Page 99 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

Forty

MATT

T he Cosmopolitan’s executive boardroom gleamed like a jewel box, all chrome and glass suspended forty stories above the Strip.

Matt surveyed the faces around the mahogany table—seven of Vegas’ most influential players, plus one very irritated Xavier Kingsley.

Behind them, hotel staff moved silently, refilling water glasses and adjusting the temperature at the slightest gesture.

“The numbers speak for themselves,” Matt continued his presentation, clicking to the next slide. “Maxwell-Caine’s infrastructure in Asia means we can implement Phase One within six months. No delays, no learning curve.”

Howard Palmer—seventy years old and sharp as a tack—leaned forward, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “And the environmental impact studies?”

“Already completed.” Matt nodded to Porter, who glided forward with a stack of bound reports. “You’ll find everything in order, including projected carbon offsets and sustainable energy integration.”

Xavier’s fingers drummed against the table. “How convenient that you had all this ready to go.”

“Not convenience. Preparation.” Matt met Xavier’s glare coolly. “Something you might want to try sometime.”

Charles Montgomery, CEO of Desert Sun Holdings, cleared his throat. “The sustainability angle is impressive, Matt. But Xavier’s proposal?—”

“Is theoretical at best,” Howard cut in. “My father built Palmer Industries on solid ground, not maybes and could-bes.” He turned to Xavier. “Son, your tech innovations are remarkable, but this project needs established channels.”

“Established?” Xavier’s laugh was sharp as broken glass. “You mean old. Outdated. Matt’s playing it safe because he’s terrified of real innovation.”

“Says the man who’s spent the last six months chasing my deals instead of creating his own.” Matt’s voice stayed even, but his eyes hardened. “Tell me, Xavier, how many of your ‘innovations’ actually made it past the planning stage?”

The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

“So we’re all in agreement?” Matt addressed the table at large. “The Palmer Project proceeds under Maxwell-Caine management.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened so hard Matt could practically hear teeth crack. Across the table, Howard nodded with obvious approval. “Your proposal shows vision, Matt. The kind of forward thinking we need. My father would have liked you.”

“Vision?” Xavier stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “It’s robbery dressed up in a fancy PowerPoint. You’re effectively muscling me out of?—”

“Out of what, exactly?” Matt gathered his papers with deliberate calm. “A project you had no stake in until you heard I was interested?” He smiled, all teeth. “That’s not vision, Xavier. That’s just poor strategy.”

The other executives shifted uncomfortably. Charles Montgomery suddenly found his cuff links fascinating. The tension crackled like static before a storm.

“Perhaps,” drawled Marcus Wei from Hong Kong First Bank, “we should take a brief recess?”

“No need.” Matt stood, buttoning his jacket. “We’re done here. Gentlemen, thank you for your time. Porter, please ensure everyone has copies of the final projections.”

“Of course, sir.” Porter’s voice was soft, almost reverent.

One by one, they filed out. Howard Palmer paused to shake Matt’s hand. “Well played, son. You’ve built something remarkable here.”

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

Xavier was last to leave, lingering in the doorway. His knuckles were white around his briefcase handle. “This isn’t over, Matthew. You can’t keep blocking my every move in Vegas.”

“I don’t block you, Xavier. You do that to yourself by chasing what’s mine.” Matt’s smile was razor-sharp. “You started this game, remember?”

“Because you wouldn’t even consider?—”

“Careful.” Matt’s voice dropped low, dangerous. “Some things aren’t for sale or negotiation. Never were, never will be.”

Xavier’s laugh was bitter. “He’s not a child anymore, Matthew. You can’t keep playing protective big brother forever.” His smile turned sly. “He was quite… entertaining at the conference dinner a few weeks ago, wasn’t he? So determined to protect his big brother. So deliciously fierce.”

Matt’s jaw clenched. The image of Ryan trying to run interference, practically throwing himself between Matt and Xavier flashed through his mind. His brother, so loyal yet completely blind to Xavier’s real interest.

