Page 40 of A Life Chosen

Rayan smirked. “We can’t all be so cultured.”

But Mathias was already leaning in, the soft graze of the man’s lips on his and the thrum as he pushed their mouths apart putting a stop to the questions for now.

The thud of the apartment door woke Rayan. He turned to find the bed empty, Mathias’s clothes gone from the floor where he’d tossed them. He rolled onto his back, exhaling loudly.What did I expect—for him to make me breakfast?Rayan glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was just past eight. Mathias had slept over. He hadn’t done that before. And he had… Rayan felt a warm shiver at the memory of Mathias between his legs.

He got out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom. As the shower ran, Rayan caught sight of the mark of his capo’s teeth on his neck, now a faint red. He brushed it with his fingers, recalling the blackness in Mathias’s eyes when he’d opened the door, crackling with the same fury he’d witnessed in the parking lot. Yet the man had surrendered beneath him, the anger fizzling, as if all he’d needed was Rayan to call a stop to it.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, heart thudding. He’d seen something else in those eyes, barely perceptible, a glimpse into the depths that lurked beneath the icy exterior.Was it more than just lust?The thought brought with it a feeble flicker of hope, which Rayan caught quickly and stamped out. He should have known, right from the beginning, how deeply entangled he would become.

Chapter Fourteen

After the meeting with Russo, Mathias had gone silent, something he was proving surprisingly good at. When he and Rayan were working, there had been a routine, a certainty to their interactions. Without it, Mathias seemed to disappear, only to call out of the blue, as he had that morning, expecting Rayan to drop everything and play nice.

Not that he wasn’t relieved to get out of the house. The idleness was making him restless. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on work to function. Full days that rendered him unconscious by the end had morphed into long empty stretches of time, allowing the thoughts, never really gone, to resurface with a vengeance.

“How’s the hand?” Rayan asked as the waitress placed two cups of coffee down on the table between them.

They were in a small café a few blocks from the office. Despite the jumble of mismatched furniture that crowded the dingy interior, the coffee was decent. When the two of them were sick of the cheap slop Tony served up, they came here.

“Fine,” Mathias replied, tapping the side of his steaming mug with his knuckles.

They sat across from each other as customers bustled in and out of the store, drinking their coffee in silent avoidance—a tactic Rayan had become increasingly familiar with. If his capo wanted to tell him something, he would sit and wait.

Finally, Mathias sighed and stood up, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. “Let’s walk.”

They left the café, passing Mathias’s Mercedes, which was parked outside on the street. Crossing the road, they continued past the metro station before making a left and turning into Parc Jarry. It was late morning, and the park was empty aside from the occasional jogger who appeared on the path ahead. As they walked, Rayan realized what a rarity it was to be out in the city without being on a job. It was strange to see his capo integrated with the outside world.

Mathias lit a cigarette and exhaled into the crisp morning air. As if he’d simply needed the extra time to organize his thoughts, he then spoke. “I’m leaving for Hamilton at the end of the month.”

The departure was sooner than expected. The radio silence made sense now. He’d been busy preparing.

“You’ll stay here,” Mathias continued, his eyes trained forward, not looking at him.

Rayan stopped walking. He’d heard his boss perfectly, but the words were having trouble registering in his brain. Seeing he had fallen behind, Mathias came to a stop.

He turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “Tony needs the help. You’ll be assigned another capo.”

“No,” Rayan said, adamant. “If you’re going, I’m coming with you.”

Mathias’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you understand—”

“No, I don’t,” Rayan cut in, anger making him bold. “With everything going on, you need someone watching your back. That day, I hung back when I shouldn’t have. Not this time.”

“It’s not up for discussion,” Mathias said, his voice lowering dangerously. “Moretti’s leaving his team there. I won’t need you.”

Strangely, his words didn’t sting as much as the thought of staying here without him. Even though Rayan had spent most of his life in Montreal, the thought of leaving felt insignificant. He barely recognized the person who’d existed before the family took over. Without realizing it, somewhere along the way, Rayan had tied his future to Mathias. He’d never harbored thoughts of his own promotion, preferring instead to remain ancillary, watching the man’s ascent with quiet pride. It pained Rayan to think of him treading water, attempting to find his footing alone in a new city.

Mathias took another pull from his cigarette and squinted into the sun. “Are we clear?”

Rayan wasn’t sure which of the thoughts churning inside his head to address first. Mathias did not want a scene—he wanted a soldier. It was just another order, no different from the countless others that had come before. Rayan didn’t fucking like it, but he would do it. That was what he was good at, after all: accepting whatever came his way, content to be a rock in a landslide, tossed about on a whim.

“We’re clear,” he replied, mirroring his boss’s impenetrable reception.

Mathias paused as though trying to read him. “Good,” he said finally, continuing along the path.

“Who’s going to head Commercial?” Rayan asked when they were back in step.

Mathias’s lips curled like he’d tasted something foul. He flicked the cigarette from his fingers and watched it bounce along the pavement. “Nothing’s confirmed yet. Tony will find someone. Or take some of it on himself. The man doesn’t trust easy.”

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