Page 57 of A Life Chosen

Mathias nodded, taking a sip of wine. Setting the glass down, he dropped his napkin beside the barely touched plate, not hungry. “And Piero?”

Giovanni stared back at him, chewing slowly, the hint of a frown tugging at his gray mustache. “Piero is waiting patiently in the wings. He’s recruited a handful of soldiers from within the family and, not unlike us, has made his own arrangements.”

Mathias did not give voice to the obscenity that formed on his lips. Instead, he swallowed and reached for his cigarettes, masking the extent to which mention of the man affected him. Giovanni swirled his wine and took a long gulp. He picked the knife and fork back up from his plate, his eyes steely.

“Now, what I want to know is,” Giovanni said, slicing cleanly through a chunk of pale flesh, “are we ready?”

Chapter

Twenty-One

After they’d finished for the day, Lorenzo headed home while Rayan stayed behind to talk to Tony about a contract he was reworking. He was sitting in his boss’s office, going over the daily takings, when the door opened, and Mathias walked in. Rayan blinked, surprised. He hadn’t known he was up from Hamilton.

“Beauvais,” Tony grunted. “What is it now, I wonder?”

“Giraldi.” Mathias mirrored him, reverting to their usual back-and-forth. His gaze flicked to Rayan. “You can go.”

Rayan frowned, holding his tongue. Standing, he picked up his paperwork then left the room, closing the door behind him. He considered waiting in the hallway for the men to finish—he still had things to discuss with the Collections head, after all—but decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as overeager.

Rayan sat down at an empty desk in the deserted office and thumbed through the pages of the contract he was too distracted to read. He’d been hoping to tweak the terms for incumbent councilor Pierre Larrivée, who’d used family money to pad his campaign budget and—now that the election was won—seemed less willing to pay it back. Rayan needed sign off to fast-track a second visit.

He heard the door to Tony’s office open and watched as Mathias strode past him toward the stairwell without so much as a glance. Not thinking, Rayan stood and went after him. At the bottom of the stairs, he caught the door before it shut and stepped out into the crisp night air. In his rush, he’d left his jacket inside.

“When did you get here?”

Mathias stopped and turned to Rayan with a scowl. “What’s it to you?”

The man continued to his car. He pulled open the door and slid in behind the wheel. Emboldened, Rayan followed, climbing in on the passenger side.

“This is getting old,” Mathias warned quietly.

Rayan stopped himself from reaching between them to touch Mathias’s face. “What was that with Tony?”

“Russian port fees.”

“You came all the way for that?”

Mathias’s eyes narrowed. “Focus on your own turf.”

Rayan looked at him, the resentment churning in his stomach. “For every time you tell me you’re here, there’s two other times you don’t.”

Mathias stared him down. “You’re not my second anymore, Rayan. I don’t need to tell you shit.”

Rayan yanked open the car door and slammed it behind him. He stalked back to the office. When he got inside he threw on his jacket, leaving the contract abandoned on the desk. He didn’t care if Tony was expecting him—he would sort it out the next day. He descended the stairs and strode into the parking lot, reaching into his pocket for his keys. Mathias’s black Bentley pulled out in front of him, blocking his path.

“Get in,” his former capo instructed from the open window.

Rayan pretended to consider, holding himself back for one breath in a feeble attempt at control. But he’d known. As soon as he’d seen the car, he’d known what he would do.

They’d gone from explosive, indiscriminate urge—a race to have their most base needs met, skipping everything else that might get in the way—to more hands, more mouths, a want to savor and make it last longer. Rayan didn’t know when the shift had occurred—neither of them had acknowledged it—only that it meant he got more of Mathias, greater reign over his body.

And still, Rayan was held captive by the unpredictable nature of Mathias’s presence in the city. He would go weeks without seeing him, sometimes months, only to be startled by the sound of the man’s key in the lock or to wake to find Mathias asleep beside him. Needless to say, when they did finally find themselves together, he lost all sense of control.

Back at his apartment, Rayan moved his mouth along Mathias’s cock, the desire ensnaring him, dulling his thoughts, straining between his legs. He felt a hand slip beneath his chin, lifting his head. Mathias pushed him backward onto the bed, kissing him hungrily. Rayan buried his fingers in Mathias’s hair, relishing the taste of his tongue in his mouth.

Propelled by a growing sense of urgency, he rolled Mathias over, straddling his hips. One hand traveled the length of the man’s cock, the other stretching, opening himself. Mathias lurched in his grip, and Rayan saw he was watching him closely, eyes clouded with lust. Fighting the heat rising along his neck, Rayan took him in, concealing a groan as he was filled, his body brimming with pleasure. This was what it yearned for in the time that lagged between seeing him.

On top, he was in control of the pace and the angle, but Rayan found himself unable to surrender. The frustration must have registered on his face, as Mathias flipped him onto his back, driving him into the mattress.

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