Blaze"Ugh, Christ!" I wake up with a little bit of pain shooting through my body, and my head a little light.I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling. It’s clean and white—too fancy for any hospital I know of. My chest tightens. Where the fuck am I?Sitting up slowly, I take in my surroundings. The bed’s softer than anything I’ve slept on in years. The room? Big, luxurious, and smells like expensive cologne. Definitely not my shitty apartment or the alley I passed out in.What the fuck happened? Did I die and somehow end up in a penthouse version of hell?I rub my temples, trying to recall something—anything—but my head pounds like someone’s using it as a fucking drum.“How do you feel?”The voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife. I freeze, recognizing that smooth, arrogant tone. I turn my head and, lo and behold, there he is. Carlo.Sitting there all smug, wearing a suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent. His hair slicked back, except for a strand falling ove
Carlo"Son, you barely even come home or call your mother. That’s not very nice," my mother says, her voice soft and composed, as if everything is peaceful.Hell, it’s not. My insides are on the verge of fucking combustion, and I’m sure as hell my father can feel the heat from where he’s sitting. My so-called brother, the prick I just found out about six months ago, is sitting across from me. I’m still trying to figure out how the fuck my mother is completely fine with this bullshit."Sorry, Mother. I've been really busy," I mumble, forcing out the words because I know she won’t let it go otherwise."If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t be so bothered, but the worst part is my only son has refused to bring a woman home."My fork freezes mid-air. “Not this shit again, Mother.”"What do you mean ‘not this shit’? The last time I saw you with a woman was three years ago. What kind of celibacy streak is this?!" She yells, waving her fork around like it’s some kind of weapon.I bite back the urg
Blaze"Damn it!" The boy behind me curses under his breath. "There's less than two hours for the race to begin, I don't even know that track. I wanted to do a little tour on my own before the race."I don’t turn around, but I hear him loud and clear. His voice is grating—one of those entitled brats who think whining solves shit. His friend, sitting in a corner, doesn’t seem to give a damn, scrolling through his phone with his leg crossed like he’s lounging at a spa."You gotta calm down, man. He’ll be done in a minute," his friend says, his tone indifferent.I grit my teeth. I don’t need this bullshit. My fingers are covered in grease, sweat sticking to my neck as I work the tire. The bike’s almost as good as new, but now I’m regretting even agreeing to this shit show."Hey, be quick with it, will you?" the kid snaps, his voice sharp and condescending. "You’re just changing the tires, right? You’re limping, so it’s slowing you down."That’s it. I stop, drop the wrench a little too har
Blaze"God, Blaze, we’ve got some rookies joining the race tonight," Felix says as we step into the arena, his voice dripping with excitement."That dude in the blue tracksuit seems like a good bet," he adds, nodding toward the track. I follow his gaze and spot the familiar face. The brat from earlier. What’s his name again? Max. Rude little shit. I scoff."Your biggest mistake if you try it," I mutter, glancing around for a seat. I need to relax before the game kicks off."Why’d you say that? Do you know him? Then it’s a good bet," Felix says, his curiosity clearly piqued."Know him? Hell no." I shoot him a sharp look. "Just a gut feeling." No way am I bringing up that whole damn interaction from earlier. Felix will just start bugging me to take the kid under my wing or some bullshit.We settle in, and the countdown starts. 3…2…1…The race kicks off, the roar of the bikes filling the arena as the crowd erupts in cheers and curses. People are screaming their heads off, some praying th
Blaze“Hey, limping dog, get the order here ASAP!” one of them yells.I bite down hard on my tongue. Bastards like this are everywhere, especially in places like this gay bar. It’s not the first time I’ve been called names or treated like some freak on display. The urge to smash his fucking nose into his face rises, but I take a deep breath instead. If I lose my shit here, Andrew will have my ass. And with all the VIPs in the house tonight, he’d probably fire me on the spot.I make my way to their table, balancing the tray of drinks. Their faces are plastered with smug grins, eyes roaming over me like they’ve never seen a guy in tight jeans before. I drop the drinks on their table, trying to keep it professional, but just as I’m about to walk away, I feel it.A fucking smack on my ass.I freeze, my hands clenching into fists.“Damn! He’s got a really tiny waist,” one of them snickers, his voice dripping with mockery. “He should be up on that stage dancing if it wasn’t for that one leg
Blaze “Hey, where the heck are you?” Felix’s voice blares through the phone, loud enough to make me groan as I turn over on my bed. “At home, where the fuck else would I be?” I mutter, staring at the ceiling, my eyes still blurry from sleep. “Damn it, Blaze! You promised to get my bike fixed. I got a kid renting it today!” he snaps. I rub my face, trying to wake up. “Jesus, Felix, stop yelling. You’re gonna make my ears bleed.” I sigh, dragging myself up. “Give me 30 minutes, okay? I’ll take care of it.” “You better,” he grumbles before hanging up. I toss my phone onto the bed and stretch, my muscles sore as hell. It’s been a month since Max started training. Kid’s got potential, I’ll give him that, but he’s still got a lot to learn. The next race is coming up, and he’s eager as fuck to make a name for himself. Basics are covered—I just need to show him the tricks that’ll keep him alive out there. Running my fingers through my hair, I remember tonight’s plan: meeting Mr.
