Page 88 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? Like you’re some tiny bug that landed in his hundred-dollar wine.” Ryan grabbed our drinks. “But not this time. Nobody messes with my future brother-in-law-to-hopefully-be-someday.”

I bit back a laugh. “Ryan, have you considered that maybe?—”

“Just look at him!” Ryan hissed, nodding toward our table. “Always bringing up their MIT days, practically eye-fucking Matt across the— Oh.” He froze, glass halfway to his lips. “Oh, holy shit.”

“The penny drops.”

“He’s not trying to steal you away. He wants…” Ryan’s eyes went saucer-wide. “All this time he’s been… and I’ve been… oh, sweet baby Jesus.”

“And the light bulb finally flickers on.”

“But then why does he keep sabotaging Matt’s relationships?” Ryan downed half his drink in one go.

“Maybe because he doesn’t want Matt with anyone else?” I suggested. “Period. End of story. No understudy required.”

“Christ on a cracker.” Ryan looked like someone had just told him Santa was real but exclusively dated the Easter Bunny. “And I’ve been over there practically throwing myself at him trying to distract— oh God.”

“Watching you try to seduce him with quantum computing was a special kind of entertainment.”

“I hate you,” Ryan groaned. “And I hate my brain. And I really hate that I just spent the last hour accidentally flirting with the guy who’s been pining after my brother since before smartphones were a thing.”

“If it helps, your technique needs work anyway. Maybe fewer tech specs, more eye contact?”

“I’m getting another virgin mojito,” Ryan announced. “And then we’re going back there before he tries to recreate some MIT makeout session or something.”

“Speaking of intense staring,” I muttered, catching Porter’s fixed gaze in our direction.

“What? Who? There’s another one?” Ryan’s voice cracked. “No, don’t tell me. My poor gay disaster radar can’t take another hit tonight.”

I just grabbed our drinks and steered us back to the table. Some revelations could wait for another night. By the time we settled in our seats, Ryan was already a man with a mission. A very misguided mission.

“Xavier,” he practically purred, sliding his chair closer. “You never finished telling me about that new AI project of yours.”

Xavier’s attention remained fixed on Matt. “Perhaps another time?—”

“The interface is revolutionary, right?” Ryan batted his eyelashes like a Disney princess on speed. “I’d love to hear all about your… coding.”

I nearly choked on my sparkling water. Subtle as a brick through a window, this one.

“Your brother seems enthusiastic tonight, Matthew,” Xavier observed, his tone dry.

“Enthusiastic is one word for it,” Matt muttered, his knuckles white around his glass.

“Oh, you have no idea how… enthusiastic I can be about the right projects.” Ryan’s attempt at a sultry tone made me want to crawl under the table. He actually twirled a strand of hair around his finger.

Xavier finally turned to look at him, one perfect eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” Ryan leaned forward. “Maybe we could discuss it somewhere quieter? The view from the north terrace is amazing.”

I caught Ryan’s exaggerated wink as he stood up. Lord save me from well-meaning idiots.

“That would be… interesting,” Xavier replied slowly, his gaze flickering to Matt’s thunderous expression before rising to follow Ryan.

As they walked away, Ryan threw me another wink and a thumbs-up behind Xavier’s back. I dropped my head into my hands.

“He’s testing my patience tonight.” Matt’s voice carried that dangerous edge I was starting to recognize. His eyes tracked them as they disappeared toward the terrace.

I lifted my head. “Wait, what?”

“Xavier has a particular talent for taking things that don’t belong to him,” Matt’s smile was razor-sharp. “Or trying to, at least.”

“Matt,” I said carefully, “I don’t think Ryan’s the one Xavier’s interested in. The way he looks at you?—”

“Oh, kitten.” Matt’s laugh held no humor. “Xavier’s always been good at making people see what he wants them to see. Back at MIT?—”

“Yeah, about MIT,” I interrupted. “Have you ever considered that maybe he’s trying to eliminate your boyfriends because he wants?—”

“To prove a point?” Matt’s eyes never left the terrace. “Always.”

