10. Corbin
CORBIN
I spent the day doing every filthy clean-up chore Beau could find to assign me. The only bright spot was getting a piece of king cake with my lunch. I loved to party, but I’d always found Mardi Gras too crowded and full of tourists. King cake was my favorite part of the season, though.
By the time the shop was closing for the day, my hands were so dirty I didn’t think I’d ever get them clean.
There were grease stains on my coveralls, and the last time I’d gone to the bathroom, I’d noticed streaks of dirt on my face.
I’d been too worn out to even bother cleaning them off.
My hair was a fucking mess. I’d barely done anything to it that morning, and now it had gone feral on me.
“Corbin!” Sam, a woman who seemed to be Beau’s second-in-command, called to me as I stared down at the floor. I was supposed to be mopping, but I was so tired I could barely move. “Beau said to tell you to get cleaned up and changed so he can drive you home.”
Drive me home? Oh, right. I’d driven home the night before in a loaner so I could leave Remy’s car. “Thanks.”
“You better hurry. He seemed impatient to get going.”
I could barely walk, and he wanted me to hurry. I’d get my own damn ride if he was going to be like that.
I shuffled to the bathroom and started cleaning up.
The soap in the pump bottle on the sink didn’t seem to be cutting it, so I opened the cabinet underneath to see if there was anything else there that might help cut through the grease.
The only things I found were a plunger, a toilet brush, and a Ziploc bag that held…
Holy shit. There was a hat inside, and it was covered in what looked like blood.
Where had it come from? What was it doing there, and whose was it?
The idea that Beau or one of his employees had killed someone didn’t faze me.
I’d yet to end any lives myself, but once Remington agreed to let me be a full part of the family business, I knew it would happen sooner or later.
I wasn’t afraid of it. I’d been around death since I was a kid despite my mom trying hard to shelter me.
What bothered me was not knowing who the hell was dead, or why the hell a blood-stained hat had been hidden under the sink.
I put it back where I’d found it. I wasn’t about to say anything, but I was sure as hell going to listen and see what I could find out.
I needed to know what Beau was mixed up in if my family was going to do business with him.
I got my hands and face as clean as I could. I’d have to do a full facial routine when I got home. Then I carefully stripped off the filthy coveralls and put my suit back on. It was looking rough. I’d have to have someone take it to the dry cleaners immediately.
By the time I walked out to meet Beau, I was tired, sore, and angry.
“You gave me every shit job you could think of, didn’t you?”
Beau grinned. “And you did them all.”
“I didn’t have a fucking choice.”
My cock twitched as his eyes moved over me. “Is that true?”
“I need the fucking car fixed.”
He took a step closer to me, and I sucked in my breath. He looked menacing and oh-so hot. “Then shut up and take what you get.”
I wouldn’t let him talk to me like that. “You’re right. I don’t have to put up with this.” I turned and headed toward the door.
“Corbin.”
I ignored him as I pushed the door open, wishing it was one that could be satisfactorily slammed rather than the kind that swung closed on its own, and headed out into the lot in front of the shop.
Once there, I froze. I could either drive Remy’s Ferrari home—not that it was anywhere in sight. It damn well better be safe somewhere in the second of the two warehouse-sized buildings behind the office—or I could call someone to pick me up. Neither appealed to me.
Heat rushed to my face. What the fuck was I doing except proving Beau and Remy right. I’d stomped off like a brat rather than having a mature conversation. I’d worked all damn day, but I’d bitched the entire time.
I’d wanted to prove Beau wrong. That was part of the reason I’d agreed to this ridiculous bargain, but once again I’d made a fool of myself.
My eyes stung, and I fought hard against the tears I absolutely refused to shed.
No way in hell was I going to cry over this.
Jesus, what kind of child would I be then?
I heard the door open behind me, but I didn’t turn around.
Beau brushed past me. “Come on, brat. Get in the car.”
Lights flashed on a black MX-5 Miata that was parked at the side of the building. At least I’d have a fun ride.
“I don’t see any security here,” Beau said as he pulled up in front of Remy’s house.
That was because I’d asked them to leave.
For once, I wanted to be completely on my own.
Connor, one of the guards that had been with my family for ages protested, but I assured him I’d be fine.
“I can actually take care of myself. I get that you don’t believe that any more than my family does, but no one is going to fuck around with Remy’s house while I’m here. ”
“But what about you? Will you be safe? Remington can afford to replace anything in that goddamned house, but he can’t replace you.”
I stared at him. Why did he care? “I don’t… The only reason he has security here is to protect the house.”
“So Remy and Henri don’t matter.”
“No, that’s not—Why are you like this?”
“I already told you. It’s fun.”
How the fuck was I supposed to stop being a brat when he kept doing everything he could to bring it out in me. “I’ll see you tomorrow for another day of torture.”
I started to get out of the car, but Beau seized my arm. “You do realize without you there, all of us would have shared those jobs. I’m not assigning you anything I don’t do myself.”
“You mean you don’t have…”
“Servants? No. Most body shops don’t come with maids.”
“I didn’t mean… Fuck.”
“Show me a better attitude tomorrow, and I’ll give you something more exciting to do.”
“Like what?”
He raised his brows.
I cleared my throat and tried again. Surely I could fucking do this. “I don’t know how to fix cars, so I’m not sure how I can contribute.”
“I’ll teach you.”
A sudden image of Beau leaning over me, arms around me, hands on mine flashed into my head, and I bit back a groan. Having him teach me would be like the intro to so many of the pornos I’d watched since the first time I’d walked into his shop.
I met his gaze and had to wonder if he was thinking that too.
Finally, he let me go, and I opened the door and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“At seven this time.”
“Yes, sir.” The flare of heat in his eyes was worth the humiliation of my words.