Page 58 of A Life Chosen

“Ask for it,” Mathias demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

Rayan’s pulse hammered.

“I want you to…” Mathias prompted, grinding into him, a moan escaping through his teeth.

Rayan flushed violently, looking away, distancing himself from his own shamelessness. “Fuck me,” he whispered. “Hard.”

Mathias’s lips curled. “That wasn’t so difficult.” Then he proceeded to give Rayan exactly what he wanted.

“He pissed himself?” Mathias snickered, pouring more scotch into his glass.

He sat at Rayan’s kitchen table in only his slacks, his shirt on the floor by the bed. Propping his legs up on the chair beside him, he looked utterly in control. The beast had been tamed—for the moment.

“First time Renault’s given us trouble,” Rayan said, recalling the terror on the construction magnate’s face. “Maybe he thought we’d go easy on him.”

The microwave dinged, and he pulled out a plate of leftovers, the sweetness of shredded lamb wafting through the small apartment.

“Why you insist on making this place smell like a roadside stall is beyond me,” Mathias said as Rayan sat across from him, setting the food down on the table.

“There’s only so much French peasant food I can take,” Rayan said, picking up his fork. It was almost nine, and he hadn’t eaten since lunch, other things naturally taking precedence.

Mathias reached over and picked up a chunk of meat with his fingers. He chewed slowly, looking not unimpressed. “Things are going well, then?”

Rayan shrugged. “Is that hard to believe?”

“Working with Lorenzo? Yes.”

“I wouldn’t say he works. More shows up. Grudgingly.”

“Look at you,” Mathias scoffed. “A natural leader.”

The derision was clear, but Rayan let it slide. The sentiment was one he shared. He hadn’t asked for the responsibility. “How’s Hamilton?” he asked, regretting the question immediately.

Mathias frowned and took a long swig from his glass. When he put it down, his face was stony. “Fine.”

“I’ve heard rumors about your work with the Reapers. Apparently, De Luca’s never seen so much blow come through the port.”

“Just rumors.”

“Liar.” Rayan took a bite of lamb. He wanted to say something but, at the same time, knew what a minefield the subject was. “Jacques still around?” Rayan had met him once at a meeting with Tony that Mathias had driven up to attend. He’d found the man simple, not qualified to protect his former boss.

Mathias stared at him. “Are you fishing, Rayan?”

“He seems slow, unreliable,” Rayan said, scooping up a forkful of rice and shoveling it into his mouth.

Mathias rolled his wrist to reveal the faded scar along his forearm. “Happened on your watch if I remember correctly.”

Rayan bristled. “Only because you were drunk.”

Mathias smirked. “He knows his place. More complacent, less complicated.” He gave a low chuckle and reached over to thumb Rayan’s swollen lip. He had bruised it with his teeth. “Not what you were after?”

Rayan pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. He felt a familiar prickle of defensiveness. “Just asked if you were working with the man.”

Mathias picked up his abandoned fork, stabbed it through a piece of meat, and brought it to his mouth. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned with who’s watching your back. Lorenzo isn’t exactly quick on his feet.”

“He doesn’t have to be,” Rayan retorted. “Worst I’ve got coming after me is a shady politician. You, on the other hand…” They both knew Mathias had accumulated powerful enemies before his expulsion from the city.

Mathias studied him, swallowing. “For looking like it was run over by a truck, this isn’t half bad.”

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