Page 9 of A Life Chosen

Rayan blinked. He couldn’t think of anything less appealing. It was bad enough having to stand outside that curtain and try not to think about what was happening behind it. “Not really my thing.”

“What, pussy?” Mathias baited him, razor-sharp.

Rayan’s jaw tightened, a familiar turn of panic in his stomach, before he realized Mathias was teasing. “No,” he said gruffly. “Working girls.”

Mathias snorted. “Uppity, aren’t we? Suit yourself.”

The light changed, and Rayan stared straight ahead as they sped through the empty streets. Anything to escape his capo’s gaze.

Chapter Four

Mathias placed a carved wooden box of Dominican cigars on the desk in front of Tony Giraldi and pulled up a chair in his small corner office. Tony leaned forward with a grunt, opening the taut black seal and holding the box up to his nose. He nodded approvingly, offering the contents to Mathias.

“I can’t stand the damn things,” Mathias said, waving him away. It was the day after the announcement at Le Rouge, and he’d decided he owed Tony for putting him forward. Despite the transience of working for the family, he believed in giving credit where it was due.

Tony selected a cigar. He tapped the end down on his desk before raising it to his lips. He ran the division out of a second-floor commercial space on Saint Laurent Boulevard. Operating under the guise of Capital Lending & Consulting, he had everything meticulously recorded—contracts, invoices, receipts. If Revenu Québec wanted an audit, Tony would be ready and waiting. But delve a little deeper, and one might note the impressive scope of their client list and discover the true nature of the services billed, which covered the occasional friendly consultation with the likes of Mathias.

Tony held his lighter to the end of the cigar and puffed several times to get it started. A thick plume of smoke settled over the desk between them. He pulled the tube out of his mouth and turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. “They’re good.”

“They’d better be, for what I paid for them.”

“I suppose my congratulations are in order,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow.

“As are my thanks,” Mathias said. “For the recommendation.”

“You know me—the more work I can throw your way, the easier my life gets.”

Mathias smirked.

“And who the fuck else was gonna do it? Franco? Sonny? Christ, we’d be a goddamn laughing stock. Just look at that business with Armstrong.”

Mathias scowled. As if he needed the reminder.

“Surprised you managed to wrangle him in the end.”

Wranglewas an interesting choice of words.

Tony fixed him with a level stare. “Speaking of promotions, with you heading Commercial, the rest of the division could do with a reshuffle. Get you some extra muscle and maybe give the kid his big break. Think he’d be up to running his own team?”

Mathias felt himself stiffen, tempering the immediate jolt of possession that passed through him. The thoughts that had arisen so intensely the previous evening had not abated. Instead, they lingered, coloring the way his second had appeared that morning as he stood waiting at the Collections office—different somehow, as though in sharper focus.

“He’s quick, knows the rounds, the clients,” Tony continued. “Hell, he’s been shadowing you long enough. Seems a waste keeping him on as a meat shield.”

“Rayan’s an outsider,” Mathias said, careful to sound indifferent. “Without family ties, no one will work under him.”

Tony shrugged. “A captain without the title. That old-school bullshit is overrated anyway. Money talks, my friend. How do you think you’ve gotten so far?”

“He works with me,” Mathias replied flatly, ending the exchange.

A silence fell between them. Tony took another drag on his new cigar. “Must be some kind of a record.”

“What is?”

“Three years now, isn’t it? With the same second. I remember when we were down to a monthly rotation.”

“I blame your subpar recruitment. You should’ve seen some of the idiots you sent my way. Surprised I didn’t end up with a hole through my skull.”

“Kid must be doing something right.”

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