50. Matthias

50

MATTHIAS

W ith dread filling my heart like a collection of river stones, Ciaran pretty much confirmed everything I'd feared.

Drew and Andy were the same person.

As we took the garage elevator to the street level, Ciaran's shoulder brushed up against mine as black thoughts blitzed like bombs in my head.

I smiled at him like I didn't have murderous thoughts swirling around my head and asked, "Are you sure you're okay with going to Asshole Andy's place first?"

Soft instrumental elevator music sounded from overhead.

"I mean…as long as that's good for you," Ciaran said in an apologetic tone, his face wary. "I just don't think I can…"

"Face Drew yet?" It wasn't me I was worried about. I planned to do serious damage to Andy no matter what. My concern was for Ciaran. It had to be devastating to learn you'd been duped by someone you trusted.

"Yeah."

It was the same cold feeling that washed over me when I discovered Coach Anderson's blackmailing scheme, though I had to admit that Ciaran's situation was far worse. I'd been a shithead ripe for blackmailing.

Ciaran, on the other hand, had done nothing wrong, but Drew had violated his trust in so many ways that it might take years to recover.

Watching our golden reflection in the elevator's inner walls, which shimmered like mirrors, I said, "It's no problem."

I reached down to interlace our fingers. We exited the elevator and made our way outside.

"Then why are we not going upstairs into The Towers? I thought he lived here."

"Andy lives in The West Flamingo."

Ciaran stopped mid-step even though we had the right of way in the crosswalk.

"W-what?"

Under the bright Vegas streetlight, his blue eyes flickered cataclysmically. I'd just witnessed the second the thought hit his brain.

It wasn't storming outside. In fact, the weather was warm, balmy, and bugs were out in force, but a bolt of lightning might as well have struck me then. Anger rose and I felt hot all over, but I could not show it.

As much as I wanted to destroy Andy, my goals changed in that instant.

Protect Ciaran. Protect him physically. Protect his heart.

Ciaran shook his head like he was insane. "You must be imagining things, Ciaran," he muttered to himself as we started walking again and crossed the street before an oncoming car approached. Ciaran was making the connection but refusing to believe it.

To him, Drew and Andy could not possibly be the same person. How could they be?

He'd find out once we reached the thirty-first floor of The West Flamingo.

If I put myself in Ciaran's shoes, it didn't make much sense that a Las Vegas high school counselor would be chummy enough with a Malibu billionaire to introduce him to his mom, unless there was history there.

I was still holding out hope that I was wildly incorrect, but I wouldn't bet money on it, and I was the kind of person who threw money away as casually as someone tossing a wad of napkins into a waste bin.

Ciaran gave me a questioning gaze when I pulled out a key card to admit us into The West Flamingo's main entrance.

"It's a Vaulteneau Property," I explained.

Ciaran's unimpressed expression simply read, Of course it is .

The door clicked and we stepped into the mostly empty, though brightly lit lobby. The temperature was twenty degrees cooler than outside and the air smelled clean, like someone had just stirred together a jug of grapefruit juice and lemonade.

Our sneakers made faint squeaking notes as we made our way across the lobby's marble floor. A large flamingo statue graced the center of the atrium. It was roped off so patrons and visitors couldn't try to climb up and sit on it. Elegant potted plants added lush greenery to the space while gold-framed mirrors made the large circular area appear even larger.

Acoustic music piped in overhead in a low volume. After a few bars of music, I recognized it as a Taylor Swift song.

To our left, a receptionist attired in a maroon blazer and a crisp white button down stood behind the counter. She waved at us when she recognized me. "Good evening, Mr. Vaulteneau," she said in a welcoming tone. I returned the greeting.

Beside her stood a tall, burly security guard, who nodded but didn't say anything.

Ciaran and I turned down the hallway that led to the elevators and passed a self-serve station table with ice water dispensers. I noticed the pops of yellow in the water. Lemon slices.

"How many properties does your dad own?" Ciaran asked as we waited for the elevator.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure." When Ciaran lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, I added. "Admittedly, he owns a lot of properties. He's got to park the money somewhere and real estate is always a solid investment."

We stepped inside the carriage and had the space to ourselves.

"Problems of the one-percenters," Ciaran drawled, but the nervousness in his voice didn't escape me.

The urge to apologize for my dad's wealth hit me hard. The desire to please someone else was foreign to me. I'd been so used to living for myself and not caring about the feelings of others that I didn't know how to respond.

His body started shaking when I pressed the button that would take us to Andy's floor. Ciaran swallowed so hard I could actually hear it.

Emotions bubbled up in me but I didn't know the correct way to react. I wanted to address how he was feeling, how I understood his confusion, but I wasn't good at this.

