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He fisted his hands. The thought of Win being hurt was unacceptable to him.
Even though he’d done just that. He’d hurt Win and he knew Win would argue that was far worse than a gun butt to the face. To hide his inner turmoil, Mathieu called Jason to bring them an ice pack that Win held to his face as he sank into the closest chair. The two of them in such close quarters was a definite bad idea, but Mathieu didn’t want Win around the other men, most of whom didn’t know his face, only his call name. He couldn’t allow them to learn Win’s true identity. He trusted his men with his life, but not with Win’s.
He watched as Win pressed the ice pack to his face with a wince. “How are you going to explain this to your husband?” he asked.
Win ignored the question, responding instead with one of his own. “What are we going to do about the bodyguard?”
“Kill him?” Simple enough.
But Win rolled his eyes. “Which will make Jairo tighten security even further. No killing.”
Okay, but… “Why does he think you need a bodyguard now after all this time? What’s changed?” Was there a threat to Win that Mathieu wasn’t aware of?
“He hasn’t said.”
Mathieu sat opposite him and leaned forward. Faint marks around Win’s throat caught his attention and had him narrowing his eyes until he remembered the last time they’d been this close, he’d grabbed Win. He’d left those marks. Had Jairo seen them? “I thought you married folk were supposed to share everything and keep no secrets?” No hiding the bitterness in his voice.
Win just stared at him. “Is that what you want? For me to share everything with him? Tell him about you?”
Yes!Mathieu shrugged. “Up to you. The decisions have always been up to you.”
Win snorted. “Have they?”
Were they still talking about Jairo? Mathieu leaned back slowly. “Something on your mind?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Share it then.”
Win’s jaw stiffened. “You should put on a shirt,” he murmured as his gaze skated away.
Mathieu’s lips twitched. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” He’d jumped out of bed without bothering to grab a shirt and now he didn’t regret it one bit. He liked Win’s eyes on him. And he liked the darkening of color on Win’s cheeks too. “Answer the question. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Lots of things are on my mind,” Win murmured. “Right now, I want a solution for this bodyguard shit. What do we do?”
Mathieu had always been solitary in his business dealings ever since he took over from his father. No partners, no one to question his actions or act as some unwanted conscience. But once he and Win had gotten together, they’d operated as if from one brain. Win was the only man in his life who could make demands, talk slick, and challenge him without repercussions. The ease of their companionship had been fucking magic.
But of course, Mathieu had fucked that up. There wasn’t a moment that went by where he didn’t regret what he’d done, if for no other reason than the disillusioned way Win watched him now. There’d been a time when trust and happiness stared back at him from Win’s gorgeous eyes. Contentment and love.
Now, there was only pain.
Pain Mathieu had caused.
He would do anything to fix what he’d broken. He owed Win that much. “You don’t do anything,” he said in response to the other man’s question. “I just need a name. I’ll handle the rest.”
Win narrowed his eyes. “But you won’t kill him.”
“You asked me not to, so I won’t.”
Win’s expression said he clearly didn’t believe that was the reason, but he got to his feet, placing the ice pack on the nearby desk. “I’m gonna go.”
Mathieu stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward him when Win offered zero resistance. When they were face-to-face, he touched Win’s throat, tracing the faint marks there with barely concealed satisfaction. “Did he see these?” he asked softly. Did it anger Jairo? Did it eat away at him knowing another man had his hands on his husband?
Win pressed his lips together but didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Mathieu smiled and before he could talk himself out of it, he ducked his head, burying his face in Win’s throat. Inhaling him, allowing Win’s scent to carry him back to another place and time. However short the visit.
Win gasped and staggered back a step before his arms came up and around Mathieu, holding him briefly before wrenching himself away. “Don’t—Don’t do that.”
“I miss you.” He’d said it before. He’d say it again. He hadn’t known what he had to lose until he tossed it away. Hadn’t been appreciative of having Win in his life until he found himself on the outside looking in, hoping for scraps of Win’s attention.
“My heart bleeds for you,” Win sneered. “But I’m sure you have someone you can call to make you feel better and forget all about me.”
Mathieu closed the distance between them again, gaze dropping to the evidence of his handprint around Win’s throat before meeting his eyes. “There are lots of people I can call, yes.” He nodded. “But none of them can or will ever make me feel better. That’s—only one man can do that. And Win…” His chest tightened when Win’s stare fell to his mouth then quickly darted away. “There is no forgetting you.”
