Page 46 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
He moved closer, his presence enveloping me in an invisible embrace. His cologne wafted over me—spicy and intoxicating—and his proximity radiated warmth like a sunlamp.
“Ever considered switching sugar daddies?” His smile was sensual, dripping with confidence.
I glared at him, channeling every ounce of sass I had in me. “Maybe if you can offer something better and handle all this.” I gestured to myself dramatically. “But honestly? Doubt you have anything on my man—especially in the bedroom.”
He burst out laughing, a deep, rich sound that resonated through the night air. “Touché,” he said, still chuckling.
The man leaned in close, so close I could count the flecks of green in his eyes. His proximity invaded my personal bubble with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. My glare sharpened, ready to skewer him on the spot.
“Mind the space, buddy. I need room to breathe,” I snapped, my voice dripping with enough frost to cool the desert heat.
He just chuckled, the sound dark and smooth like aged whiskey. “So adorable,” he murmured, almost to himself. “No wonder Matt’s smitten. You must have him wrapped around your little finger like a puppet.”
I bristled at that. “First off, nobody’s pulling strings here,” I retorted. “And second, do you even know Matt?”
His smile widened, an amused glint in his eye. “Everyone knows the King of Sin City.”
Before I could toss another barbed comment his way, a throat cleared—a sound that cut through our conversation. Matt’s voice rolled over us, calm yet edged with a note of possession that sent shivers down my spine.
“Mark, stop toying with Andy.”
I turned to see Matt striding toward us, and I heard him mutter under his breath, “And here I thought it’d be Tory I had to worry about, not you, Mark Sinclair.”
My eyebrow arched involuntarily as I took in the figure before me.
Mark Sinclair. The name was synonymous with a certain mystique in Vegas, his reputation whispered like a prayer by those who wished they could rub elbows with him.
And here he was, gracing the balcony with his presence, a rare sighting akin to witnessing a comet streak across the sky.
Mark Sinclair was striking in a way that seemed almost unfair to mortal men.
His jawline was sharp enough to sculpt marble, his skin tanned to perfection, kissed by the sun itself.
His hair, dark and thick, styled with effortless precision, framed a face that could’ve been chiseled by the hands of a passionate artist obsessed with symmetry.
His eyes, emerald pools of charisma, held a spark that could ignite fires or thaw hearts.
And when he smiled, it was less a grin and more a silent challenge—an invitation to either step up or step aside.
“Matt,” Mark said with a nod that was more king to king than friend to friend. “You’ve got one sassy little pet. Must be fun at home.”
The words carried a double meaning that had heat creeping up my neck.
Matt’s response was tinged with amusement. “Oh, it’s a riot, but you’ll have to find your own. Andy’s off-limits.”
Mark’s eyes met mine, and there was an unspoken understanding—a boundary drawn not out of hostility but mutual respect among friends. “Understood,” he said with a nod. Turning his gaze back to me, he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Andy.” And then, just like that, he melted back into the crowd.
Left alone with Matt, I couldn’t help but ask, “So are you done schmoozing with the billionaires and millionaires?”
Matt gave me a look that was half-apology, half-charm. “It’s just protocol,” he assured me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel lonely.”
I snorted, my eyes scanning the lavish spread before us once more. “Lonely? Please. I’m having quite the affair with this view—and let’s not forget about my steamy rendezvous with the food.”
A soft chuckle escaped Matt as he took a seat next to me on the balcony’s plush furnishing.
Without warning, he captured my lips in a soft kiss that sent a shiver down my spine.
“I’ll make it up to you when we get home,” he whispered against my mouth.
“For now, just hang on tight—I know my little pet is craving some affection.”
Heat crept up my cheeks at his words, turning them a shade that could rival the neon lights below us. “You should go back,” I managed to say between heated breaths. “Make your connections.”
Matt burst out laughing—a sound that filled the night air—and after planting another kiss on my lips that promised worlds yet unexplored, he stood up and disappeared back into the throng of guests.
T he clock struck midnight, and Tory’s penthouse had devolved into a hazy, opulent blur.
Matt and I slipped out of the party, the revelry behind us fading into a hum.