Blaze"Your mother is sick?" Max's voice stops me mid-step.I turn slowly, narrowing my eyes at him. "That’s not something to bother about," I reply, walking straight to my seat. Dropping into it, I lean back, trying to relax. Like hell that kid’s going to leave me alone now."Is that why you’re having an affair with a married man?"His words hit me like a fucking truck. My brows furrow, my teeth clenching."Fucking hell!" I snap, cutting him off before he can spew more nonsense. "What the hell is your business? Didn’t I tell you not to bother about my life? Were you deaf when I said it?" My voice rises, and I can feel the twitch in my eye.Max freezes, his big puppy-dog eyes widening. He looks like a damn kid caught stealing cookies. His gaze drops to the floor and then flicks back up at me, all hesitant and shit."I just want to know if you’re doing okay," he says softly. "Fine, you see me as a kid and that’s why you rejected me. But at least let me support the champion I cherish. I
Blaze"Blaze?" I hear a familiar voice call as I step out of the club, the cold night air smacking me in the face.Max? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I shudder unconsciously. “What the hell are you doing here?” I spin around, raising an eyebrow at him. Damn bastard, calling my name like we’re mates or something. Not that I don’t find it cute how he always says it, but still.“Well, I was dragged to a gay club by my friends, only to find you here,” he says, grinning like a fucking golden retriever. Before I can tell him to buzz off, his excitement takes over, and he rushes toward me like a damn hurricane, pulling me into a hug.“Holy shit, how the hell are you even so tall? Now I look like your junior,” I grumble, craning my neck to look up at him. Seriously, this guy is built like a skyscraper.Max beams down at me, his smile so stupidly cute it makes my heart do a weird little backflip in my chest. Goddamn it.But then I feel it. An ominous, heavy-ass gaze burning into my side. My head snaps
Blaze“You’re staring.”Carlo doesn’t even flinch. He leans against the fence like he owns the damn place, arms folded, sunglasses hiding those eyes that I know are full of heat right now.“You’re showing off.”I snort, adjusting the strap of my helmet as I hop off the bike. Sweat slicks my back, my shirt sticking to me in all the wrong places, but the way Carlo watches me like I’m a damn god? Yeah, I could stay like this all day.“It’s called warming up, old man. You wouldn’t know anything about that since your ass is always parked behind a desk or on top of me.”His smirk curves up, slow and lazy. “You saying I’m outta shape?”“I’m saying your skills are probably rusted as fuck.”A few of the other guys laugh as they roll by. The track is full today—smell of burnt rubber in the air, engines roaring, tires screeching. I haven’t felt this alive in months. And having him here, watching me? Fuck, it does something to me. Twists my gut in the best way.“Wanna test that theory?” Carlo pus
Blaze“You better not fucking burn this place down,” I say, eyeing Carlo like he’s some ticking time bomb with a goddamn lighter in his hand.He just laughs, carrying a couple of shopping bags into the kitchen like he owns the goddamn world. Well, technically he owns this fucking house, so maybe he does.“I ain’t that bad, baby,” he smirks, dropping the bags on the counter like it’s nothing. “I can cook… a little.”“Yeah, fucking right,” I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. “You were raised with a goddamn silver spoon shoved so far up your ass, I’m surprised you even know what a stove looks like.”He chuckles again, that deep fucking sound that rattles straight into my bones. “Then I’ll assist, chef Blaze.”I roll my eyes but I can’t help the way my mouth pulls into a fucking smile. God, I’m a mess for this asshole.As I’m pulling out some veggies to start chopping, he’s unloading shit—meat, pasta, some fancy-ass sauce, even a goddamn bottle of wine. He looks so fucking proud of h
Blaze“You fucking serious right now?” Alexi says, kicking off her shoes and flopping down on the oversized couch like she owns the place.I throw a cushion at her. “Don’t get your nasty feet on my new shit, Alexi.”She flips me off without missing a beat. “Whatever. So you chose the scumbag, huh?”I grunt, dragging my hand through my hair. “I didn’t fucking choose him. It’s my stupid ass heart that did.”Alexi snorts like she doesn’t believe me. And maybe I don’t even believe myself, fuck. I mean, yeah, Carlo’s a manipulative piece of shit. But I seem to fucking enjoy his shit, it’s twisted. That’s the fucking problem.The mansion’s too damn big. Echoes of our voices bounce off the fancy-ass walls like reminders that I don’t even belong here. This whole place—every fucking thing—was bought by Carlo. Because I refused to stay in his goddamn penthouse like some kept little toy. And somehow… this felt less shitty. Like I could breathe here. Like I still had my own space.“You know your
