of eager assistants.

As assistants fluttered around Andy with measuring tapes and whispered suggestions, Matt claimed a leather chair that offered an unobstructed view of the changing area. From this throne, he watched Andy transform with each change of attire.

One after another, outfits draped over Andy’s frame—each piece seemingly more flattering than the last. The clothes didn’t make the man; however, they had a curious way of highlighting what was already there—a certain defiant elegance that was all Andy Donovan.

A particular suit caught Matt’s attention as Andy stepped out in it—a tailor-made creation that hugged his lithe body like it was born there. Matt let out a low whistle, approval etched across his features.

Andy rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t start,” he warned but posed nonetheless—a lion pretending annoyance while preening under attention.

By the time Andy emerged in a sleek white shirt paired with dark pants that seemed to grasp onto his hips with possessive intent, Matt found himself entranced. The clothing was a second skin; it didn’t just fit—it belonged.

“Damn,” Matt murmured under his breath as Andy approached. He rose from his seat and closed the distance between them. “I think Vegas might not be ready for this.”

Andy scoffed but there was no mistaking the flush on his cheeks or how he stood just a touch taller under Matt’s gaze.

With bags in hand and an air of triumph surrounding them both, they exited the boutique—the manager bowing lower than before—heading toward their next destination: dinner at a place where only those as resplendent as they were now would not be out of place.

T he restaurant buzzed with a low hum of murmured conversations and the clink of fine china, but Matt’s attention was riveted on the young man across from him.

Andy, newly adorned in tailored elegance, looked nothing short of stunning.

The clothes had transformed him, elevating his natural defiance into an art form of casual elegance.

Andy forked a delicate piece of seared scallop into his mouth, his eyes briefly meeting Matt’s before returning to his plate.

The soft lighting danced over his features, accentuating the smooth planes of his cheeks and the sensual curve of his neck.

Matt’s gaze lingered there, on that slender column, imagining how it would look encircled by the choker he’d selected earlier.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

His gaze trailed upward, settling on Andy’s lips as they parted to welcome another bite. A dollop of cream lingered momentarily before being swept away by a flicker of tongue, and Matt felt a primal stirring within him that was as inconvenient as it was undeniable.

His mind flashed back to yesterday evening—Andy had risen to the challenge Matt had thrown down—a taunt that had been met with a fiery response.

Andy’s mouth had been on his nipples—lips, tongue, and teeth marking him in a way that had made his toes curl deliciously.

The heat of that mouth had been intoxicating and maddingly erotic, though he had played it cool, pretending it hadn’t affected him.

Now Matt imagined those same lips trailing lower, bringing him to life in the most intimate of ways, and he couldn’t deny the heat rising within him.

Matt let his eyes wander from Andy’s neck to those plush lips again—lips that were now parted slightly as he savored another bite.

Heat crept up his neck as he allowed himself to entertain the thought—Andy on his knees before him, looking up through those long lashes with eyes darkened by desire, his mouth around his cock.

Matt imagined the warmth and pressure as Andy’s mouth moved over him with that same fervor.

His breath hitched at the thought, desire coiling tightly in his belly.

The need to return to the house pulsed through him like a second heartbeat. He wanted Andy in every way possible and wanted it now. He forced himself to take a calming breath, lest he drag Andy out of there right this second.

Andy glanced up again, catching Matt’s intense stare.

“You’re staring,” Andy said.

Matt didn’t bother denying it; what would be the point? “Just appreciating my investment,” he replied smoothly, though his voice was thicker than usual.

Andy’s response came swift, laced with the kind of wit that sparked like flint against steel. “This investment,” he said, tipping his chin up in a challenge that was all too familiar, “has had enough of being admired.”

Matt’s lips curled into a half smile, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Noted,” he replied, leaning back in his chair.

He lifted his glass of wine and took a slow sip, the liquid warming him as much as the sight of Andy’s fiery spirit.

The young man’s sass was part of what made him so enticing—like a puzzle that promised satisfaction with every piece snapped into place.

Dinner couldn’t end soon enough. Matt paid the check with a swiftness that bordered on impatience, and before long, they were back in the penthouse.

Without wasting a moment, Matt reached for Andy, his hands firm and insistent.

He had intentions of efficiency—or so he’d claim—when he guided Andy toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Andy’s voice was a blend of surprise and that delightful defiance Matt relished.

“We’re saving time,” Matt declared, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Andy’s protest was a symphony to his ears. “Wait, we can shower separately?—”