“Let’s go,” was all he said, pivoting on his heel with the expectation I’d fall in step behind him.
And there I was, trailing after him like a pup dogging the heels of its emperor of a master. We strode along the hotel’s opulent corridor, my sneakers silent against the plush carpeting while his footsteps clicked with authority. It wasn’t long before we arrived at a restaurant so fancy it probably had its own dress code for the silverware.
The maître d’ practically sprinted over to us, all but bowing as he greeted Matt with a reverence that bordered on worship. “Mr. Caine, what an honor to have you with us this evening.”
They exchanged pleasantries while I hovered awkwardly to the side like an accessory that didn’t match the outfit. The maître d’ then led us through a maze of tables where the diners were decked out to the nines. Each step we took felt like a spotlight on my very normal clothes, and I could feel my cheeks heat up despite my irritation.
We were shown to a table with a view that could steal your breath if you weren’t careful. The twinkling lights of Vegas spread out before us like jewels scattered across velvet. As I took my seat across from Matt, I caught more than a few curious glances aimed our way—mostly at him, though. Not surprising, given that he looked like he’d stepped out of one of those glossy men’s magazines.
I couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle as I leaned back in my chair. “So, is this typical billionaire behavior? Bringing your captive out to wine and dine in high style?” I asked, unable to resist a jab at the absurdity of the situation.
Matt’s eyes lit up with amusement—a look I was quickly learning meant trouble—and his chuckle resonated richly in the space between us. “And here I thought you’d appreciate a little taste of the finer things, pup. I did think about chaining you up in a dungeon, but that seemed a bit cliché. Besides, this place has better ambiance.”
“Ambiance, right,” I said. “And here I thought it was just about flaunting your wealth.”
He smirked. “Flaunting? This is me being modest.”
“Sure,” I shot back. “Next you’ll tell me the chef here doesn’t even need to use salt because his tears from laughing at the prices season the food just fine.”
Matt chuckled, a rich sound that only annoyed me more. “You’re witty for someone in debt up to their eyeballs.”
“Well, it’s either laugh or cry,” I replied. “And I’ve already done enough of the latter.”
A waiter appeared with a bottle of deep red wine that probably cost more than my last month’s rent. He poured a sample for Matt’s approval, who gave a slight nod after swirling and sipping the vintage. The waiter then filled our glasses, the rich liquid sloshing gently.
I watched Matt take another appreciative sip before turning his attention back to me. “I take it your palate isn’t quite so… refined?”
Gripping the stem of the glass, I lifted it in a mocking toast. “You know what they say—can’t buy class.”
His eyes glinted with amusement at my quip. “Luckily, I’ve got enough money to make up for it.”
We continued our back-and-forth volley, his cool confidence sparring against my indignant barbs. Part of me wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but another part… enjoyed the charged banter, the thrill of aiming to get under his skin the way he so effortlessly got under mine.
The waiter returned, looking slightly flustered from our verbal sparring match. “Are you ready to order, Mr. Caine?”
Matt gestured for me to go first. “Ladies first.”
I shot him a withering look before snatching up the menu and scanning the exorbitant prices with a smirk. When I foundthe most expensive item, a ridiculously lavish surf and turf, I looked up at Matt with challenge in my eyes.
“I’ll have the Wagyu,” I declared.
Matt’s gaze was steady, but I could have sworn I saw his lips twitch with a hint of a smile. “You sure that’s going to be enough to fill that bottomless pit you call a stomach?”
I leaned back with a smug smile of my own. “Who says that’s all I’m ordering?” I turned back to the waiter. “I’ll also have the lobster thermidor, the foie gras appetizer, and… let’s throw in that fancy caviar thing too.”
The waiter’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Matt, on the other hand, looked annoyingly amused. “Trying to bankrupt me?”
“Just taking advantage of your hospitality,” I said sweetly.
The waiter furiously scribbled our orders on his notepad before scurrying off like he was escaping a wildfire. Matt shook his head in amusement.
“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “for someone who hates being here, you certainly know how to enjoy yourself.”
I met his gaze evenly. “If I’m stuck in your gilded cage, I might as well enjoy the perks.”
It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. The spread before me could’ve fed a small army or one ravenous twenty-year-old who had been living on instant noodles and dreams. I didn’t hesitate, diving into the lobster thermidor like it was my last meal on earth.
Across from me, Matt watched me with an expression caught between amusement and fascination, as if I were some rare species he’d discovered in the wild. “I take it the food meets your exacting standards?”
