Page 23 of A Life Chosen

Rayan silently reproached himself. He should know how things worked between them by now. Mathias led, and he followed. He would be a fool to think he had any say in the matter.

Chapter Nine

Mathias couldn’t stand it. His skin itched every time Rayan was close. He wondered how long this tension had existed between them, going unspoken, unexplored. They’d both stumbled into it so easily when given the opportunity. Mathias couldn’t decide what was more aggravating—having lost control or knowing someone had witnessed the dissolution. He barely recalled the sequence of events that had led to the sudden transformation between them, but he did know there had been no hesitation. Rayan—despite his usual acquiescence—had proven just as impatient as Mathias.

In the years he’d known him, Rayan had appeared to lead an unassuming life. Aside from his early inquiries into the man’s background, it was a life Mathias hadn’t spent much time considering. But there were signs, carefully hidden, that he was only now beginning to see, perhaps because he’d proven so adept at his own personal erasure.

Mathias paced the floor of his bedroom, sucking with restless vigor on his usual late-night cigarette. When he closed his eyes, he saw Rayan—the slick open mouth, the curve of his back, hips pressed against him.

He stopped, the cigarette clenched between his teeth, suppressing a groan. Mathias couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted—really wanted—to fuck someone so badly it scrambled his thoughts. He had done everything he could to supplant these images with something tamer. He’d gone to a woman in Rosemont, someone he saw when he wanted to steer clear of the family’s well-worn establishments. It had only served to highlight exactly what he was missing.

Maybe if it hadn’t felt so good… if he hadn’t wanted his hands on every part of the man, craved the swell of his cock in his fist… if he hadn’t come so hard, his mind emptying for one delirious moment as though he’d been erased. Maybe then, Mathias could bury this reckless lapse of judgment and move on.

Running a hand through his hair, he sat down on the edge of the bed. It was foolish to think adding Silvano to the team would do anything but amplify the deprivation. The distance made Mathias even more insatiable. He resented the way Junior’s presence curtailed what had once transpired seamlessly between him and Rayan. And still, his second said nothing. He showed up on time and did his job without question.

Mathias stood to stub out his waning cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand.Enough.He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake. He would not be so easily undone.

As Mathias climbed into bed, it dawned on him that perhaps it was restraint itself that was messing with him. Maybe it was simply a matter of getting this out of his system. Enough of anything naturally became its own deterrent as it lost its power. He would shake Rayan’s hold over him not through avoidance but by meeting it head-on. When it was done—when it had run its course and he’d tired of the man—Mathias could move past this madness.

Rayan half expected Mathias to say something about Silvano on the drive home. Sitting beside him in the passenger seat, he could tell Mathias was seething after another day of jobs and more of the same. There’d been blood on Junior’s knuckles that he refused to wash off, bursting with a manic energy that he’d yet to come down from. The kid had brought his own piece with him that day and carried it around like he was the hero in an action film. It had been a relief to finally drop the kid off at the office, along with their daily takings, Tony smirking away behind his desk and a cloud of cigar smoke.

Mathias pulled the car to the curb outside his apartment building, but Rayan didn’t get out. He felt his capo’s eyes on him, growing impatient.

“What?” Mathias snapped.

Rayan glanced at him. He had too much to say and nowhere to start. He clicked off his seat belt, opened the door, then stopped. Turning, he spoke into the space between them. “You hungry?”

Rayan was starving. After yet another fitful night, he’d woken later than usual and had to skip breakfast. Then a series of setbacks meant the day hadn’t followed its typical pattern. Lunch had been abandoned, and the coffee he’d managed to grab at the office had barely sustained him.

Mathias stared at him, silent. Then he reached out to cut the engine. They stepped from the car, and Mathias followed him into the building. Rayan placedhis wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter as Mathias shut the apartment door behind them. He hadn’t expected his boss to accept the invitation. He’d anticipated more of the same coldness. But hunger was a powerful motivator.

Rayan would never tell Mathias, but he enjoyed seeing him in his space—standing in the entranceway, walking through the kitchen. He tried not to think of the last time Mathias had been here. Rayan took off his jacket and draped it over a chair then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.

Mathias reached into his jacket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He paused. There was only one left.

“Rough day?” Rayan baited him, taking a wrapped chunk of roast beef out of the fridge.

Mathias had been chain smoking since they’d picked Silvano up that morning. He gave him a dirty look and returned the packet to his pocket, deciding against smoking his last one. “Chatty, aren’t we?”

He was in a bad mood. Rayan sliced thick chunks of bread and spread on a layer of mayonnaise. Mathias took off his jacket and pulled up a bar stool, watching as he carved slices of beef and stacked them onto the open bread.

“He’s going to do something stupid,” Rayan said, cutting open a dark-red tomato and reaching for a head of lettuce.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Mathias replied. “Like his father.”

Rayan pressed the top layer of bread onto each sandwich and moved them onto plates. He pushed one across the counter toward Mathias. They ate in silence, Rayan standing in the kitchen while Mathias sat hunched over the counter. The sandwich was good, kicking the edge off the gnawing hunger that had a way of jumbling his thoughts. Mathias seemed slightly less agitated after having eaten. He sat back on his stool as Rayan tossed the plates into the sink.

“Are you happy here?”

Rayan looked up at him in surprise. “Happy?” he repeated.Am I happy?It wasn’t a question he asked himself. Happiness had always felt like a concept that belonged to other people.

“With the job, the work.” Mathias frowned, a tweak of irritation tugging at his lips.

Rayan was housed, clothed, fed. Every week, Mathias handed him a brown envelope with more money than he could make use of. Compared to all those years with nothing, what more could he want? But there was something else that chased him—a need for purpose, connection. Something to fill the dark void that descended at night, threatening to overwhelm him.

“Yes,” he said finally, not wanting to tarnish his need for a simple answer with the complexity the question invoked.

Mathias did not look convinced. He drummed his fingers against the counter, unsatisfied. Sometimes, Rayan felt he would have an easier time dealing with the man if he wrote up a damn script.

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