Page 45 of A Life Chosen

He was done bowing to the whims of family elite in positions they didn’t deserve to hold. Moretti had gotten comfortable doing nothing because his standing meant no one was looking too closely—exactly the kind of man Piero was hoping to preserve in his unspoiled version of Giorgio Russo’s organization.

That’s how you stagnate. And then someone else moves in.

His lips pulled into a smile. Here he was, the bastard brat of a low-level bookie, having risen to one of the family’s highest ranks. He would not rot here like his predecessor. He had a reputation to uphold. Mathias was going to turn this city on its head. He would counter Piero’s plan to purge the family of its lack of tradition by building the most unconventional opposition the man could imagine.

“Who were you going to introduce me to?” Mathias sneered. “The pimps on the strip? Your black-rock dealer? I’ll save myself the embarrassment.”

Moretti’s mouth fell open. “The fuck do you think—”

“I appreciate the tour. I’ll take the keys. You can go.”

The former regional head exchanged a look with Cesare. Mathias knew he was overstepping, but as of last week, he outranked the man. This was his region now. What might have seemed a grievous mistake felt, instead, like the first sliver of control he’d reclaimed since Junior had pressed a gun to his head.

Moretti gave a short bark of a laugh, less amused this time, more sinister. “You’re welcome to it. And go see Truman. If we’re lucky, you’ll end up at the bottom of the lake before month’s end.”

He tossed the keys over his shoulder as he and Cesare left. They fell with a dull clunk on the filthy wooden floor. Mathias stood, listening to the thump of their footsteps on the stairs and the slam of the building door. A few moments later, tires squealed as they pulled out onto the street.

Beside him, Rayan nudged an empty bottle with the toe of his shoe. It rolled across the floor with a hollow clink. He stepped forward to pick up the keys.

“What next?” Rayan asked into the quiet of the room, handing him the keys.

Mathias almost laughed. He’d gone and obliterated whatever association he had with the departing regional head, and his second remained unfazed, waiting on his next instruction.

Mathias looked around the office, absently crunching the metal in his palm. “I’m going to torch the fucking place.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Jesus.” Mathias stepped into Tony’s office and shut the door behind him. “What’s wrong with you?”

It was clear the past few weeks had done a number on Tony. His eyes were dull and bloodshot, his skin pallid from lack of sleep.

“What’s wrong with me? This whole fucking place has imploded. Handing you Commercial was supposed to take a load off. Now I’m down two men—the two who happened to do most of the goddamn work around here.”

“Finally figured that out,” Mathias said, taking a seat. “Too bad it never reflected in my cut.”

“Haven’t missed the back talk,” Tony snapped. “We’ve got contracts coming out our ears and no one to collect. Soon, everyone’ll be shitting on us, thinking they can take our money and run.”

“You’ll manage,” Mathias said, pulling out his cigarettes and offering them to Tony. The older man took one and let Mathias light it for him.

“You seem perky. When are you leaving again?” Tony asked with a sneer.

Payback.Mathias scowled. “Seems everyone’s in a hurry to get me out.”

Even though he’d officially been out of commission for the last couple of weeks, Mathias still wore his suit, pressed and all. That was one thing that remained unchanged—no matter how difficult things got, he would not let anyone see him ruffled. He blamed his mother for that. There was strength in vanity.

Tony waved his hand, smoke curling through the air. “I’m talking logistics. When are you out of the city?”

“End of the week,” Mathias replied shortly. “They’ve already pulled Moretti. It’s a fucking mess.”

“Hey.” Tony grinned. “Now it’s your fucking mess.”

Mathias sucked on his cigarette, unamused. “Who have you got replacing me?” he asked, deciding it was time to address the elephant in the room.

Tony snorted. “You wouldn’t believe who was gunning for the job.”

Mathias flinched even before Tony spoke the name. “Motherfucker,” he growled, his jaw tightening.

Tony eyed him warily. “I put a pin in that real quick. Piero couldn’t make a dime if he rubbed two nickels together. I’m not letting him near my division.”

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