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“Pascal.” That was Stavros. “Something you want to discuss?”
Mathieu perched on the edge of his desk. “A fifty-fifty partnership.”
A heavy silence followed where Win tried to gentle his breathing. He didn’t know what Mathieu was up to but Win trusted him to do what was best for the both of them.
“That wasn’t on the table,” Stavros said finally.
“I’m putting it on the table.” Mathieu glared down at the phone. “Miami is mine. You might have the bulk of Jairo’s businesses, but I can make it so you never do business here. I’m personally acquainted with all the players you’ll need to make anything happen. If I tell them not to work with you, you’re shit out of luck.”
“We could just kill them all.” Stavros sounded bored.
“You could, but then you’ll have more than me as your enemy down here, and something tells me you’d prefer otherwise.”
“Hmm.”
Win’s anxiety spiked at the noncommittal sound.
“Fifty-fifty,” Mathieu repeated. “Which means we’ll be partners. You get all my contacts, networks, and resources, and I get half of the proceeds from Jairo’s businesses. You need me and I need you. Your success is mine and vice versa.”
Another lengthy silence followed and Win focused on Mathieu. His lover didn’t look as if he was worried about Stavros’ decision, so Win tried not to worry either.
“You have a deal.” That wasn’t Stavros. It sounded like Daniel Nieto. “We will be in touch.” And just like that, the call ended.
Mathieu blew out a breath, his shoulders loosening considerably. Win went to him, stroking his face.
“Was that a good move?” he asked.
“It’s the best move.” Mathieu caught his hand and brought his fingers to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “It’s the best move. A war was averted, one I’m not sure I would’ve won, which means you’re protected.” He swallowed, gaze heavy on Win’s face. “That’s all I want,” he said hoarsely. “I want you to be safe. To be happy. I’ll sacrifice anything to make it happen.”
“I am happy,” Win told him softly. “And I trust you to make sure that I’m safe. Thatwe’resafe.”
Mathieu wrapped strong, steady arms around him, and Win buried his face into the other man’s neck with a contented sigh.
EPILOGUE
Two months later…
Win stared at the large yellow envelope that sat on the kitchen table. He didn’t remember seeing it when he’d come downstairs earlier for his morning coffee. But it was there now. He frowned as he picked it up. The outside was blank, with no writing or stamps or anything to indicate who’d sent it or who it was meant for.
But nothing came into the house without the bodyguards doing a thorough search, so obviously, it wasn’t a threat.
He tore the envelope open and a postcard fell out first, floating to the floor. He ignored it and focused on the thick stack of papers he pulled out.
Legal papers.
His eyes widened when he readDivorce Decree. “What the fuck?”
“Win?” He glanced up as Mathieu entered the room. “What is it?”
Win shoved the papers at him without a word.
Mathieu read it then lifted a confused gaze to his. “Divorce decree?”
Win shrugged helplessly. “I don’t—” He bent and snatched up the postcard that had fallen to the floor, eyes widening at the familiar handwriting. “Oh fuck.” He shook his head to clear it and began reading out loud.
“Win, I hope you can forgive me for the way things turned out. It was necessary for reasons I can’t explain. But I figured you would need these documents since I don’t plan on—”
Win’s voice shook a little and he cleared his throat and tried again.
“Since I don’t plan on remaining dead forever. See you someday soon. Jairo.”
“Well, shit.” Mathieu shook his head, wrapping a comforting arm around Win’s shoulders and drawing him into his side. “That motherfucker is alive.”
Win had a million questions but they would have to wait until the day he did see Jairo again. Whenever that turned out to be. He gazed down at the postcard. “Yep, he’s alive.”
* * *
