The reaction was immediate. James’ head snapped up from his position at the dining table, his phone forgotten mid-conversation. William stopped his restless pacing, pale-blue eyes sharp with interest. Tory pushed away from the window where he’d been conferring with his men in rapid Japanese. Daniel paused in his quiet conversation with their parents—who were apparently somewhere over the Pacific—while Jeremy stopped stress-eating his way through a box of donuts—explaining Ryan’s powder situation.
Ryan froze mid-step, nearly colliding with a side table. “Please tell me Xavier didn’t go full psycho and kidnap Matt because he’s got some weird billionaire crush on him? Because I swear to God, if this is some twisted tech mogul courtship ritual?—”
“That’s not Xavier’s style,” Tory cut in smoothly from his position by the windows, his dark eyes calculating. “He’s more… subtle. The type to reprogram your smart home to play love songs, not resort to kidnapping.”
“It’s Porter,” I said, watching their reactions ripple through the room. “Lucas Porter.”
“The invisible Palmer exec?” Ryan’s eyes widened, a smear of donut powder on his chin. “The one who follows Matt around like a lost puppy at board meetings?”
Daniel murmured something into his phone, probably updating their parents, while Jeremy abandoned his donuts entirely—a sure sign of how serious this was.
The penthouse doors swung open before I could respond. Xavier strode in like he owned the place, which, given his net worth, he probably could have. His emerald eyes swept the room, taking in the organized chaos, before landing on Ryan. I didn’t miss how his expression softened for a fraction of a second or how Ryan unconsciously straightened his inside-out shirt.
Ryan practically bounced over to him, trailing donut powder. “Is it really Porter? That quiet guy who always sits in the corner taking notes?”
“Not so quiet, actually.” Xavier pulled out a tablet, his fingers dancing across the screen. The morning light caught his perfectly styled dark hair, making me wonder if tech billionaires had personal hairdressers on call twenty-four seven. “I remember him from MIT. Something seemed… off. So I had my people look into him, keep an eye on things.”
“And?” James’ voice cut through the tension, every inch the commanding presence that made casino high-rollers nervous.
“And Porter’s got quite the history.” Xavier’s face hardened, his usual smooth charm replaced by something colder. “Three restraining orders under different names. Two suspicious fires at properties owned by his… objects of interest. He’s obsessed with powerful men, follows them, studies them. And he’s had his sights set on Matt since MIT.”
Daniel’s phone clattered to the table. “Mom, I’ll call you back.” He hung up, face pale. “You’re sure?”
“Where is he?” I demanded, frustration bubbling up. “Where’s Matt?”
Xavier’s lips curved into that infuriating knowing smile. “My men are already in position.” He turned his tablet around, showing a detailed map. “The old Silverton warehouse complex. Abandoned, isolated, perfect for keeping someone hidden.”
“I know it,” James said sharply, already moving. The rest of the room burst into action like a well-oiled machine. “Eddie, get the teams?—”
“Already moving.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I started for the door, but James caught my arm, his grip firm but gentle.
“Andy—”
“Don’t.” I met his eyes, seeing the same worry and determination I felt reflected there. “Don’t tell me to stay here. Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous. Don’t?—”
“I was going to say grab a jacket,” James cut in smoothly. “It gets cold in those warehouses.”
Ryan snorted, wiping donut powder from his chin. “Like you’d be able to stop him anyway. He’s got that same stubborn look Matt gets when someone tells him no.”
“Must be genetic,” Xavier murmured, his eyes lingering on Ryan in a way that made me think we might be dealing with another billionaire romance in the near future.
“It’s not genetic if they’re not actually related yet,” Tory pointed out helpfully.
As we headed for the elevator, I caught Ryan watching Xavier with a mixture of curiosity and something else. Daniel was back on the phone with their parents, his voice low and reassuring, while Jeremy fiddled nervously with his empty donut box. William and James were already coordinating with their security teams, their voices sharp with purpose.
“But first, we have to get Matt back. And then maybe have a long talk about the proper way to handle business meetings that don’t involve getting kidnapped by obsessed executives.”
The private elevator couldn’t come fast enough. James paced the foyer like a caged predator while Eddie coordinated with security teams through his earpiece. Tory’s men moved with silent efficiency, their dark suits making them look like particularly lethal shadows.
“I called ahead to the garage,” Xavier announced, his fingers dancing across his tablet. “My car’s waiting. Ryan?—”
“Shotgun,” Ryan called automatically, then flushed when everyone looked at him. “What? If we’re doing a rescue mission, I’m at least riding in the cool car.”
“It’s an Aston Martin Valkyrie,” Xavier said, his usual smooth confidence softening into something almost shy. “Custom-made.”
“Of course it is,” Ryan muttered. “Because a regular multimillion-dollar car would be too pedestrian.”
