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Win nodded then lifted his head. “Yes.”
Disappointment and hurt stared back at him from Mathieu’s darkened eyes. The other man got off the bed. “I need a minute.” And he limped out of the room without looking back.
23
Mathieu pacedoutside Win’s room. His mind was a mess and he needed it to right itself before he went back in there. He fisted his hands against the need to punch something. Someone.
It wasn’t real.
How could a whole marriage and relationship not be real? How could he believe what Win just told him?
“Our marriage is in name only…You were the last man I shared anything physical with.”
It’d been years since he’d had Win in his bed. Years, since he’d found out about Win and Jairo, and damn near lost his mind. And it had all been a lie?
For what purpose?
“What’s going on?”
He’d forgotten Jason was close by. Mathieu turned to the other man, who eyed him cautiously. He couldn’t quite name the mixed ball of emotions swirling in his chest. Anger? Yes. Hurt? That too. Why would Win lie about something so big, so important? But then he recalled that part of Win’s statement again, Win’s voice so clear, as he shared that he hadn’t been touched since Mathieu.
Guilt. Shame. Add them to the mix, because Mathieu couldn’t say the same now, could he? He’d lost his fucking mind for a span of a good two years where he couldn’t recall the names or shapes of the people he’d fucked, but there’d been tons of them. So many as he fought to drown his guilt for what he did to Win and his own hurt feelings for what Bishop turned around and did to him.
And all the while, Win was out there in a sham marriage.
For what?
A hand on his shoulder jerked his attention back to Jason and his question. The other man wanted to know what was wrong but Mathieu had nothing for him. Hell, he had nothing for his own damn self. He didn’t want to go back into that room and listen to Win’s reasons for why he’d locked himself into a marriage with Mathieu’s enemy. When Mathieu had first heard of Win and Jairo’s union, he’d figured it’d been a spite move on Win’s part. A way to hurt Mathieu. Which…Win had done so fucking beautifully. He’d torn Mathieu apart with that marriage. No way he’d expected it to last. But it did. Year after year. Then Mathieu had to change his mind. Had to accept that Win actually loved Jairo. Chose him over Mathieu.
But if it’d been in name only, what had been the goal of that? Who benefited from a fake marriage?
He spun away, ignoring Jason, and went back into the room.
On the bed, Win sat up with a noticeable wince, watching him approach. “Mathieu, I’m—”
“Who benefits from a fake marriage between you and Jairo Beltran?” His voice was hoarse, and Win could probably hear the hurt and confusion Mathieu hadn’t done a proper job of hiding.
Win licked his lips. “We both do.”
What did Jairo have that Win wanted? That he needed? Mathieu put that question off until he was more certain that he could handle the response. Instead, he asked, “Jairo’s benefit is what?”
Win’s gaze darted away. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”
Mathieu stood next to the bed and stared down at him. All that standing wasn’t doing his busted-up leg or his head wound any favors, and Samirah was likely off somewhere cursing him out, but he held the position. Win didn’t look at him and jealousy tightened Mathieu’s gut, like a hot fist squeezing his insides. “Even now, after what he did to you, you’re remaining loyal to him?” His voice was a scratch of sound. “You’re protecting him and guarding his secrets even after he left you to fucking die?”
Win shook his head, eyes fierce and flashing when his gaze landed on Mathieu’s. “I’m not protecting Jairo!” His voice rose and he cut himself off, pressing his lips together. “I’m not protecting Jairo,” he repeated in a softer tone. “Trust me.”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Mathieu lashed out. “I can’t trust you.”
Win reared back as if Mathieu had punched him in the jaw. “How fucking dare you? You’re gonna say that shit to my face?” His lips trembled. “With your whole fucking chest, after what you did to me?” He poked his own chest.
“I’m sorry.” Goddamn it. “Win, I’m sorry. Please.” Mathieu went to him, cradling Win’s face in his hands, holding on when Win tried brushing him away. He pressed a kiss to Win’s temple.“Mwen pa konprann,”he murmured. I don’t understand. “Help me understand.”
Win ceased his struggles after a while, holding himself stiff in Mathieu’s embrace. “Jairo needed a husband,” he spoke against Mathieu’s chest. “I needed to kill the feelings I had for you.”
“And hurt me.” He hadn’t known devastation until he saw Win and Jairo together.
“And hurt you.” Win nodded. He pulled away and Mathieu slackened his hold just enough for Win to look up at him. “I know he didn’t kill your father. I know it for a fact. He wasn’t in the country when it happened and he hadn’t sanctioned it. It wasn’t any of his people.”