Instead, I said, "Dad's divested some of the residential properties to my brother, Dante, who runs it from his subsidiary company, Inferno Industries."

This statement seemed to distract Ciaran. He jerked his troubled eyes to mine.

"Like Dante's Inferno ?" he scoffed, his mouth tight. Then, "Does Dante know the meaning behind that epic poem?" I shrugged. I'd heard of Dante's Inferno , and I knew it was also a video game, but wasn't sure what the deeper meaning was about. I made a mental note to look it up later. Ciaran was quiet a moment as the elevator carried us higher. "I swear," he said, more to himself than to me, "tonight feels like I'm descending into my own version of the Nine Circles of Hell. Anyway…" He cleared his throat. His lips curved into a lopsided grin that didn't reach his eyes. "That was clever of Dante. But it doesn't make up for the fact that your dad could funnel the money to house those who are home insecure."

"My dad and Dante are self-absorbed," I said. "They see what they want to see." When Ciaran's gaze bore into mine with divine accusation, I threw my hands up in surrender. "Guilty. Yes, I'm self-absorbed, too. The difference though, is that I'm starting to learn, Ciaran. I'll see what I can do, okay?"

"Thank you."

I stared at him. He was so beautiful, it hurt. "You've brought a new perspective to my life…in more ways than one." You make me want to be a better person.

Ciaran's smile turned sweet, almost shy once the words left my mouth. He looked like he wanted to lean over and kiss me.

But then the elevator dinged, the door slid open, and the purpose of our being here crashed-landed back into existence.

The romantically dim wall sconces, brightly colored and fragrant flower sprays, gilded mirrors, and lush maroon carpet beneath our feet belied the tumultuous knots forming in my stomach.

I couldn't imagine how Ciaran was feeling.

"What's the apartment number?" Ciaran asked in a mere whisper. His chest was expanding rapidly and I wished I could breathe for him. Hell, I wished I could magic all of this away. What was the Wise Owl's name again? She'd know the spell. We'd be in our own little world, on the beach somewhere, a happy sun in the sky, surfing in warm water, stealing kisses whenever we felt like it.

The desire to pull him into my arms was so strong that I had to mentally plant my feet to the ground.

I couldn't lie to Ciaran. It would be cruel to let him discover the truth after we'd knocked on Andy/Drew's door.

"I have a feeling you know the apartment number," I said, meeting his eyes.

Ciaran nodded. "It was all adding up to be too much of a coincidence." His throat bobbed. At his sides, I watched as his fingers curled in, clenching into fists. "When did you guess?"

"When you told me your mom said Drew introduced her to my dad. I was hoping I was wrong, but there were too many similarities. You?"

"When we started walking toward The West Flamingo." We stood before the right apartment, the door gleaming white with an elegant knocker. Ciaran squared his shoulders, bracing for a fight. It was then I remembered he'd been here before. That Drew took advantage of him. "In my gut, I just knew, but I kept telling myself I was imagining things."

My veins engorged with hot blood and I was angry all over again. My back molars ached from clenching my teeth so hard.

"We're in this together, Ciaran." I brushed his elbow. "Are you ready?"

He studied me for a moment. Whatever he saw in my expression, he found solace and acceptance there.

"I'm ready," he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

Ciaran knocked loudly enough to be heard but not too loud to cause neighbors to investigate. A moment later, a flicker of darkness flashed behind the peephole. I could feel Andy's eyes on us.

There was a metallic thunk as the bolt was turned, then the scrape of the safety chain being slid off its holder.

Andrew Jones opened the door in an unhurried fashion and greeted us with a boyish smile.

I was a millisecond away from lunging at him, my fists ready to connect with his jaw, before Ciaran reached out to stop me.

Drew was cradling the fertility statue like a parent might carry a baby.

What the fuck?

It took me a second to understand why: Drew knew I wouldn't attack him for fear it would damage the priceless artifact.

Well played, Andy. He knew me so well. The statue was his insurance.

I'd known Andy for most of my life, but it wasn't until now that I'd acknowledged his attractiveness. He was barefoot but dressed casually in snug dark wash jeans and a T-shirt that stretched over a pair of strong shoulders and a sculpted chest. His dark brown hair was mussed up, as if he'd been lying on the couch.

It was no wonder Ciaran had been drawn to Andy. The glint in Andy's forest-green eyes conveyed he was enjoying this.

Andy's heated gaze flicked down to our feet, then up our bodies, before landing again on our faces again. It was like he was drinking us in, taking his time savoring a dessert he'd just ordered.

A skeevy shiver slithered up my spine.

I chanced a glance at Ciaran, but his face was stony.

"Hello, boys," Andy said smoothly. "I've been expecting you."