A surge of panic shot through me. My phone? Lost in last night’s chaos no doubt—another casualty of that crazy drug deal gone wrong.
“Why?” I managed to croak out.
“So you can contact your friends,” Matt said, already anticipating my needs better than I could myself. “You need company other than just me.”
Gratitude nudged at the icy numbness in my chest. I rattled off Fin’s number from memory and watched as Matt’s fingers danced across the screen.
The food arrived with Bruno pushing in a cart that groaned under its bounty. The scent hit me first—waves of rich aromas that teased at even my reluctant appetite. There were platters gleaming with succulent meats, bowls overflowing with vibrant salads glistening with dressing, baskets bursting with freshly baked bread still steaming from the oven.
As the smell of it all wafted over me, my stomach gave a half-hearted rumble of interest. But the thought of actually eating made me want to gag.
Matt’s eyes met mine, an unspoken challenge in their depths. “Eat,” he said, not a request but a command.
I shot back with all the defiance of a cornered alley cat. “I’m not hungry.”
“You still have to eat.” Matt crossed his arms, an immovable force. “You skipped breakfast and lunch and you’re dehydrated from all that crying.”
I glared at him. “What are you now, my mother?”
He leaned in close, a devilish glint in his eye. “If I have to force-feed you like a stubborn child, believe me, I will.”
My glare could’ve curdled milk, but the delicious aromas wafting from the cart were slowly chipping away at my stubborn resolve. My stomach rumbled again, this time with more insistence.
“Fine,” I grumbled, pushing myself upright. “But only because I don’t want you manhandling me like a sack of potatoes.”
Matt’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin, those storm-cloud eyes of his crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, darling.”
Shooting him one last half-hearted glower, I reached for a plate and began piling it high. The food was as decadent as always—tender cuts of chicken that melted on the tongue, fresh salads bursting with flavor, bread so warm and fragrant it was practically sinful. With each bite, I could feel some of the tension seeping from my shoulders.
The door swung open again as Bruno ushered in Fin and Ethan. Relief washed over me at the sight of them striding into the room. Fin’s face was pinched with worry, his blue eyes wide and anxious as they found me on the couch. Ethan looked equally concerned, mouth set in a tight line.
“Andy!” Fin rushed over, dropping to the couch beside me and pulling me into a fierce hug. “Are you okay? Mr. Caine said you needed us.”
I clung to him, drawing strength from his familiar warmth. Having my best friend here made the weight on my chest ease ever so slightly.
“I’m…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow hard before trying again. “I’m hanging in there, I guess.”
Fin drew back, cupping my face in his hands as he studied me intently. “Your eyes are all puffy and red. Did the asshole do something to you?” He meant Matt, of course.
As for Matt, damn him, he looked more amused than anything. “Nothing Andy didn’t ask for, sugar,” he drawled, winking at me.
I rolled my eyes at his antics, a tiny spark of my usual sass flickering to life. “Relax, Fin. I’ve just… had a really rough night.”
Fin frowned, eyes flickering between Matt and me, clearly picking up on the tension. But before he could start interrogating me, Ethan cleared his throat.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” he suggested gently.
Fin nodded.
Matt’s eyes lingered on me a moment longer before he stood. He adjusted his cuff links with the kind of precision that suggested he could control the very fabric of time if he wanted to.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said.
I nodded, watching as he strode out of the penthouse, leaving behind a trail of cologne and authority in his wake. The door clicked shut, and suddenly the atmosphere felt a smidge less charged, like someone had dialed down the voltage in the room.
“Guys, don’t let that feast go to waste,” I said, gesturing at the spread with a sweep of my hand. “Dig in before it gets cold.”
Fin and Ethan needed no further encouragement. As they ate, Fin glanced at me, concern etching deeper lines into his youthful face. “Dude, your eyes look like tomatoes after a bad breakup.”
