I swallowed a mouthful before replying, “It’ll do, I suppose. Though I have to say, the caviar’s a bit pedestrian. I prefer mine sourced from albino sturgeons raised in the tears of unicorns.”
He chuckled, cutting into his own meal with practiced elegance. “I’ll have to remember that for next time. Tell me, Andy, how did you learn to code? You seem quite proficient for someone so young.”
I paused, a chunk of lobster halfway to my mouth. “Online,” I said with a shrug. “There’s this magical place called the internet, filled with more knowledge than your fancy library here.” I gestured around us for emphasis before continuing. “No silver spoon for me. No Ivy League dreams—just me, my laptop, and a truckload of YouTube tutorials.”
Matt nodded, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
I felt my cheeks heat up at the unexpected compliment, a weird flutter in my stomach that I quickly attributed to indigestion. Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “So, when does Mr. Maxwell want his money back? How am I supposed to go about that? Is he going to come see me himself?”
Matt’s expression turned serious. “James is busy. He’ll deal with that two million in his own way. For now, you just have to stay put.”
I felt my earlier good mood evaporate. “Stay put? What am I, a houseplant?”
“Think of it more as a… temporary arrangement,” Matt replied smoothly.
I stabbed at my lobster with more force than necessary. “Great. So I’m just supposed to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while my debt grows like some financial Frankenstein’s monster?”
Matt’s laughter filled the space, the sound bouncing off the walls and stabbing me right in the pride. It was the kind of laugh that said,Aren’t you adorable when you’re being insolent?
I set my jaw, ready to launch a volley of sarcasm his way, but he leaned forward before I could unleash it. His eyes helda gleam that wasn’t there before—a spark of something that looked suspiciously like respect.
“I meant it, Andy. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” A small smile played on his lips. “And that app you’ve been coding? It looks promising.”
My eyes widened a fraction at his words. How did he know about my app?
Matt must have caught my surprise because he chuckled again. “James has an eye for potential. So do I.” His gaze held mine, unwavering. “I could help fund your dream with that app. But…” He let the word hang there, heavy with implication.
My heart raced with a sudden surge of interest, despite the wariness prickling at the back of my mind. If my app took off, it could be my ticket out of this mess—a way to repay the debt to Mr. Maxwell and finally give Mia and me a shot at a better life.
But Matt’s unfinished statement made it clear there were strings attached. I opened my mouth, ready to fire off a snarky retort about not selling my soul. Yet something stopped the words from tumbling out.
Matt watched me, that same self-assured smirk playing on his lips as if he could read the internal struggle raging within me.
“But?” I probed.
“Under one condition.”
“What condition?” I asked cautiously, unable to mask the intrigue in my voice.
Matt’s gaze never wavered as he replied, “I want you.”
The words hung in the air between us. I was about to spout something irritating—maybe about how he already owned half of me thanks to the debt—but something held me back. Instead, I bit my tongue and let silence take over as I processed his proposition.
The rest of the dinner passed in tense quiet. Matt didn’t press further, allowing me to stew in my own churning thoughts.
After dinner, I returned to the penthouse alone. Matt had work to do, or so he claimed. Billionaires, I mused, must have calendars bursting at the seams with meetings and deals. The thought of Matt orchestrating his empire from that sleek, glass-walled office of his felt both intimidating and oddly comforting. It meant he’d be too busy to hover over me like a vulture over roadkill.
Left alone in the opulence of his penthouse, I flopped onto the plush couch and stared at my laptop. It sat there, closed, innocuous—a Pandora’s box of code and dreams. Matt’s offer echoed in my head like a song stuck on repeat. He wanted me as his… boy toy.
The pros and cons played tug-of-war in my mind. On one hand, accepting Matt’s deal could mean swimming in a pool of resources for my app—a golden ticket out of Debtville and giving Mia the life she deserved. On the other hand, I’d be surrendering to being someone’s plaything, which reeked of desperation and cologne—probably something expensive and woodsy.
But let’s face it, opportunities for guys like me didn’t exactly rain from the sky unless you counted eviction notices and overdue bills.
With a sigh, I pulled out my new phone and began texting Mia, Finley, Ethan, and of course, Sean, to let them know of my new number. The digital keys felt foreign under my fingers, a stark reminder that this phone came with its own set of shackles.
Hey, guys, it’s Andy. New number! Save it.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Mia. A small smile tugged at my lips as I answered.
