Chapter Twenty-Five
O n the way back to the house, Mathias had Rayan drop him off at the warehouse. He had no doubt it would be as Marsela’s lackeys had left it—wide open to the world, a treasure trove of high-value art sitting around for some light-fingered opportunist to help themselves.
He’d called Charles from the car on the drive to Calais and told him to expect a visit from the Osmani group.
He’d given Charles clear instructions to hand over the stash without incident.
At least Burim would succeed in setting right one of the evening’s wrongs.
Mathias had to give it to her—Marsela had pluck.
That or a death wish. He wasn’t entirely sure.
As expected, when they pulled up outside the warehouse, the roller door was still raised.
“I can wait outside while you lock up,” Rayan offered as Mathias got out of the car.
Mathias shook his head. He wanted to have a look around and inspect the damage.
Not to mention there was eight million in cash currently sitting in the trunk.
The sooner that made its way into the safe in the study, the better.
“Go on ahead and secure your little windfall. I’ll meet you back at the house. ”
He watched Rayan drive away then walked into the warehouse and pulled the roller door closed behind him.
Mathias surveyed the floor strewn with fallen frames and shattered ceramics and decided to leave the wreckage until the next day.
For the time being, he’d see if the office remained intact.
They didn’t keep much in the way of cash on-site, but that was where someone would go to look.
Mathias stopped dead in his tracks. From where he stood, he could see a light on inside the office. They’d left the warehouse in the afternoon, and there was no way the lights had been on then. Someone else had been here. Or perhaps they still were.
He reached for the pistol tucked against his hip and held it in front of him as he approached the door to the office. Through the window, he could make out a squat figure in a gray suit sitting behind his desk.
Mathias froze mid-step. Then he dropped the hand with the gun and pushed open the door. “Enzo fucking Carbone.”
Enzo was reclined in Mathias’s chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked the same as he always had, right down to the boxy cut of his suit. The man gave him a knowing smile and straightened up to stub out his waning cigarette in the ashtray on Mathias’s desk.
“De Luca was kind enough to let me know where I might find you.” He gestured at the office around them. “Nice little operation you’ve got here, Beauvais. What are you pulling in each month?”
Mathias returned the gun to his waistband, making no attempt to hide it. He knew better than to assume this was a social call. “I know you didn’t come here to talk shop.”
He walked over to the desk and reached for the half-empty bottle of Macallan standing on the corner. He and Elise were partial to the occasional glass on nights they found themselves working late. “So they sent you.”
“Could you imagine if Gabriele had come? You’d have plugged him between the eyes before he could open his mouth. You and I always seemed to have somewhat of an understanding.”
It was true. Of the three old men on the council, Enzo had been on the same page as Mathias more often than not. Mathias poured a generous serving of scotch into two tumblers. After the day he’d had, he would have preferred to drink straight from the bottle.
Enzo accepted his glass with a nod, and Mathias pulled up a chair, surprised at how much his body hurt as he sat down. Tomorrow would be painful. If I make it that far. There was no telling why the councilman was here or what that meant for him.
“You look a little worse for wear,” Enzo commented.
“I had to take care of a small problem.”
“An Albanian problem, by any chance? Trouble seems to follow you everywhere.”
There they were—the missing pieces falling neatly into place. “I have you to thank for that?”
Enzo shrugged. “The Albanians worship the ’Ndrangheta, and I still have a few friends in Calabria. They won’t be bothering you again.”
“You have my gratitude. I can only imagine what I owe you in return.” Mathias fixed him with a hardened glare. “Why don’t you tell me why the fuck you’re here?”
“I see your self-imposed exile has left you rough around the edges.”
“I was always rough around the edges,” Mathias snapped. “And it wasn’t self-imposed. Bianchi pushed me out.”
“I figured as much. I don’t think he quite realized the pressure that came with the position. Russo made it look easy. But that’s because he was a ruthless bastard. He had us all under his thumb. Things got to Giovanni, and he started making some bad calls.”
“Yeah, well, looks like he got what was coming to him.”
Enzo’s face darkened, and he placed his drink down on the desk with a dull thud. “The city is in chaos, Mathias.”
