“Bold words from someone on his third slice of cake,” Matt murmured near my ear.
“Fourth,” I corrected, unashamed. “And I’m storing energy for the flight tomorrow. Like a bear preparing for hibernation.”
“You’re not flying commercial,” Matt reminded me for approximately the thousandth time. “My jet has a fully stocked kitchen.”
The evening began winding down when Aria, despite her valiant protests, started nodding off over her third dessert. James scooped her up, and she immediately curled into his chest like a sleepy kitten.
“No fair,” she mumbled. “Andy’s leaving tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be back before you know it, princess,” I promised, reaching over to boop her nose. “Someone has to make sure your Uncle Scott doesn’t teach you any more diplomatic loopholes.”
“Too late.” She yawned, then dropped off completely.
James carried Aria upstairs while the party began to disperse. When he returned with Mia, they walked Matt and me to the door.
“Text me when you land,” Mia insisted, pulling me into a careful hug.
“Yes, mom,” I teased, but squeezed her gently. “Take care of yourself.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” James said, his arm protectively around Mia’s waist.
Matt’s hand found its familiar place on my lower back as we headed to the car.
Thirty-Eight
MATT
In the solitary glow of his office, Matt leaned over a myriad of documents, his eyes tracing lines of text that blurred into an endless tangle of figures and legalese. The numbers danced across his three monitors like a mocking ballet of profit margins and market trends. Empty coffee cups stood like weary soldiers around his keyboard, while a gourmet sandwich—now reduced to a cold, forgotten casualty—sat dejectedly beside his mouse pad.
He juggled calls like a circus performer, each one demanding his immediate attention. The past week since their return from LA had been a whirlwind of catching up on work, leaving precious little time for anything else—especially Andy. He missed their leisurely dinners, where laughter seasoned every dish and their banter was as rich as the wine. The thought of Andy working on his app somewhere in their penthouse, equally buried in his own projects, made the distance feel even more pronounced.
As the clock struck midnight, its soft chime cutting through the silence, Matt pushed back from his desk with enough force to send his chair rolling. “Enough,” he muttered, shutting down his computer with a decisive click.
The penthouse greeted him with dimmed lights and the gentle flicker of the television against the walls. Matt followed the blue glow to discover Andy sprawled across the leather sofa, wearing nothing but Matt’s white dress shirt. The fabric gaped open halfway down his chest, one side of the collar slipping down to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of shoulder—a sight that made Matt’s mouth go dry.
Matt chuckled, loosening his tie as he sauntered into the living room. “Playing night owl without me?”
Andy’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief in the television’s glow. “Well, someone has to keep your side of the couch warm. Besides, I was starting to think your office chair had permanently claimed custody of your ass.”
Matt crossed the space between them, each step drawn by the magnetic pull of Andy’s presence. He sank onto the couch beside him, their thighs brushing in a silent acknowledgment of their connection. Their lips met in a kiss that felt like an anchor in a tumultuous sea.
“If this is the welcome committee, I should work late more often,” Matt murmured against Andy’s mouth, his fingers tracing the line of Andy’s jaw.
“You look like you’ve been wrestling with spreadsheets and losing,” Andy observed, running his fingers through Matt’s hair. “Though I’ve got to say, the whole ‘exhausted CEO’ look works for you. Is that something they teach in Billionaire Boot Camp?”
Matt’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Right after the How to Brood Attractively seminar.”
“Ah, you must have aced that one.” Andy’s eyes sparkled with that devilish gleam Matt had come to adore. “Now, go shower and wash off the corporate drama. I’ve got a proposition that doesn’t require a contract.”
“A proposition?” Matt arched an eyebrow, his smirk matching Andy’s earlier expression. “Should I have my lawyers review it first?”
“The only clause you need to worry about”—Andy pushed playfully at his chest—”is the satisfaction guarantee. And trust me, Mr. CEO, I always deliver on my promises.”
Matt captured Andy’s lips in another searing kiss. “Don’t start the party without me. I won’t be long,” he whispered against Andy’s mouth before rising. As he headed toward the shower, his exhaustion forgotten, Matt couldn’t help but smile at how easily Andy could transform even the most grueling day into something worth coming home to.
The cascade of hot water washed away the day’s tension, figures and strategies dissolving under the soothing warmth. He kept the shower quick but thorough, his thoughts already racing ahead to whatever delicious plans Andy had in store.
When he emerged, towel slung low on his hips, the sight before him made him pause. Andy sat cross-legged on their bed, surrounded by an artistic arrangement of silk ties fanned out like a peacock’s plumage. The mischievous glint in his eyes told Matt exactly what he had in mind.
