Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,2

almost shocked to see his warm smile. The man was charmingly handsome when he wasn’t being a dick. “That was awesome. How did you know?” Donovan held up his palms much the same way as Silver had done earlier. “No offense. I’m genuinely interested in your story, because you obviously know what you’re doing. That’s a rare thing when it comes to vehicles like these.” His eyes hooded and the corner of his mouth quirked into a cocky smile. “I could use a man of your caliber on my payroll.”

Just when I thought there was a decent human being lurking beneath that delectable skin.

“I’m already on someone’s payroll, but thanks.”

Donovan’s eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. Do tell.” His smile transformed into a leer.

Silver let out a heavy sigh. “Look, man. I’m glad I could help, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!”

Silver froze in mid-stride, his eyebrows drawing together. “What?”

Donovan took another step closer, visibly swallowing as he ran his gaze up and down Silver’s frame before locking on his eyes. “I’d like to say thank you by buying you a drink. I know of a nice, cozy bar not too far from here in Silver Lake. Seems like a fitting place to go to, don’t you think?”

Silver crossed his arms. “Does coming on to straight guys work out for you very often?”

Donovan’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Oh dear. I find myself doing a lot of apologizing this evening.” He gave a casual, one-shouldered shrug, his cocky smile still in place. “Never know until you try.”

“Or get the shit beaten out of you. Has that happened more than once?”

Donovan bit his lower lip and Silver willed himself not to get distracted. The man was tempting, but still an asshole. He just hated the thought of Donovan taking such risks when it seemed so unnecessary. There were plenty of gay bars to choose from in the vast city, filled to the brim with willing prospects.

Donovan rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly qualify my dicey encounters as ones where I’ve had the shit beaten out of me, as much as being physically reminded that my advances were unwelcome.” He inched closer. “However, sometimes my conquests can be wooed by what I have to offer.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the Lamborghini. “There’s plenty more where that came from. My collection is impressive, and I’d let you drive whichever one you liked.”

Silver pressed his lips together. The guy was incorrigible. Yet, for whatever reason, the idea of Donovan getting hurt—or worse—nagged at him. “Vet your potential conquests better. Getting beaten might be the least of your concerns one day.” Silver determined that he’d said all he could say, and it was time for them both to move on with their lives. Some snooty rich guy was unlikely to take any advice Silver had to offer anyway. “As I said, glad it all worked out. Goodnight.”

This time, when Silver turned and headed to his own car, the sound of Donovan’s footsteps moving away was all he heard. As Silver slid onto the cream leather seats of his Mustang, he paused, then yelled out a parting shot to the smug, entitled bastard. “And I never said I was straight!”

At Donovan’s startled expression, Silver grinned then revved up his engine, glad he’d tuned her up nicely that week. He roared out of the parking lot, never looking back.

Eat this, fucker.

Chapter Two

Donovan replied to the last of his morning emails, then leaned back in his thickly padded, black leather office chair. He stretched his arms above his head and glanced at the time on his computer. A Howard Miller clock hung on the wall to his left, the rich mahogany paneling the perfect background accent to the pricey item, but he rarely consulted it. He’d placed it there, set ahead by ten minutes, so that whenever his brother or father dropped into his office unannounced, it might encourage them to leave quicker. They enjoyed staring at fancy, overpriced objects d’ art much more than he did. The only object Donovan enjoyed staring at was a sexy performance car, and the classic models were his drug of choice.

A flash of the man who’d helped him the night before—Silver—raced through his mind. He wouldn’t mind staring at him either.

Sans clothing.

Donovan frowned, steepling his fingers as he ran the encounter between them over in his head. He’d had a fitful sleep, part of his issue being the recent loss of a long term client to another design firm, and the other