Mathias took a long swig from his glass and let the liquor burn his throat. “That’s not my problem anymore.”
Enzo studied him carefully. “That’s a rather shortsighted view. I think you’re missing the bigger picture here. Can’t you see it’s ripe for the taking? Not just Montreal—I’m talking the whole fucking country.”
Mathias was beginning to understand why the man was here.
“We need to right things, for stability’s sake.
There are a lot of interests at play, some from far afield.
This upheaval does no one any good, and the quicker it’s squashed, the better.
None of the Quintino are strong enough to make a bid at leadership.
We don’t have the skills or the sway. We’d only end up easy targets. But you, on the other hand…”
Mathias would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. A part of him itched at the prospect of that much power, the whole organization laid down at his feet. If my old man could see me now.
But the sentiment passed quickly. His father no longer had any hold over him.
Instead, he thought of Rayan. Would I hide him away, put him up in a nice apartment like some glorified goomah ?
Just like his mother—who’d spent his whole childhood sequestered so she could be ready and waiting any time his father wanted her.
Mathias would be expected to marry someone the council approved of, to keep up appearances as he drowned in a farce of domesticity. And children. That would be expected too. Perpetuating the torment that was supposed to end with him.
No. Even if he was the most powerful man in the country, nothing was worth that.
Mathias let out a low laugh. “You were just telling me how taxing the job was.”
“For some. I have a feeling you would prove the exception. You have what it takes, Mathias, you’re—”
“A ruthless bastard?” he said coldly.
“Well, yes, if you excuse the word choice.”
“Interesting, considering how quick the family was to overlook me for that very fact.”
Enzo sighed. “I know you’re still sore about how you were treated—”
“The family didn’t want me until I showed you what you were missing. And then you needed me because I worked harder than anyone else. I broke my back giving you exactly what you wanted.”
Because I needed it too. I needed to prove that I could.
“But that’s nothing new, is it? Using me, knowing there was nothing I wouldn’t do.
Knowing how desperate I was to be more than some illegitimate afterthought.
And I did it all. After Piero sent Junior to whack me, I didn’t retaliate, as was my due.
Piero fucked me over, and I spent six months sitting on my hands for the good of the family.
Waiting just long enough for Tony to get himself killed.
Left for dead, face down on the concrete.
” Mathias’s jaw clenched, and he swallowed the hard lump of guilt.
“Giovanni wanted me six feet in the ground or rotting in prison, and now you expect me to come back for more? For the good of the family?” Mathias shook his head ruefully.
“The faces change, but you’re all the same.
I needed it once. I don’t need it anymore. ”
Enzo scowled. “Have you fooled yourself into thinking that this menial life is worthwhile? That it makes up for everything the family has to offer?”
“Maybe I have.”
Enzo began to laugh. He lifted his glass to his lips and downed the contents. Setting the glass back on the desk, he stared at Mathias with a vague sort of curiosity. “Then perhaps I’m the fool.”
He rose from his chair, and Mathias did the same, steeling himself for the repercussions that would follow.
It wasn’t as though they could force him into the position, but they could make his life difficult for turning them down.
Mathias had been lucky to disappear this quietly in the first place—he figured Giovanni had something to do with that.
Enzo might decide that courtesy had lapsed.
Instead, Enzo offered Mathias his hand. Mathias hesitated, gauging the man’s intent, before reluctantly extending his own. They exchanged a firm shake.
“So long, Beauvais,” Enzo said with a smirk. “Hope it’s worth it.”
Mathias stood in the doorway to the office and watched Enzo make his way across the warehouse to the staff entrance.
He listened for the click as the door closed behind him.
Then Mathias returned to his desk and knocked back the remainder of his drink.
He gripped the glass in his hand and waited for the regret to surface, but all he felt was a calm clarity.
He didn’t have to hope. He knew.
Rayan parked in the driveway beside the house but couldn’t muster the energy to get out of the car. The clock on the dashboard said it was almost ten. Had it only been six hours since a frantic Elise had come to their door? He felt like he’d been up for days.
He let out a long breath. There was nothing for it. He was sitting on a veritable fortune that wasn’t going to hide itself.