From across the garden, I could see Ryan animatedly talking Xavier’s ear off, practically bouncing on his toes. Xavier kept glancing back at our table, his smile growing with each look he threw Matt’s way. It seemed… triumphant somehow.

“Should we rescue him?” I asked, not specifying which ‘him’ I meant.

“And deny Xavier his moment in the spotlight?” Matt’s voice dripped sarcasm. “How cruel of you to suggest such a thing.”

Ryan’s laugh carried across the garden, bright and young and entirely too eager. Xavier’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before he caught Matt watching and his mask slipped back into place.

“This is painful to watch.” I sighed. “Like a puppy trying to befriend a shark.”

Matt’s fingers laced through mine under the table, his grip almost too tight. “Xavier always did enjoy playing with fire.”

“Though we should probably save your brother before he spontaneously combusts from enthusiasm.”

“Let him burn a little longer.” Matt’s smile was all teeth. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Xavier struggle to maintain that perfect composure of his.”

I shook my head, puzzled by Xavier’s constant glances in our direction. “He’s not very subtle about wanting your attention, is he?”

Matt’s laugh was genuine this time. “Oh, pet. You’re seeing the game, but not the players.”

From the terrace came Ryan’s voice. “The way you handled that hostile takeover was brilliant!”

Xavier’s eyes met Matt’s across the garden, and something passed between them that I couldn’t read. Challenge? Warning? Victory?

I had a feeling I was missing something crucial, but before I could puzzle it out, Porter’s steady gaze from the next table caught my attention again, and a different kind of unease settled in my stomach.

The night wound down like expensive wine, leaving behind a pleasant buzz of conversation and laughter. As we made our way to the hotel’s entrance, Xavier’s voice carried across the lobby. “Matthew, always a pleasure. Ryan… fascinating chat.” His smile held secrets I couldn’t decipher.

“Work?” I asked as Matt checked his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“Unfortunately.” Matt’s jaw tightened. “There’s a situation with our Asian markets that can’t wait until morning.”

“At this hour?”

“The market never sleeps, kitten.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “And neither do I, apparently.”

Ryan bounced on his heels. “Perfect! I can keep Andy company. We’ll have a proper sleepover, paint our nails, braid each other’s hair?—”

“The last time you tried to braid anything, you nearly scalped Jeremy,” Matt pointed out dryly.

“That was one time!” Ryan protested. “And he moved!”

The drive back to The Maxwell was quick, the night traffic sparse. Matt’s fingers drummed against his thigh, his mind already shifting to whatever crisis awaited him. In the lobby, he pulled me close for a kiss that tasted of promises and apologies.

“Don’t wait up,” he murmured against my lips.

“Do I ever listen?”

His smile was worth the late hour. “Never. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.”

As Matt disappeared toward his office, Ryan looped his arm through mine. “Come on, future brother-in-law. Time for some family history.”

The penthouse felt different without Matt’s commanding presence. Ryan immediately made himself at home, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Hot chocolate?” he called out, already rummaging through cupboards. “Matt always keeps the good stuff stocked. The fancy Belgian kind that comes in gold boxes because apparently regular cocoa isn’t billionaire enough.”

I laughed. “Sounds perfect.”

Minutes later, we settled into the plush sofas with steaming mugs topped with tiny marshmallows, Ryan sprawled out like he owned the place while I tucked my feet under me. He pulled out his phone, swiping through photos.

“Okay, crash course in Caine genetics. First up, Daniel.” He showed me a photo of a tall, handsome man with Matt’s strong jawline but softer eyes, his arm around a stunning blond woman while two children clung to his legs.

“The responsible eldest. Hollywood producer, married to Sophie—she’s the gorgeous one who’s way out of his league.

Those two mini terrorists are Ella and Logan.

They call me their favorite uncle because I’m the only one who’ll smuggle them candy behind Daniel’s back. ”

He swiped to another photo—this one of a group shot at what looked like a Christmas party.

