James laughed. “Think of it as… ensuring our investment.”
“Alright,” Matt agreed, already considering the implications. “I’ll take care of it.”
They exchanged goodbyes and hung up. Matt’s mind was already spinning with plans as he looked out over the city that never slept.
He leaned back in his chair and pressed the intercom button on his desk. “Eddie, get in here.”
The door swung open and a burly, broad-shouldered man with a shaved head strode in. Eddie Graziano had been Matt’s personal assistant and head of security for years, a trusted ally whose loyalty was unquestionable.
“You called, boss?” Eddie’s gruff voice was tinged with a hint of a New Jersey accent.
“I need you to look into someone for me,” Matt said. “Andy Donovan. Find out everything you can.”
“You got it,” Eddie said. “Anything else?”
“That’s all for now. I’ve got a meeting with the Tangiers people.” Matt stood, smoothing the crisp lines of his suit as he moved toward the door.
As he walked through the opulent halls of the hotel, staff members nodded respectfully, each one acutely aware of who held the reins of their livelihoods.
Matt slid into the back seat of his black Mercedes-Benz. Rudd, ever the efficient driver, navigated the busy Las Vegas streets with practiced ease. Matt gazed idly out the tinted windows at the flashing neon signs and crowded sidewalks, mentally reviewing his agenda. A sudden blare of the horn made his head snap up. Rudd had slammed on the brakes, the car lurching to an abrupt stop just short of a young man crossing against the light.
Rudd leaped out. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”
But the young man didn’t back down. “Me?” he shot back. “You’re the one who nearly flattened me, jackass!”
Matt found himself leaning forward, intrigued despite himself. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty, with ebony hair and a slim, athletic build that was undeniably gorgeous. Those cocky eyes sparked with defiance as he tore into Rudd with a blistering torrent of insults and accusations.
Matt felt an unexpected grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The kid had spunk, he’d give him that. And there was something about that fiery spirit, that unapologetic boldness, that Matt found utterly captivating.
Rudd finally gave up and trudged back to the car, face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about that, sir,” he stammered. “I got his information just in case we need it for insurance.”
Matt leaned back in his seat, still smiling. “It’s fine. What’s his name?”
“Andy Donovan,” the driver replied, handing over a small piece of paper with scribbled details.
Matt’s interest sharpened instantly. “Andy Donovan?”
“Yes, sir,” the driver confirmed.
Matt’s grin widened as the pieces fell into place. Well, well. This just got a whole lot more interesting.
Matt navigated the business meeting with the precision of a seasoned player at the poker table. The Tangiers representatives were all sharp suits and polished smiles, their words carefully chosen to mask underlying motives. He matched their finesse, countering every proposal with calculated ease.
Hours slipped by in a blur of negotiations and strategy. Finally, when the last document was signed and hands were shaken, Matt felt a rare sense of satisfaction. The deal was done, and another layer had been added to his ever-expanding empire.
As he left the conference room and made his way back to The Maxwell’s, his thoughts drifted back to Andy Donovan. The name alone conjured up images of tousled ebony hair, cocky eyes that sparked with defiance, and a lithe, athletic body that radiated a captivating mix of innocence and bravado. The kid’s fearless attitude intrigued him more than he cared to admit. Andy was an enigma wrapped in layers of hardship and grit.
Matt felt an unfamiliar twinge low in his abdomen. The kid had fire, that was for sure. And something about that raw, unrestrained spirit awakened a long-dormant hunger within him.
The car glided to a smooth stop outside the soaring glass facade of the Maxwell Hotel Resort. Matt stepped out, the desert air caressing his chiseled features as he strode through the grand entrance and made his way to his office suite.
Eddie was already waiting, rising from his seat as Matt entered. “Here’s everything on Andy Donovan,” he said, handing over the file.
Matt took it with a curt nod of acknowledgment. Sinking into the buttery leather chair behind his desk, Matt flipped open the file and began perusing the contents with keen interest. He inspected the profile picture first. The moment his eyes landed on Andy’s pretty boy features, he felt an unexpected jolt of captivation. There was something undeniably magneticabout the young man’s appearance, something that stirred an unanticipated curiosity within Matt.
The first page held basic details: Name: Andy Donovan, Age: 20, Height: 5’8”, Hometown: Mystic Spring. Matt’s eyes skimmed down to the next section. Family: Mia Donovan, sister, age 22. The file continued with details about Andy’s business partner. Sean McAllister, friends for around five years. He turned the page to find a list of jobs Andy had taken on since coming to Vegas: waiter at various restaurants, bellhop at a midrange hotel, cashier at a convenience store, even a stint as a janitor at a local gym.
“Kid’s been hustling,” Matt murmured to himself.
