The interior of Damon's Mercedes smelled of conditioned leather and the lingering, sharp scent of his cologne. It was a pristine, controlled environment—usually Damon's sanctuary during the morning commute.
Today, it felt like a cage.
The rain had let up, leaving the roads slick and grey. Damon gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, his eyes fixed on the taillights of the car ahead. Beside him, Leo was adjusting the passenger seat, humming softly to the classical music playing low on the stereo.
Damon was hyper-aware of every movement. He could see Leo out of the corner of his eye—the way the boy curled his legs slightly toward the center console, the way his striped sweater rode up just an inch when he reached for the vent, exposing a sliver of pale skin at his waist.
'Stop looking,' Damon ordered himself, tightening his grip on the leather wheel until his knuckles popped. 'He's just sitting there. Focus on the road.'
"You have nice hands," Leo said suddenly.
Damon nearly swerved into the next lane. He corrected the wheel, glancing briefly at his stepson. Leo wasn't looking at the road; he was staring intently at Damon's hands on the steering wheel, his chin resting on his palm.
"What?" Damon asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
"Your hands," Leo repeated, his tone conversational, as if commenting on the weather. "They're strong. Capable. Most guys my age have... I don't know, softer hands. Whatever."
He shrugged, turning to look out the window, leaving the compliment hanging in the recycled air.
Damon felt a flush creep up his neck, hiding beneath his collar. It was such an odd, specific thing to say. "Manual labor was part of the job before I moved up to management, Leo. You don't get soft hands moving crates."
"I like it," Leo murmured to the glass.
The silence stretched again, but this time it felt heavier, charged with an energy Damon couldn't name. He cleared his throat, desperate to shift the dynamic back to something parental, something safe.
"So," Damon started, his "CEO voice" kicking in. "How are classes going? Your mother mentioned you're looking into electives for next semester."
Leo turned back, tucking a leg under himself on the leather seat—a casual, youthful posture that made him look small. "They're okay. Boring. Actually, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. My advisor said I need to secure an internship for the summer to get my credits for the Business Admin degree," Leo explained. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, looking nervous. "I've been applying to a few places, but... nobody wants to hire a student with no experience."
Damon nodded, feeling on safer ground. Career advice. He could do that. "It's a competitive market. You need a solid resume. I can take a look at yours if you want, give you some pointers."
Leo looked up, his green eyes shimmering with hope. "Would you? That would be great." He paused, biting his lip. "Actually... I was wondering..."
"What?"
"Well, Blackwood Logistics is one of the biggest firms in the city," Leo said tentatively. "I know you hate nepotism, and I totally get that. I don't want a handout. But... maybe you know someone in HR? Just to get my application looked at? I'd start at the bottom. Filing, coffee runs, whatever."
Damon frowned, watching the traffic light turn red. He braked smoothly.
Bringing Leo into the company.
His gut instinct was a sharp no. Work was his escape. It was the one place where the confusing, suffocating atmosphere of his home couldn't reach him. Having Leo there—seeing him in the hallways, in the breakroom—felt dangerous.
"Leo, I make it a rule not to hire family," Damon said gently. "It complicates things. If I have to discipline you, or if people think you're getting special treatment... it's not good for morale."
"I know," Leo sighed, slumping back against the seat. "I told Mom you'd say that. She said I should ask Uncle Mark, but his firm is in Jersey. I'd have to move out."
Damon's head snapped to the side. "Move out?"
"Yeah. It's too far to commute," Leo said, looking miserable. "I'd probably have to get a dorm or a cheap apartment over there. I wouldn't see you guys much."
Damon felt a sudden, irrational spike of anxiety. Leo moving out? Leo living in some run-down apartment in Jersey, away from the safety of the estate? The house would be quiet. Empty. No one to fix his tie. No one to make him coffee.
The thought made his chest ache.
'He's an adult, Damon. He has to leave eventually,' his rational mind argued. 'Not yet,' his heart countered selfishly. 'He's not ready.'
The light turned green. Damon pressed the gas, his decision made before he processed it.
"Don't call Mark," Damon said abruptly.
Leo looked over, eyes wide. "What?"
"I said don't call Mark. You don't need to move to Jersey." Damon kept his eyes fixed on the road, refusing to look at the boy. "Submit your application to HR at Blackwood. Use your legal name so they don't immediately flag the connection. I'll... I'll mention to the hiring manager to pull it for an interview."
"Really?" Leo's voice pitched up.
"You have to earn it in the interview, Leo," Damon warned sternly. "And if you get the job, you're an intern. Not my son. You answer to your supervisor, not me. No special favors. Understood?"
"Yes! Yes, absolutely!" Leo beamed. He reached across the console, his hand landing on Damon's forearm.
Damon flinched. The heat of Leo's palm through his suit jacket was searing. Leo squeezed, just once—a firm, possessive grip—before pulling back.
"Thank you, Damon," Leo whispered. "I won't let you down. I promise."
"Just... do a good job," Damon mumbled, focusing intensely on the GPS screen.
They pulled up to the curb of the university campus a few minutes later. The rain had started again, a light drizzle coating the windows.
"I'll see you at dinner?" Leo asked, hand on the door handle.
"I might be late. Board meeting," Damon said.
"I'll save you a plate," Leo promised.
He hopped out of the car, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. He leaned down, waving through the passenger window with that bright, sunny smile that fooled everyone.
Damon watched him walk up the steps to the main hall, watched the way the other students glanced at him. Leo was beautiful. It was an objective fact. And now, he was going to be in Damon's office. Every day.
Damon groaned, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. "What the hell am I doing?"
He put the car in drive and pulled away, unaware that Leo had stopped at the top of the stairs.
Leo watched the black Mercedes disappear into traffic. His smile vanished, replaced by a cold, triumphant smirk. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, thumbing a text to his mother.
Dad agreed to let me apply! He doesn't want me to move away. <3
He pocketed the phone, his hand brushing against the tissue he had stolen earlier.
"Jersey," Leo scoffed under his breath. "As if I'd ever leave you."
He turned and walked into the building, already planning which outfit to wear for his interview. He needed something professional, but tight. Something that would make Damon regret hiring him, and terrified of firing him.