A wry smile played on his lips. “Make yourself at home.” His tone made it clear there was an implicit warning behind those words—don’t do anything stupid like trying to run.
With that, he turned and left me alone in the lavish penthouse. I stood frozen for a long moment, half expecting this all to be some cruel prank. When no one jumped out yellinggotcha!, I finally allowed myself to move.
In a daze, I wandered through the space, running my fingers along the buttery soft leather of the couch. The floors were warm beneath my feet, and the air carried a faint hint of citrus, like someone had just cleaned.
I made my way to the bedroom and couldn’t stop the low whistle that escaped my lips. The bed was covered in plush bedding and a mountain of pillows. Through another set ofdoors, I found myself in the biggest closet I’d ever seen, the racks overflowing with designer suits and casual wear.
Realization struck me like a bucket of ice water. This wasn’t just some empty penthouse—it was Matt’s actual place. My skin prickled with discomfort at the thought of living in such close quarters with that intimidating man.
“Like hell I’m staying here,” I muttered under my breath.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched right back out the front door, letting it slam shut behind me. I didn’t care what Matt’s instructions had been. I’d find my own place to lay low. Anything was better than being that bastard’s captive houseguest.
Four
MATT
Matt lounged in an oversized leather armchair, his tall frame exuding an aura of command that even the opulence of the room couldn’t overshadow. The luxurious lounge, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows, offered a breathtaking view of the Las Vegas Strip bathed in the glow of neon lights. The city below pulsed with life, but within this cocoon of wealth and privilege, Matt felt like the king surveying his kingdom.
He let his eyes drift over the sparkling cityscape, anticipation coiling tightly in his chest. This night promised to be anything but dull. The polished waitstaff moved like shadows around him, one approaching with a sleek efficiency that spoke of rigorous training.
A crystal tumbler appeared before him, filled with amber liquid. Matt’s fingers wrapped around the glass, feeling its weight. He brought it to his lips and took a slow sip, savoring the burn of the expensive whiskey as it slid down his throat.
Eddie stood a respectful distance behind him, always alert. His presence was as constant as it was reliable. The quiet murmur of Eddie’s voice reached Matt’s ears as he communicated with his team through an earpiece.
“Eddie,” Matt said without turning around, already sensing a shift in Eddie’s stance.
Eddie leaned in closer. “Boss, Andy’s just left the hotel.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of Matt’s mouth. “Doesn’t take him long to run,” he murmured, more to himself than to Eddie. There was something exhilarating about the chase; Andy’s spirit was both frustrating and intoxicating.
Matt continued, his voice low but firm. “Keep track of him.”
Eddie nodded and stepped back into the shadows, seamlessly blending into the background as he relayed Matt’s orders.
Matt took another sip of his whiskey, feeling a familiar thrill course through him. When he set down his glass, he said, “Take me to Sean.”
The car purred along the deserted highway, leaving the glittering lights of the Las Vegas Strip behind. Matt gazed out the tinted window as the city faded into the vast expanse of the Mojave Desert. Rudd handled the vehicle with a steady hand, navigating the twisting roads that led deeper into the arid wasteland.
Eddie sat beside Matt, his bulky frame a reassuring presence. The two men had an unspoken understanding, forged through years of loyalty and trust. No words were needed as the sleek sedan approached a dilapidated warehouse, its corrugated walls bleached by the relentless desert sun.
The car rolled to a stop, and Matt stepped out, the cool night air hitting him as he adjusted his suit jacket. The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic, its windows dark and foreboding.
Inside, the space was dimly lit by a few hanging bulbs that cast shadows across the dusty floor. The air smelled of oil and rust, and the faint hum of machinery echoed in the background. Matt’s footsteps were deliberate as he walked through the corridors, Eddie and Rudd flanking him.
They reached a door, and Eddie paused, his hand resting on the handle. With a nod from Matt, he pushed it open, revealing a stark room illuminated by a single harsh light.
In the center, a battered figure sat slumped in a chair, arms bound behind his back. Sean’s face was a grotesque mask of bruises and dried blood, his eyes swollen shut. Matt felt a flicker of satisfaction at the sight of the man who had dared to cross him.
One of his men dragged in another chair, scraping it across the floor. Matt settled into it, his imposing frame looming over Sean’s beaten form.
Sean stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze fell on Matt, his entire body tensed, fear radiating from him in palpable waves.
“You’re lucky you’re still breathing,” Matt began. “If it weren’t for Andy…”
Sean’s eyes widened further at the mention of Andy’s name.
“I’ve taken a liking to him,” Matt continued. “And I don’t want him upset because you died under my watch.”
