Page 11 of Narrow Margins

We leave at the same time and I watch to see who claims what car. The Ferrari belongs to Troy—and totally suits him—Raff gets in with him. Ryan gets in the large BMW by himself, leaving the Mercedes for Nico. But, I’m wrong; Nico unlocks a sweet, vintage Mustang. So, who’s in the Merc?

Corrie walks up behind me, making me jump when his arm brushes innocently against me. “It gets busy this time of day. Here’s the address if you want to program it in, in case we get separated.” Handing me a slip of paper, he saunters to the graphite Mercedes AMG GT.

“They do pay well here!” I call over but see his back stiffen and the sneer on his face tells me exactly what he thinks of me. I climb into my Shelby and start the engine and, pulling out of the space, line up behind Corrie. I see him observe me in his mirror but this time it’s not the narky look of a minute ago, this one is darker. It’s at that moment I decide to go back to the hotel. I don’t need to be thrown to the wolves like this; he doesn’t want me anywhere near him. I must respect that. Confusion fills me: I know he felt the jolt of electricity that sparked between us. His eyes gave it away. So, why am I still following him if I want to go back to the hotel? Fuck knows, but I can’t help myself.

The minute the thought enters my mind, I know it’s not going to happen. I haven’t been with anyone since Corrie, no one has had the same appeal to me. No one has come close to making my heart beat faster and my stomach tighten as excitement builds. No one has made my dick hard since him. What the fuck am I going to do, working so close to him? The thought disappears as I follow him up a long, winding driveway, surrounded by tall trees and dense foliage. It’s obvious privacy was important in the planning of this. The brick drive carries on until, after the last bend, I’m facing a huge—and I mean fucking huge—house.

The white paintwork shines brightly in the sunlight and the multitude of windows sparkle as the lowering sun hits them. Fuck, I’d hate to have to be the sucker that cleans them. I watch, waiting behind Corrie, as the what must be a quadruple garage opens and he drives inside. I get a glimpse of a few other vehicles in there but Corrie gets out and points to a space off to the left and I pull in there. As the shutter comes down behind me, it gets dark but then overhead lights flicker on. Christ, this place is something else.

Corrie is waiting. Impatiently, by his scowl. What have I done wrong now? “Some place you’ve got here.” I smile and try to joke but his only reaction is a huff.

“It’s Troy and Nico’s, I’m just lucky enough to live here. C’mon, I’ll show you around and your room.” Corrie opens the door and I walk in behind him, pausing again while he deactivates the alarm. “This way,” he looks back. “Kitchen, obviously, then we’ve got an office over there, feel free to use it, the Wi-Fi password is in there.”

I follow him down a wide, bright hallway as he points out different rooms until we reach a wide staircase. Seriously, four grown men could walk up side by side and not touch shoulders. When we reach the top, and another wide hall, Corrie glances at me again.

“I have my rooms down there,” he points down a corridor to the left of us, “yours are this way.”

I trail him as we walk straight ahead, Corrie continuing to indicate various rooms. Then, about when I feel like I’m going to be dumped in a broom closet, he says

“These are your rooms.” He opens the door and I step inside, looking around.

“Fuck me, Corrigan!” I glance back at him and find his eyes blazing. Was that lust? But it changes back to a blank facade again before I can be sure. “Sorry, I mean, this is a great room.” Surveying the spacious room, I spy glass doors opening out onto a balcony and walk to them. Opening one, I step out onto the still warm tiles. There’s a small table and two chairs on the right-hand side but it’s the view that captures my attention. “Wow! That is a beautiful view.”

Leaning on the railing around the portico, I contemplate the vista. I see out over the sprawling city all the way to the marina. The boats, tiny from up here, seem to sway as one with the motion of the water. Bringing my eyes back to the property, I look over the edge and see the back yard. A large, sprawling garden with a covered deck area to the left, a huge grill with seating for at least a dozen people, maybe more. A swimming pool glitters, throwing diamond-bright sparks over the surface. It looks so inviting, I could dive in now.