CarloAfter one month of the accident that made Blaze consider my pathetic love, if I had known that was the solution I would have bumped into a tree a long time ago… I am back to the office.“If you don’t give me that fucking hotel, I’m gonna send the second drive to dad. And this one has more than just company shit, Carlo… this one proves you’re fucking a man. The heir to Davenport, the golden boy, the one he’s been grooming since we were kids… balls deep in a fucking guy. Think about that.”That’s how William walks into my fucking office at 7AM.No fucking good morning, not like we have good relationship to say pleasantries anyway, but straight up blackmailing me is fucking insane. Just like him.I lean back slowly in my chair, trying to pretend my head isn’t already throbbing from everything else going on. My jaw clenches, and I force my voice to stay calm even though every muscle in me is screaming to fucking pounce on him.“You’re bluffing.”“Am I?” William smirks, tossing a fla
Blaze“Felix’s drunk ass is at my bar again. You might wanna come get him before he breaks something.”That’s the fucking call I get at 1:34 a.m. Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse. I’m lying in bed, staring at the goddamn ceiling, half replaying Carlo’s bullshit from earlier and half trying to pretend I don’t care. But then that call comes in and all my attempts at peace flush straight down the fucking toilet.I drag myself out of bed, throw on whatever hoodie I can find, and head out. It’s not even about wanting to go. It’s guilt. It’s instinct. It’s… fuck, I don’t even know anymore. All I know is, Felix is at his worst, and I’m the only person who probably still gives a damn.By the time I get to the bar, it’s exactly what I expected. Dim lights, sticky floor, music too loud for this dead hour, and Felix slumped at the edge of the counter, head half in a glass, mumbling to himself. His face is flushed, eyes glassy. It’s that mix of broken and belligerent that onl
Blaze“Dude, that bike looks like it was smashed into a rock, the fall was messy,” Alexi continues to rant as we walk to the shop together, but my feet fucking freeze the moment we get to the front.“Woah, what a fucking handsome rich dude, he looks like the wealthy God from Greek. Damn, I suddenly remember I have a working pussy,” she whispers, eyes wide and stuck to the tall figure casually smoking in front of my shop like he owns the place.“What the hell, Alexi… Thought you were the top and you’re not into ‘dicks’?” I ask, forcing a smile, but the truth is, my stomach is in knots, flipping like it’s on crack.“Yeah, but trying it once with that gorgeous figure is an achievement,” she mutters. I don’t laugh. I can’t even move a fucking muscle.Carlo. That stupidly gorgeous bastard. His shirt is slightly open, tattoos on full display, hair slicked perfectly to the side, fucking polished from head to toe like he belongs in a mafia fantasy. His head’s down, so he hasn’t seen us yet, b
Blaze“You actually suck at this. Move. Let me do it.”Alexi snatches the wrench from my hand like I just committed some kind of sacred sin, and I don’t even fight her on it. I step back, wiping sweat from my neck with the back of my hand, watching her lean over the greasy engine like she owns the damn thing.“You know I’m still recovering from rich-boy trauma, right?” I mutter, lighting a cigarette and squinting at her through the smoke. “Three weeks out and I still flinch every time I see marble floors.”She snorts. “Yeah, well, this ain’t no penthouse, sugar. This is grease, fuel, and freedom. Welcome back to the land of the living.”I smirk a little.Three months. That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of Carlo’s place and didn’t look back. Since I shoved every memory, every fucked-up emotion, and every craving for his touch into a goddamn box and tossed it somewhere far away.This new place? It’s loud, rough, smells like gasoline and old tires, and I fucking love it. I open
Carlo“Whiskey. Double shot. Don’t go light.”The bartender doesn’t ask questions. Just pours and slides it over, it’s been a long time I came here but they still treat me like a regular. The glass hits my lips, and it burns like it’s supposed to. I stare at the bar stand where Blaze used to stand, all cocky and full of heat. It’s dead now. Cold. Like someone ripped the fucking soul out of the place.I down another.The club smells different without him here. It’s got that same stale sweat and desperation vibe, but it’s missing the spice. The fire. The fucking heartbeat. And I hate that I came here thinking maybe I could feel close to him. Maybe I’d see a shadow of him in the corners. Dumb shit like that.“You look like you need more than just a drink, man.”The voice comes from behind me. Smooth. Confident. I turn my head and there’s a guy—dark hair, pierced lip, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s offering. I don’t respond right away. Just stare.He’s not Blaze. But he’s got th
CarloDays pass.Then weeks.Then fucking months.Every morning I wake up hoping he’s on the couch. Hoping I’ll smell his skin again, hear him cussing at the coffee machine. But it’s just silence. Cold, empty fucking silence that echoes louder than a scream.The bed feels too fucking big. I roll to his side every night like a goddamn addict chasing a fix that ain’t there. I breathe into his pillow even though the scent’s faded. I still look for his towel on the bathroom rack. His boots by the door. But all I see is absence.I hire a private investigator. I pay triple to get the best. They come up with nothing. No name, no face, no trace. Like he never fucking existed.I start checking the places we used to hang out—bars, the old underground garage, that beat-up taco truck near Fifth where he always asked for extra hot sauce and never finished the food. I even go back to the last racing ring we chilled at, the one where he nearly punched a mechanic for scratching someone else’s car. I