Tempting | My Brother's Best Friend [18+]

Bonus 1

Noah's Point of View 

I stand against the stack of boxes in my boss' office, glancing between the picture of his smiling family on the desk and the scowl on his face. Believe it or not, the scowl on his face in the picture is even bigger. Says a lot about his marriage. 

"You wanted to see me?" I ask. 

"What's that piece of shit sports car doing in my garage again?" 

My eyes roll back and my body slouches. 

"Don't start with me, Laurier," he quips. "I don't like you cleaning up Damien Mierro's messes." 

Damien Mierro, arguably the person I hate most in the world, likes familiarity with the people he asks favours of. He's known me since I was fifteen, thinks he had the biggest hand in my late upbringing, and therefore always brings his fucked up cars to me personally. 

His BMW currently lies in my area, pulled completely apart because I can't figure out how he fucked it up this time. He's always tinkering with it like he has any idea how an engine works, and it always inevitably ends with about fifteen hours of my labour time taken up with fixing an idiots mistake. Today being no different. 

"He pays like everyone else," I say. 

Standing up for him feels like losing. I've never been at war with Damien Mierro, but these days it sure feels like I am. Every time his sheep call me, every time his car turns up outside the garage, every check up text I get from him; I'm reminded that he'll never let me go. That I've lost this silent war. 

Then again, at least I'm not dead. 

Vinnie, the boss, scoffs. 

"I'm staying late to fix it anyway," I shrug. "I'll still have Mrs Chen's Subaru back to her first thing tomorrow morning - all that needs doing is her tracking. It's an hour, tops." 

"I don't like you here alone at night." 

This time I scoff. 

Nobody says it to my face, but I know what I look like. I know the tattoos scare people, that I've got dark hair and sharp eyes and skin that isn't white - I know that people cross the street when I'm approaching because I look like trouble. 

I've got as good a chance in a fight as the next guy, but nobody ever tries it on with me. 

I used to think that was Damien Mierro's doing too. People were scared because I was associated with him. Then I left, and still nobody picked a fight - it was me after all. 

"You're joking, right?" 

He waves an arm in front of me. "If someone broke in here, you'd be about as capable as a wet fly. That skull on your neck doesn't scare me, Laurier." 

He's got a point. 

"So you don't like Mierro, you don't like me being alone, and you don't like the tattoos either. Is this what you asked me in here for? Because to be honest, I was hoping you'd make me a latte with that new fancy coffee machine your wife bought you." 

He glares at me but spins in his office chair either way, putting his guest cup under the machine and pressing the latte button. I grin behind my sleeve. 

Vinnie acts like he's a complete prick, but he's got soft spots. 

He didn't think twice about hiring me when I showed him the vast amount of experience I had with cars, even though I didn't have the actual qualifications to back it up. He didn't question the tattoos, the shaky school history, nor the large employment gap I had when I was kicked out of said school.