“You played him.” It wasn’t a question. “The dismissive attitude, making it about business. You knew exactly how he’d react.”

“Of course I did.” Xavier straightened his tie, looking pleased with himself.

“Ryan’s always been predictable that way when it comes to you.

So protective. Just like back at MIT, showing up in his school uniform, ready to fight anyone who looked at you wrong.

” His eyes softened at the memory. “Some things never change.”

“Try it.” Matt’s phone buzzed—a text from Andy. “See how that works out for you. Like everything else you’ve attempted lately.”

“One day, your walls will crack.” Xavier’s composure was perfect, but his eyes burned with intensity. “And when they do, I’ll be there. After all…” His smile turned predatory. “Ryan’s not that wide-eyed schoolboy anymore, is he? No more hiding behind big brother’s reputation.”

“Get out.” The words came out as a growl. “And stay away from my brother.”

“Or what?” Xavier paused at the door. “You’ll keep interfering with my business deals? Please. We both know this was never about business, Matthew.” He chuckled. “Give Ryan my regards. Tell him I found his protective streak… captivating as ever.”

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

Matt’s grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles went white.

Even now, years later, the mere thought of Xavier anywhere near Ryan made his blood boil.

His brother’s attempts to “protect” him at the conference had played right into Xavier’s hands—exactly as the bastard had planned.

Just like every time since those MIT days when Ryan would visit, young and fierce and completely unaware of how Xavier watched him from the shadows.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Matt turned to the Vegas skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Tonight was about victory, not old threats. The Palmer Project would cement Maxwell-Caine’s position in the Asian markets for the next decade. He loosened his tie, finally allowing himself to relax.

He checked Andy’s message. Coming home soon? Made pasta. Well, tried to. Might need rescue from Italian cuisine disaster.

Matt smiled, typing back: Give me 30. Don’t burn down my kitchen.

Our kitchen , came the swift reply. And no promises.

The city sparkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a galaxy of man-made stars. Matt poured himself a glass of water from the crystal decanter, mind already shifting to thoughts of home. Of Andy waiting, probably covered in flour and cursing at Italian cooking videos.

The water hit his tongue—clean, cool, with an oddly bitter aftertaste. Matt froze, glass halfway to the table. His vision blurred at the edges, the city lights outside swimming into streaks of neon.

Drugged .

He reached for his phone, fingers suddenly clumsy. The room tilted sideways like a carnival ride. Footsteps approached from behind—quiet, measured, familiar.

Matt turned, his movements sluggish. Lucas Porter stood in the doorway, his expression one of rapturous devotion. The same look Matt had glimpsed during the meeting, now stripped of all pretense.

“You…” Recognition slammed into Matt as his knees buckled. Not just Palmer’s marketing executive. The presence he’d felt watching. The shadow at the edges of his world. “It’s you…”

His legs gave out completely. Before he could hit the floor, Porter caught him, cradling Matt against his chest with disturbing tenderness.

“Yes, my love.” Porter’s fingers traced Matt’s jaw with featherlight touches.

“I’ve been here all along, watching over you.

Waiting for the perfect moment.” His voice dropped to a whisper, reverent and possessive.

“No more wasting yourself on pretty distractions. You’ll see now.

You’ll understand what true devotion means. ”

Matt tried to fight, to push away, but his body had turned to lead. The carpet swam beneath him, Porter’s face blurring in and out of focus. Those fingers kept stroking his face, his hair, like a lover’s caress.

His last coherent thought was of Andy, waiting at home with badly cooked pasta and that bright, beautiful smile. Then darkness swallowed him whole.

The first thing Matt registered was cold. Deep, bone-seeping cold that spoke of concrete and underground spaces. His head pounded like a bass drum at a rave, mouth cotton dry. He forced his eyes open.

Chains clinked as he moved. Heavy steel manacles circled his wrists, connected to thick bolts in the wall.

The room was large but spartanly furnished—a bed, a chair, a small table.

No windows. A single door of reinforced steel.

The walls were raw concrete, but someone had hung tapestries depicting medieval scenes.