On our way out, I couldn’t help but peek into one of the guest rooms where Tory had arranged for those who overindulged to crash.
There was Ethan, sprawled across the bed like a fallen angel, cheeks flushed with more than just sleep.
Poor guy must’ve been drowning his nerves in liquid courage all night—nerves jangled by being in his crush’s castle.
And then there was Fin. He couldn’t drive—something about him behind a wheel was akin to a demolition derby—so he’d hitched a ride.
And who with? Mark Sinclair of all people.
My mind boggled at the thought. If anyone could hold their own with Vegas royalty, it was Fin.
The guy could charm the scales off a snake if he put his mind to it.
As for me, my eyes were glued to Matt all night as he navigated the crowd like a shark through open waters—effortlessly commanding, impossibly sexy. Watching him work the room sent a thrill straight to my core, stoking a fire that was all too eager to burn out of control.
Now, hand in hand with Matt as we made our way to our waiting car, every nerve ending was alight with anticipation. His touch was electric, sparking fantasies that made walking in a straight line an exercise in willpower.
We reached the car when suddenly Matt tensed up beside me—a predator sensing danger in the calm. His grip on my hand tightened imperceptibly as his gaze shot across the parking lot to where a pack of blacked-out cars idled ominously.
In one fluid motion, Matt whispered something to Eddie that had him springing into action. Like a well-oiled machine, his men mobilized, their movements sharp and calculated.
The black cars revved to life, tires screeching against concrete as they peeled away into the night. Matt’s men were quick on their tail, slipping into their own vehicles and giving chase.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level despite the palpable shift in atmosphere.
Matt glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Get in the car,” he said. “My men will handle it.”
And just like that, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
If Matt said it was under control, then I had no reason to doubt him.
He was a man who knew how to handle his business.
So, with one last glance at the now-empty space where those ominous cars had been, I slid into the plush interior of our ride.
Tyrone shut the door with a soft thud, sealing me inside with Matt and all my unanswered questions. Security threat? Probably. It wasn’t exactly unheard of in Matt’s line of work.
As the engine purred to life and we started moving, Matt’s eyes softened. He reached over and brushed a stray hair from my forehead with a tenderness that made my heart stutter. His fingers trailed down my cheek, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
“You couldn’t take your eyes off me all night,” he observed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
Caught red-handed. But hell if I was going to back down now. “Can you blame me?” I shot back, feeling my cheeks heat up despite my bravado. “You looked too damn sexy.”
Matt chuckled—a deep sound that vibrated through the confined space of the car. “So I’m sexy?” he murmured softly, leaning closer until our lips were just a whisper apart.
I could only nod before his mouth captured mine in a kiss that stole every thought from my head.
It was everything I’d been waiting for—the heat, the urgency, the unspoken promise of more.
My arms found their way around his neck as if they had their own magnetic pull, drawing him closer until there was no space left between us.
Heat pooled in my belly, spreading outward as our kiss grew more fervent.
My hands threaded through his hair, tugging slightly as our tongues danced together in an intimate rhythm.
Every touch ignited sparks of desire that threatened to consume me whole.
The world outside could have been burning for all I cared; right now, it was just us.
Our breaths mingled as we pulled away briefly before diving back in, lost in the intoxicating taste of each other.
The passion between us was palpable, an electric current that hummed through every nerve ending.
All I wanted was to stay like this forever—lost in Matt’s embrace, where nothing else mattered but the searing heat of our connection.
I could feel Matt’s breath against my lips, a tantalizing whisper of what was to come.
Our tongues tangled, each movement a dance that set my pulse racing.
I was in deep, craving more, drowning in the intensity of his kiss.
When Matt pulled back, it wasn’t to catch his breath—it was to claim new territory. His lips found my throat, and oh, the feel of his tongue on my skin sent shivers rocketing down my spine. He gave a light suck that dragged a groan from deep within me, a sound that was part confession, part plea.
Matt’s hand slid down my body, fingers grazing the outline of my erection through the fabric. I ground myself against his touch like a cat demanding affection, desperate for more friction. His chuckle vibrated against my skin.
“You’re so cute when you’re this wanton,” he murmured.