I feel Corrie move to stand next to me, copying my stance and leaning over the railing. “I stayed here when I first met Raff again. It’s a good place to relax and recharge your batteries. I spent many hours out here, looking at the world as it carried on around me.”

“You don’t want me here, do you?” I speak quietly, already knowing the answer.

“No, I don’t. You hurt me and I don’t need a reminder of that. I’m big enough to get over it. It seems we are going to be working together, I am being paid by them to do a job even if I’m related to one of them. Just don’t play games with me, Griff, I don’t want or deserve that.” Corrie turns to walk away.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” I say to his back.

“Then you shouldn’t have tried so hard to succeed. I’m going to shower then order food; come down when you’re ready, if you want to eat.” Corrie gives me weak smile and leaves.

I remain on the balcony for god knows how long, my mind running Corrie’s words, his reactions, every part of today over and over on a slow replay. I need to show how much I regret what happened. Okay, it doesn’t look like we are going to be jumping into bed together any time soon, but I can get to know him, I can be his friend. But only if he lets me and, by the look of things, that is a massive if.

Stepping back inside but leaving the door open, I take more of a look around. Corrie said rooms so, what else is here? The first door I open is a sizeable walk-in closet, the door next to that opens into a generous bathroom, beautifully tiled in creams and beige tones. The large, open fronted shower with multiple jets makes my next decision easy. I grab my case and lift it on to the huge bed. Undoing the zipper, I throw the lid back and retrieve my washbag.

I keep my thoughts on easy subjects. How to get my gear shifted over here, what about my bikes? I’ll need to get them transported over here. I need to find a place to live before worrying about that; everything is locked up and secure. Manny will check up on it all, if I ask. But it’s no use, my mind travels back to Corrie and the thought that, right now, he’s in the shower, naked and covered in soap. Dammit, my dick gets hard. The desire to shout out my bewilderment is overwhelming but I hold it in and flick the shower to cold. The freezing jets have the double effect of stopping any coherent thought and instantly softening my dick as my balls shrink inside my body. I have a feeling I’m going to be having plenty more of these.

When I get back to the kitchen, Corrie is nowhere to be seen but there’s a pile of takeout menus on the table in the middle of the room. Right about every type of food is available here so I start to browse, picking up the Italian one first; it’s always my favorite.

“See anything you like?” Corrie’s voice startles me and, when I catch sight of him, I’m left dumbstruck. I’ve seen Corrie in tight jeans and a T-shirt, and that is fucking awesome; I’ve seen him in chinos and a button-down shirt today, and he looked good enough to eat. But the fucker stands before me in a pair of sweat shorts and no top, making my dick hard in seconds.

My eyes run over his tight, muscled body, so much broader than mine. I’m fit and strong but have kept my weight down for years for speed and maneuverability on my bike. My mouth dries and swallowing is like having sand forced down my throat, but I know he captures my feelings and grabs a T-shirt from the back of the chair.

“Quit looking at me like that, Griff.” He mutters.

“Then put some fucking clothes on.” I growl but feel cheated when he pulls the T-shirt over his head.

“I meant food, what would you like to eat?” He smooths the shirt over his taut stomach. Covering his amazing physique in a tight top doesn’t help my dick go down.

“Italian,” I manage to garble. “I like Italian.”

“Sounds good, make the call; I’ll have the chicken alfredo and some garlic bread.” Corrie walks past me, refusing to meet my eyes.

After calling the order through, I hover in the kitchen, nervous of him. I don’t know what I should’ve expected, I treated him so badly, disregarding him and his feelings. Wandering over to the open doors, I look out into the garden. It’s huge, designed for socializing, with the massive decked area and grill. Stepping outside, I breathe in the warm evening air and try to control my apprehension, my heart rate is up and it takes a few minutes to calm down again. Turning back inside, I muster the courage to face him again. I find him in the living room, scrolling through the sports channels. He hovers over the bike racing but keeps going, finding a baseball game and choosing that.

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