Kings and queens, battles and coronations.

“You’re awake.” Porter’s voice came from the shadows. He stepped into the harsh fluorescent light. His smile was radiant, devoted. Utterly insane.

“I was worried I’d used too much sedative. But then, you’ve always been strong. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Matt tested the chains. Solid. Professional grade. “How long have you been planning this?”

Porter circled Matt like a predator savoring its prey, fingers trailing over the chains that bound Matt’s wrists. The fluorescent light cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the fever-bright gleam in his eyes.

“Do you remember me, Matthew? From before?” Porter’s voice was soft, almost dreamy.

He reached up and removed his contact lenses, revealing dark eyes that sparked with recognition in Matt’s memory.

“MIT. I was two years behind you and Xavier. The golden boys of our generation.” His laugh held a bitter edge.

“Everyone talked about you both. But you… you were different. Special.”

Matt’s head was still foggy from the drugs, but fragments of memory stirred. A younger face in lecture halls, watching from the back row. “You were in Professor Chen’s Advanced Economics seminar.”

“Yes!” Porter’s face lit up with disturbing joy. He pressed closer, hands sliding up Matt’s chest. “I used to sit and watch you challenge his theories. So brilliant. So commanding. Even then, you were a king in the making.”

With trembling fingers, Porter began unbuttoning Matt’s shirt.

“I followed your career after graduation. Every achievement, every triumph. But it wasn’t until that speech at the Bellagio—God, you were magnificent.

Standing there, telling those old dinosaurs how Vegas needed to evolve or die.

I knew then that we were destined to rule together. ”

“You’re sick,” Matt said quietly. “You need help.”

Porter’s hand struck like a snake, gripping Matt’s jaw.

“I’m the only one who truly sees you!” The words burst out in a passionate snarl.

Then, just as quickly, his touch gentled.

He pressed his lips to Matt’s exposed collarbone, trailing kisses up his neck.

“I’ve loved you for so long, my king. Watching. Waiting. Planning.”

His hands roamed possessively over Matt’s chest, fingernails scraping skin. “And then… then you finally noticed me. That night at the Maxwell. Remember? I made sure to catch your eye at the bar. You took me upstairs…” Porter’s breath hitched. “It was going to be perfect. Our beginning.”

The memory clicked into place. The night he first saw Andy. The pretty dark-haired young man at the bar who’d reminded him so much of…

“But then that little brat had to cause chaos in your casino.” Porter’s voice turned venomous. “That worthless piece of—” He caught himself, inhaling sharply. When he spoke again, his tone was honey-sweet. “But it doesn’t matter now. We have all the time in the world.”

He pressed himself against Matt, one hand tangling in his hair while the other traced the dragon tattoo on his chest. “I’ve dreamed of this.

Of touching you. Loving you. Making you see that I’m the only one worthy of standing beside you.

” His tongue followed the path of his fingers, tasting Matt’s skin.

“We’ll build an empire together. Show Vegas what true power looks like. ”

Matt jerked away from Porter’s touch, chains rattling. “The only thing you’re building is a prison sentence.”

Porter’s laugh was high and brittle. “Oh, my love. Still fighting. Still so magnificently proud.” He stepped back, eyes roving hungrily over Matt’s exposed chest. “But you’ll understand soon.

I’ll make you see how perfect we could be together.

” His smile turned dreamy. “I already have our first board meeting planned. The look on Xavier’s face when he realizes… when they all realize…”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m devoted!” Porter snapped, then immediately softened and leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss to Matt’s lips. “Rest now, my king. Dream of our future.”

The door closed behind him with a heavy clang. In the sudden silence, Matt heard the distant hum of ventilation systems. Somewhere above, the city carried on, unaware that one of its most powerful men was chained in a madman’s dungeon.

Andy , he thought fiercely. Stay safe. Stay smart. Don’t try to be a hero.

But even as he thought it, Matt knew it was useless. Andy would never stop looking. Never stop fighting.

And that terrified him more than any chain ever could.