Page 73 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
Ethan shot me a betrayed look that clearly said ‘ Et tu , Andy?’ before mumbling something incoherent and shaking his head at the waiter who appeared with another bottle. “I think… I think I’m good with water for the rest of the night.”
“Wise choice,” Tory approved, his fingers brushing Ethan’s arm in a touch that could have been accidental but definitely wasn’t. “Though I do have plenty of guest rooms if needed. Egyptian cotton sheets and everything—you remember how soft they are, don’t you?”
Fin seized his chance like a cat pouncing on a mouse. “You know, Tory, we might need a designated driver. I’m honestly the worst driver this side of the Mississippi—like a cat trying to operate a washing machine. And clearly, my dear brother here is in no state to drive.”
“He’s not exaggerating,” I chimed in, happy to pile on. “Last time Fin drove, we ended up three states over. And that was just trying to find a Starbucks.”
“That was one time!” Fin protested with a laugh. “Besides, my navigation skills aren’t the point here. The point is that my brother and I need a ride home, and Tory just happens to have a very nice car with very comfortable seats.”
“And a very comfortable penthouse,” Tory added smoothly, making Ethan’s face achieve a shade of red previously unknown to science.
“I hate all of you,” Ethan muttered into his water glass, but there was a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth even as he tried to maintain his mortified expression.
Trapped in the crossfire of Tory’s relentless charm and the certainty of Fin’s future ribbing, he was a lamb to the slaughter in the world’s most awkward petting zoo.
“No, you don’t,” Tory said softly, his voice carrying that hint of genuine affection that made Ethan’s breath catch. “You actually quite like me, if I remember your sleep-talking correctly.”
Ethan sank lower in his chair, trying to disappear entirely—which was about as effective as a chameleon in a disco. Just when I thought he might actually dissolve into the floorboards, William decided to play knight in shining Armani.
“Tory,” William chided, his eyes gleaming with amusement, “don’t you think you’ve tormented him enough? You know as well as I do that anyone lacking experience—or a thick skin—can’t handle your level of banter.”
James nodded in agreement, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Some folks need a gentler touch.”
Tory heaved a sigh that could’ve been scripted for Broadway and placed a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded. “You wound me, gentlemen. And here I thought I was being the soul of discretion.”
Mia and Savannah erupted into giggles at his theatrics, the sound as refreshing as wind chimes in a gentle breeze.
Time slipped past us like a well-dressed thief until eleven p.m. rolled around.
Fin, now resembling Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, juggled an armful of takeaway bags filled with gastronomic treasures—lobsters that had seen more luxury than most humans, fish that swam in gilded seas, and steaks that had likely been massaged daily.
Ethan swayed slightly—not drunk, just destabilized by Tory’s gravitational pull.
“Well, we can’t have our Ethan here attempting to navigate Vegas at this hour,” Tory declared with a theatrical flourish that would’ve made Shakespeare proud. “I insist on escorting you both back to your apartment. My car’s right downstairs.”
Ethan’s face performed an impressive dance between panic and pleasure, like someone who’d just won a trip to paradise but was terrified of flying. “You don’t… I mean, we couldn’t…” he stammered, while his eyes said something entirely different.
“Take care of him,” Fin urged, balancing his food bounty with the skill of a circus performer. “He can’t walk straight. And I’ve got my hands full with enough food to feed an army—or me for a week, whichever comes first.”
“He can walk just fine,” I quipped. “It’s just his moral compass that’s spinning.”
They departed into the night like two adventurers embarking on an epic quest—though one burdened with takeout and the other with unspoken feelings.
William and Savannah made their graceful exit shortly after, followed by James whisking Mia away to their suite like some kind of nocturnal fairy-tale prince.
Finally alone with Matt, I caught the tail end of that electrifying gaze before he turned to me with concern etched into every handsome line of his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I managed through a yawn that betrayed my bravado. “Just tired.”
“You did just get discharged from the hospital,” Matt reminded me, his voice soft but firm. “You’re still healing. We’ll have an early night.”
I pouted dramatically—a skill I’d perfected over many years. “But what about that thing you promised earlier?” I asked, trying to sound seductive but probably achieving something closer to sleepy kitten. “You know, the thing involving less clothes and more… everything else?”
Matt chuckled—a sound that wrapped around me like warm velvet—and brushed a kiss atop my head. “There’s always tomorrow,” he promised.