“And this disaster is Jeremy.” He pointed to a man with an easy smile and perfectly styled hair, who had his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Currently corrupting Chicago’s advertising industry with his girlfriend Tessa.

He basically gets paid to be as chaotic as he naturally is.

” Ryan’s grin widened. “He’s going to absolutely love you.

You both have that ‘Matt’s not the boss of me’ energy. ”

“What about the family business?” I asked, blowing on my hot chocolate. “How did Matt end up running everything?”

Ryan’s expression turned thoughtful as he pulled up another photo—this one of all four brothers in suits, probably at some charity event.

“When Dad wanted to retire, everyone just assumed Daniel would take over. He was the eldest, the responsible one. But Daniel…” He shook his head fondly.

“He loves his movies, his quiet life with Sophie and the kids. The empire would have eaten him alive.”

“And Jeremy?”

“Please.” Ryan’s laugh held genuine affection. “Jeremy can barely manage his own lunch schedule. But Matt…” His voice softened with pride. “Matt was born for this. Dad saw it before any of us did. The way he thinks, moves, handles pressure—it’s like watching a master conductor lead an orchestra.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Living their best life in Bali. Mom’s taken up painting, Dad’s writing his memoirs. They pop in for holidays and birthdays, but mostly they’re content letting their empire rest in Matt’s capable hands while they perfect their tan.”

I tried to picture Matt as a child, learning at his father’s knee. “It must have been a lot of pressure.”

“Matt thrives on pressure. He’s like one of those deep-sea creatures—take away the weight and he’d probably explode.” Ryan stretched. “Though I wish he’d learn to delegate more. These late-night crisis sessions are getting more frequent.”

“Does he always work this late?”

“Only when something’s really wrong.” Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Or when Xavier’s been particularly… Xavier.”

Before I could question that, Ryan bounced up. “But enough about my workaholic brother. We should exchange numbers. Fair warning—I’m a chronic meme sender and I have no concept of appropriate texting hours.”

“I’m starting to see why Matt keeps you on a different continent.”

“Rude!” But Ryan was laughing as we swapped phones. “I’ll have you know New York loves me. Though I might need to visit more often now that Matt’s finally found someone worth keeping around.”

The warmth in his voice made my chest tight. “You’re flying back tomorrow?”

“Crack of dawn. Matt’s sending the jet because he’s a show-off.” Ryan pulled me into a tight hug. “Take care of him, okay? He pretends he’s invincible, but…”

“I know.”

“And take care of yourself. The world Matt lives in—our world—it can be overwhelming.”

“Is this the ‘hurt my brother and they’ll never find your body’ talk?”

Ryan’s grin was pure mischief. “Please. If you hurt Matt, I’ll help you hide from him. Bros before bros, right?”

After Ryan left, the penthouse settled into the kind of silence that five-star hotels spend fortunes perfecting.

I showered quickly, then found myself drawn to Matt’s closet.

His dress shirts hung in perfect rows, an army of crisp white cotton standing at attention.

I slipped one on, drowning in fabric that somehow still managed to smell exactly like him.

The bed felt too big without Matt’s solid warmth beside me, like trying to navigate an ocean with no shoreline in sight.

I curled up on his side, breathing in his lingering scent on the pillows.

Somewhere below, my workaholic boyfriend was probably glaring spreadsheets into submission and making the Asian markets question their life choices.

I could almost picture his “don’t test me” expression—the one that made seasoned CEOs develop sudden and mysterious calendar conflicts.

My phone buzzed.

Ryan: Made it back to my room! Thanks for letting me monopolize your evening. Fair warning—I wasn’t kidding about the memes.

A second later, my screen filled with a cascade of cat gifs.

Me: Go to sleep, Ryan.

Ryan: Never! Sleep is for the weak! Also, Matt just walked past my room looking murderous. Should I be concerned?

Me: Probably for the Asian markets.

Ryan: Poor Asia. Sweet dreams, future bro! Don’t let the billionaires bite—unless you’re into that.

I fell asleep smiling, wrapped in Matt’s shirt and the warmth of belonging, wondering what crisis had pulled him away tonight.