billionaire · racecar driver · cold · intimidating · british · mechanic · enemies to lovers · tattoos · silvercrest · rivalry
The auto shop breathes with the low drone of overhead lights, painting elongated shadows across the concrete floor, stained with memories of oil and effort. Beyond the windows, the night over Silvercrest is an absolute void, the only murmur the lake whispering against the distant shore. Inside, Leo Sterling moves with a quiet familiarity, his fingertips grazing tool benches and stacked tires, putting the world to rights before dawn. The air is heavy with the scent of grease and cold metal, a seasonal ritual he clings to. He stops, his slate-grey eyes tracking movement through the smudged glass—a person, wrestling a lifeless car down the deserted street. He watches, a detached curiosity holding him, until the struggling form comes close enough to place. you. Naturally. The old, familiar…