Resisting the DevilThe sound of his own footsteps echoed as Rico climbed the narrow metal stairs. Each step groaned under his weight, a reminder that there was no turning back now. The intercom’s buzz still rang in his ears, low and commanding, threaded with something he couldn’t name.Fear?No.Curiosity?Maybe.Whatever it was, it had pulled him upstairs, though every instinct screamed to run the other way.To the office.The Boss was waiting when Rico pushed open the door. He was seated behind the desk, his sleeves rolled up, his cigarette burning in one hand. The light from the desk lamp shining bright across his cheekbones, making him look more like a painting than a man — something carved, not born.“Close the door,” the Boss said, with a calm voice but leaving no room for argument.Rico obeyed, shutting it behind him. He stood by the door, his arms were crossed, his chin high. “What do you want?”The Boss didn’t answer right away. He studied him —his eyes were scanning every d
The Fire SpreadsThe Boss wasn’t sleeping.He hadn’t slept well in days.Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rico.Defiant stare, that smirk that felt like a challenge and an invitation all at once.He told himself it wasn’t attraction, it wasn’t desire. It was control — or the lack of it. Rico was the first in years who’d said no and hadn’t paid for it with blood or exile. The first who didn’t flinch when he raised his voice, didn’t crumble when he gave orders.The first to stand in his office and look him in the eye.That defiance burned.Not just because it disrespected him, but because it tempted him.And that temptation was eating him alive.By morning, the air inside Boss’s Spot felt heavier. The boys moved slower than usual, glancing between each other like they sensed the shift but didn’t understand it.The Boss stood on the mezzanine with his arms crossed, watching them.Watching him.Rico worked at the far end of the bay, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair damp and sti
The Boss’s JealousyThe Boss wasn’t a man given to emotions at least, not the kind that showed.He’d spent years building walls — not brick with steel and glass. Everything in Boss’s Spot reflected that: clean lines, precise angles, no clutter and no chaos. The kind of control that made men kneel without being told.Control kept him alive. Control kept them alive.Since that night — the first and only time Rico had stood in this room and said no — something had been cracking in the walls he’d built, quiet cracks, hairline fractures. He noticed them in the ways: his hand were tightening when Rico laughed, his jaw clenching when Rico ignored him, the strange weight in his chest when someone else stood too close.Jealousy?The word itself tasted bitter. He’d mocked it in others, used it to manipulate men into loyalty, but he’d never felt it. Not until Rico walked through his door with those shake eyes and tough tongue, daring him to try.Now?He couldn’t stop watching him.Five screens
Curiosity Breeds TensionRico was scrubbing down the rims of a matte black Charger when he felt it again—that familiar burn. Not from the water or the degreaser. Not even from the midday sun beating through the open bay doors. No, this burn sat just beneath his skin, like someone was watching him, studying him and measuring every move.He didn’t have to look up to know who it was.The Boss.He was standing upstairs behind the one-way glass wall of his office, the same spot he always retreated to when he wasn’t on the floor. Hidden, detached and sovereign. But Rico had felt those eyes all day. Watching him during break, watching him clean and watching him eat.And ever since that first night—since Rico stood in front of that leather chair and said, “No, sir”—The Boss hadn’t tried to touch him again. Not physically. But the tension? It had only gotten worse.Now it followed Rico like smoke.“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” Marco muttered under his breath, stacking buckets beside
First Night, First ChoiceThe air shifted just after another midnight.It always did—subtle at first. The whir of the car wash went silent, the doors sealed, and the fluorescent lights overhead gave way to yellow, dull and buzzing like flies in a coffin.That was the cue.The end of business hours.The beginning of something else.Rico stood at the wash bay, he was rinsing out a sponge, his hands were slick with soap. He could feel it in his bones—the shift. The way the place breathed differently after dark. The way even the walls seemed to listen. He glanced up at the security camera perching above the garage door. Still red and still blinking.Still watching.Across the lot, Marco wiped his hands on a towel and returned the pressure hose to its hook. No one spoke, they didn’t have to. The silence says enough.“Go shower. He doesn’t pick dirty.” Jaylen said passing by Rico with a glancy. “He’s choosing tonight?” Rico raised an eyebrow.Jaylen’s eyes didn’t blink. “Always does. Ever
The House RulesInside Boss’s Spot, the day began like any other — water roaring through hoses, the clang of tools in the backroom, and the thick scent of cheap soap and diesel was clinging to the air.Rico dragged the squeegee across the car’s windshield, his muscles sore from another night on the floor. He hadn’t slept. Not really. Not after whatever the hell had happened between him and The Boss.He wasn’t sure what to call it.It wasn’t sex. Not even seduction. But it also wasn’t nothing.It was a test, a draw of lines and a shifting of power.And he had walked away — still standing.That was enough for now.“You gonna finish that car or let it roast in soap?” came a voice beside him.Rico blinked and looked to his left. Jaylen was leaning on the next car, long arms crossed, braided hair tied back. His eyes were sharp, but there was a hint of curiosity in them today. Less hostility and more study.“I’m finishing,” Rico muttered, dragging the squeegee again.Jaylen smirked. “You’v