The living room of the Blackwood estate was a study in minimalism—sharp lines, neutral tones, and expensive art that Damon appreciated more for its investment value than its aesthetic. It was 8:00 PM on a Thursday, the night before Leo's interview at Blackwood Logistics.
Damon sat on the plush beige sofa, a tumbler of scotch in his hand, reviewing a quarterly report on his tablet. The house was quiet. Helen was at her book club, leaving the two men alone.
"Dad?"
Damon lowered the tablet. Leo stood at the bottom of the grand staircase.
Damon's breath hitched in his throat.
Leo was wearing a suit. It was a charcoal grey number, clearly one of the cheaper off-the-rack options from a department store, but on Leo, it looked like couture. The jacket was cut slim, accentuating his narrow waist, and the trousers... the trousers were a problem. They hugged his thighs and glutes with unforgiving precision, tapering down to his ankles in a modern, youthful cut.
"I wanted to try it on before tomorrow," Leo said, walking into the living room. He tugged nervously at his cuffs. "I know I'm just meeting with HR, but I want to make a good impression. Does it look okay?"
He stopped in front of the coffee table, doing a slow, hesitant spin.
Damon took a long sip of scotch, the burn grounding him. 'It looks dangerous,' he thought. 'It looks like jailbait.'
"It fits well," Damon said, keeping his voice neutral. "Maybe a little tight in the... legs. For a corporate environment."
Leo looked down at his own thighs, running his hands over the fabric. The gesture drew Damon's eyes straight to the boy's hips.
"Really? The sales guy said this was the 'European Slim' fit. He said it was trendy." Leo looked up, his big green eyes filled with worry. "Do I look unprofessional? Should I change?"
"No," Damon said quickly. Too quickly. He cleared his throat. "No, it's fine. Fashion changes. You look sharp, Leo. Professional."
"Okay. Good." Leo let out a relieved breath, flashing a smile. "I don't have a tie picked out yet. I was thinking the blue one?"
He walked around the coffee table, closing the distance between them. He sat down on the arm of the sofa—perching there like a bird. He was close. Too close. The scent of vanilla was back, mixing with the new, starchy smell of the suit.
"Blue is a safe bet," Damon agreed, gripping his glass. "It conveys trust."
"Trust," Leo repeated softly. He leaned back slightly, bracing his hands on the sofa cushion behind Damon's head. The movement caused his jacket to fall open, revealing the crisp white dress shirt underneath. It was unbuttoned at the top, exposing the hollow of his throat.
"I'm really nervous, Damon," Leo confessed, dropping the 'Dad' again. "What if I mess up? What if the HR lady thinks I'm just a kid?"
"You are a kid, Leo," Damon said gently. "That's not a bad thing. You're eager. You're smart. Just be yourself. Don't try to be... whatever you think a CEO looks like. Just be Leo."
Leo looked down at Damon, his gaze dropping to Damon's mouth. "But I want to be like you."
The room suddenly felt very small.
"You've built this empire," Leo continued, his voice dropping to a hush. "Everyone respects you. Everyone listens to you. I want that. I want to walk into a room and have people look at me the way they look at you."
Damon stared up at him, mesmerized. It wasn't just flattery; it was worship. And god help him, it fed the darkest, most arrogant parts of his ego.
"You'll get there," Damon said hoarsely. "It takes time."
"Maybe you can teach me," Leo whispered. He shifted on the arm of the sofa, his thigh brushing against Damon's shoulder. "Teach me how to be a man like you."
Damon set his drink down on the coaster with a sharp clack. He stood up abruptly, needing to put space between himself and the adoration radiating from his stepson.
"I'm already helping you by getting you the interview, Leo," Damon said, walking over to the fireplace. He kept his back to the room. "The rest is up to you."
There was a silence. Damon waited for the hurt, for the apology.
Instead, he heard the rustle of fabric.
"You're right," Leo said. His voice was bright again, the heavy intimacy vanishing as if it had never been there. "I need to earn it. I'm going to go pick out that tie. Thanks for the advice, Dad!"
Damon turned around just in time to see Leo bounding up the stairs, the tight grey trousers showcasing exactly what the 'European Slim' fit was designed to highlight.
Damon let out a long, ragged exhale. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the empty spot on the sofa arm where Leo had been perched.
'Teach me how to be a man like you.'
The words echoed in his mind.
Upstairs, in the safety of his bedroom, Leo stripped off the jacket and tossed it onto his bed. He walked to his full-length mirror, inspecting his reflection. He ran a hand down his chest, over the flat plane of his stomach, and down to the front of his trousers.
"He liked it," Leo whispered to his reflection, a smirk playing on his lips. "He couldn't take his eyes off me."
He unzipped the pants, stepping out of them.
"Tomorrow, I get the job," Leo decided. "And once I'm in his office... I'm going to get everything else."