“Let me guess,” I arched an eyebrow. “Mother hen has landed?”
“Other than Mia?” He rose. “Who else would dare breach my fortress of solitude?”
Hurricane Mia swept in, all concerned eyes and windswept dark hair. She must have sprinted up from her suite one floor down—despite having a perfectly good elevator at her disposal. Knowing Mia, she probably took the stairs just to make her dramatic entrance more authentic.
“Andy!” She descended upon me like a protective mama bear. “I wanted to pick you up myself, butsomeone”—she shot a pointed glare at Matt—”apparently thinks he has exclusive rights to hospital pickups.”
Matt’s smirk was worthy of a chess grandmaster’s winning move. “I merely seized the opportunity while you were… otherwise engaged with James. Though I’m sure whatever you were doing was equally important.”
The blush that painted Mia’s cheeks could have powered the Strip’s neon for a week. I filed away this particular piece of ammunition for future sibling warfare.
“We’re having dinner together tonight,” Mia declared, desperately changing the subject. “James and I decided to stay in Vegas for another week to look after you.”
“While I appreciate the sentiment,” Matt interjected smoothly, every inch the polished businessman, “Andy has the best care money can buy right here. Including a private nurse who, unlike some people, won’t try to force-feed him chicken soup.”
“That was one time!” Mia protested.
“I was asleep,” I reminded her.
“You needed the nutrients!”
Matt’s eyes danced with amusement. “I assure you, Mia, your brother’s nutritional needs will be well taken care of. Without any force-feeding incidents.”
Mia opened her mouth to protest, but Matt’s determined gaze silenced her. There was a silent battle of wills, like two poker players in a high-stakes game.
Finally, Mia huffed in defeat. “Fine,” she conceded, “but if anything happens to him, I’m holding you personally responsible. And I meananything, Matt Caine.”
Matt’s smile was worthy of a Vegas headliner. “I’ll sign that contract in blood if you’d like. Though I suspect James is still recovering from your… morning activities in your suite downstairs. You did at least let him have breakfast?”
The second blush that colored Mia’s cheeks was even brighter than the first. I couldn’t help but grin—watching Matt and Mia’s verbal sparring matches was better than any show on the Strip.
Matt sauntered to the door, his gait exuding confidence with every step. “Remember, Andy, no heroics,” he said with the authority of a man used to being obeyed. “You’re healing nicely, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
A part of me—the independent, stubborn part that had gotten me into this mess in the first place—wanted to leap off the couch just to prove him wrong. The more sensible, less bruised part of me won out.
“And you,” Matt turned to Mia, “try not to suffocate him with your worries.”
“That’s rich coming from Mr. I-Installed-A-Panic-Button-In-The-Shower,” Mia fired back with sugary venom. “ShouldI remind you who has a SWAT team on standby? Shall we compare helicopter parenting notes?”
Matt just strolled out with the confidence of a man who owned not just the building, but the very air within it. His cologne lingered behind—a scent that seemed to whisper,I own this city, and now, I might just own you, too.
The moment the door clicked shut, I pushed off the couch and made my way toward the bedroom with all the grace of a newborn giraffe.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mia’s voice had that sharp edge of concern only big sisters can manage. “Do you need to sleep or something?”
“Sleep?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I’ve had enough sleep to last me three lifetimes. Matt said his men salvaged my laptop from the apartment. I need to check on my app.”
Her expression softened at the mention of my work, but her stance remained firm. “Go sit down,” she commanded, not unkindly. “I’ll get it for you.”
Knowing arguing would only prolong the inevitable, I retraced my steps to the couch and pulled out my phone. First, a text to Fin:Back at the penthouse. Dinner tonight—your presence, and Ethan’s, required. No excuses accepted.
Then to Matt:Heads-up. I invited Fin and Ethan for dinner.
His reply came faster than a slot machine eating quarters.Fine by me. Tory invited himself too.
I chuckled, already imagining Ethan’s face when he saw Tory. His crush was so obvious, even the poker players downstairs could read those tells. For a moment, I debated warning Fin about Tory’s attendance—he’d definitely tell Ethan—but decided against it. Some surprises were too delicious to spoil.
Mia returned, cradling my laptop like it was the Holy Grail of tech. She handed it to me, and I hugged it close, breathing in its familiar scent of metal and possibility.
