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“Lev’s business was going under and he needed a lifeline. Your father knew that and he wasn’t about to hand out any help. Lev felt your father owed him; after all, it was Lev’s father who’d died while trying to protect Moïse from that very first attempt on his life. Your father denied Lev what he thought was rightfully his by virtue of his father’s life and so Lev decided that would not stand.”
Something cold wrapped around Mathieu’s throat, but he didn’t speak, keeping his expression impassive as he silently bade Stavros to continue.
“Lev made friends.” Stavros held out his phone, and Mathieu’s gaze zeroed in on the photo there. Seven of them. Cesar and the rest of them. Jairo too. And Lev.
Motherfucker.He wanted to ask how Stavros knew any of that, but he couldn’t make himself speak through the roar of rage that was trapped in his throat.
“They all had their reasons for wanting Moïse Pascal dead, and so they plotted and they planned and they had your father killed. And when you took over, they used your grief as their way in to get what they wanted, what your father had denied them.”
Mathieu fisted his hands. He’d been out of his mind with grief, so lost. And he’d made so many mistakes, it seemed he’d be atoning for them up until they finally lowered his body into the ground. “What do you want?” he ground out, because Stavros wasn’t doing any of this without an ulterior motive.
“I hear Jairo Beltran is gone now,” Stavros said with such casualness that the hair on Mathieu’s nape immediately stood at attention.
“You two were behind that car bomb.”Jesus Christ.
Stavros’ gaze deepened and his lips curled. “Were we?” He shrugged. “Anyway, with Jairo gone, it appears we’ve miraculously found ourselves in possession of his businesses. All of them.”
Mathieu inhaled sharply. That meant—
“It means your short reign as the only power player in Miami has reached its end.” Stavros got to his feet, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt as he nodded at Lev Cooper’s head. “That can be a sign of our new partnership…” He paused. “Or it can be the start of a brand new war.” He winked and turned away, giving Mathieu his back as Nieto fell in step next to him and they headed for the door. “You decide,” Stavros called out without looking back.
42
HavingMathieu inside him was a singular pleasure Win would never get enough of. He knew the truth of it down to his bones.
Legs wrapped around Mathieu’s waist, fingertips digging into his taut ass cheeks, every thrust of Mathieu’s hips lifted Win’s ass off the bed. The sounds of pleasure Mathieu loved hearing got locked up in Win’s throat and he could only whimper as Mathieu fucked him hard and fast.
Then soft and slow.
Until Win was out of his mind, but he liked it like that. Loved it, actually. Just as he loved the savage grimace on Mathieu’s face when a particularly delicious zing of pleasure shocked Win’s eyes open. He loved that focused look in Mathieu’s lust-glazed eyes as he stared down at Win. Love was written all over his face, twisted as it was by pleasure.
Love for Win.
The sight of it did more for Win than Mathieu’s thick cock driving deep inside him, ramming against his spot over and over.
Knowing he was loved. Cherished. Adored.
Fuck, what more could any man want?
He arched his back, squeezing a hand between them to pull on his shaft, stroking himself in time to Mathieu’s sharp thrusts. Fucking himself on the other man.
Coming with a low cry, muscles tightening, throbbing.
“Win.” Mathieu’s hips stuttered. “Fuck. Ah shit.” His grip on Win turned painful, movements frantic, and then he was spilling inside Win.
Filling him with liquid warmth.
Mathieu collapsed half on, half off Win, head on Win’s heaving chest as they panted together. They didn’t speak, not when words were unnecessary. This was the way they greeted the sunrise nowadays, how they started their mornings. And Win loved every minute of it.
Mathieu was a busy man, so for the majority of the day, he had meetings and other business shit to deal with. Oftentimes, they didn’t get to see each other until dinner. But this moment right here, this they always made time for. To connect, to be, to feel each other. Win didn’t think he could love Mathieu more than he already did, but every morning he fell in love with his lover all over again.
He smoothed a hand across Mathieu’s shoulder blade. “You okay?”
Mathieu made a soft, contented sound and lifted his head. “I’m perfect.” Their eyes met and Win saw the truth in Mathieu’s. “Fucking perfect.”
Win grinned and leaned down to kiss him. “I mean, I wouldn’t say all that,” he murmured against Mathieu’s lips. “You aight.”
Mathieu chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but a knock came on their locked bedroom door.
