“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.”
