Page 5 of Forbidden Bond

The high from skydiving follows me throughout the weekend. By the time I show up to work early Monday morning, I’m all smiles, and my employees notice. Ellis and Cara are the only two other mechanics I’ve hired since I started this business a few months ago.

Toph’s Auto Repair Shop.

We only work on sports cars, classic cars, or vintage cars for the elite of New York City. When I proposed the idea to my brother Christian, he had some doubts, but every day, I wake up and show up at work. It feels good to shove it in his face that I’m still sticking to this, despite his earlier misgivings. I’ll admit I haven’t been the most commendable, consistent person in the world, but working with cars is something I actually love doing, and him helping me build my passion into a career is something I’ll always be grateful to my big brothers for. Both of them.

“Hey boss,” Cara greets with a little salute.

“What’s up, Car?”

“I’m good. You’re pretty smiley,” she comments, her green eyes studying me.

I shrug. “I had a good weekend. How are things here?”

She moves to stand in front of me, swinging a towel over her shoulder. She’s dressed in blue overalls with some engine oil on the side of her face. At first glance, you’d think Cara’s a regular tomboy—a girl who likes working with cars and hanging out with guys. But I’ve also seen her dressed to kill, heading out to clubs on a Friday night. She’s great with cars and fucking hot, too. When we first met, most people thought we’d be the ideal match since we’re so alike, but Cara’s just a friend. We’ve never left the professional boundaries of what our relationship should entail.

“Pretty great. Someone brought a Cayman in last night,” she informs me.

“Sweet,” I say, grinning. “What year?”

“2019. Wanna check it out?”

She leads me toward the garage area where all the cars we’re currently working on are parked. Ellis is in there working on a Bugatti, but he walks over when he sights us. The three of us pause to marvel at the silver car with red wheels. Cara gives us a breakdown of what the owner wants, then she levels me with a hard stare.

“We need to hire someone else, Toph.”

I sigh. She’s been pushing for this for the past month.

“I know you’re not comfortable with it, but with the three of us working on the cars, we need someone taking care of the other stuff. Like the financials, client roster, reviews, and all that. We’ve got a good thing going here and it could be so much bigger. I know it.”

Ellis is quiet beside me but I know he agrees with her. He doesn’t really talk much. He’s got the broody 6’4” man with a big black beard persona down pat. But I trust him. I trust both of them. Ellis helped me out of a bind I found myself in a few years ago, and Cara and I went to school together. She belongs more in the socialite circles in New York than with me, but we get each other. I’m just worried bringing someone new in will affect our dynamic.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, rolling up my sleeves. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

The three of us disperse, both of them moving to work on their cars while I turn to the beauty in front of me. Cars have always held a special place in my heart, ever since I crashed my dad’s Ferrari into a swimming pool when I was sixteen. I almost died that day, but it was totally worth it. Cars speak a language that I’m fluent in. I’ve always felt more comfortable in the front seat of a sports car than having a conversation with other people.

Before I can slide into the front seat of the Cayman, however, my phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my back pocket and let out a soft breath when I check the caller ID.

“Hey, fratello,” I greet.

“Topher,” Carlo says, his voice low.

My eldest brother seldomly raises his voice. He’s a lot more like Christian than me, and sometimes I think even more ruthless, but Carlo never really lets anyone see beneath the surface. He’s quiet, and I can’t help but wonder if he has any life outside our family. Carlo doesn’t seem to care about much else. He shows up. Every damn time. He also judges a lot less than Christian does, so I have that to be grateful for.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” my brother states.

I chuckle softly. “If you miss me, Lo, just say you miss me.”

“Just checking in on you, fratellino,” he says warmly.

“I’m good,” I tell him, leaning against the wall. “At work right now. Someone brought in this sweet Porsche. It’s so beautiful, man. The wheels are amazing.”

Carlo chuckles. “You never miss an opportunity to gush about cars, do you, Toph?”

“You’re the only one always ready to listen,” I toss back. “So, what’s really going on? Why did you call? Usually, you just text.”

“I told you, just checking up on you.”

“Bullshit. Chris asked you to, didn’t he?”

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