From his jacket pocket, he produced a small sleek case, the kind of case that whispered money. Lots of it.
He opened it to reveal a gold choker—no, not just any choker. This was a masterpiece, each link crafted with precision and care. My breath hitched as I stared at it. The damn thing must’ve cost hundreds of thousands; it screamed luxury louder than a socialite at a sample sale.
With a deft touch, he clasped the choker around my neck. The cool band of leather lined with gold settled against my skin, its weight both foreign and intoxicating. He leaned in again, this time kissing the spot just above where the choker lay. “It suits you,” he whispered.
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “A choker? I must’ve been a really good pet.”
Matt laughed—a rich, genuine sound that filled the room and my heart. “You have no idea.”
He stepped back then, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned toward his own wardrobe. “I’m going to get ready,” he said over his shoulder. “I won’t be long.”
I flopped onto the couch, flipping through channels with the remote while waiting for Matt to emerge from his shower, my mind still wrapped around the weight of gold at my throat. True to his word, Matt didn’t linger in the bathroom. The door swung open, and there he stood, looking like a Greek god who’d lost his way and ended up in a Vegas penthouse. Only a towel clung to his waist, precariously draped and leaving very little to the imagination.
My gaze followed him into the walk-in closet, tracking the droplets of water that dared to race over his skin. He moved with an ease that seemed almost criminal for a man of his size—each step an unspoken challenge to gravity itself.
I couldn’t help myself. Pushing off from the sofa, I drifted toward the closet door, leaning against it with an air of nonchalance that fooled no one.
My eyes feasted on the view—Matt’s ripped muscles flexing as he dressed, that sinuous dragon tattoo undulating with each movement. It was a sight to wreck concentration and good sense alike.
He caught me staring; of course he did. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Enjoying the view?”
“Maybe,” I replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
“Come here,” he called out, his voice velvet wrapped in steel. “Help me with my tie.”
Obediently—or perhaps just eager—I stepped forward. Standing in front of him, I reached for the silk tie draped around his neck. Now, I’m no expert in knots unless we’re talking shoelaces or pretzels. And this was neither.
I fumbled with the fabric, managing to create something that looked more like a textile catastrophe than a tie knot. Matt chuckled, deep and rich. “You’re horrible at this.”
“No one ever taught me,” I muttered defensively, glaring at the twisted mess I’d made of his tie. “And I don’t wear ties anyway.”
Matt’s chuckle morphed into a full-throated laugh as he gently pushed my hands aside. “You’ll have to learn when you become a tech mogul.”
I snorted at that—a bull ready to charge at the red flag of formality. “Not gonna happen. Ties are suffocating and way too formal for my taste.”
His hands deftly corrected my botched attempt at sophistication while he leaned in close enough for me to catch the scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering steam from his shower. “Wearing a tie isn’t suffocating,” he said seductively, tying it with practiced ease. “It’s actually quite sexy on a man.”
“Yeah?” My voice came out more breathless than I intended. “Prove it.”
The wicked gleam in Matt’s eye should’ve been warning enough. He finished with his tie and without missing a beat, he leaned in close—so close that I could count every hue in those stormy eyes.
His lips captured mine in a searing kiss that stole away any semblance of resistance or retort I might have had prepared.When he pulled back, my skin burned where we’d touched; I could feel my face hot with both embarrassment and something dangerously close to desire.
“Oh, I’ll prove it alright, you just wait and see, pet,” Matt said casually, as if he hadn’t just set my world spinning with nothing more than his lips.
He took me by the wrist then, leading me out the door with all the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted—and how to get it.
Nineteen
ANDY
The car purred to a stop in front of a building that screamedlavishlouder than a diva at karaoke night. Tyrone, all stoic muscle and silent efficiency, opened my door. I stepped out, my shoes hitting the pavement with a satisfying click. Across from me, Bruno played doorman for Matt, who exited with the kind of grace that made everyone else look like they were fumbling through life.
I was about to join Matt when Fin’s voice cut through the air like a well-aimed arrow.
“Andy!” He waved so enthusiastically that I feared his arm might fly off. Ethan followed behind him, both dressed to kill in immaculate suits courtesy of Matt’s wallet. Because let’s face it, you can’t show up to a billionaire’s bash dressed in thrift store chic.
“Hey, you two look like you stepped out of aGQmagazine,” I teased as they reached us.
