“Rock. Mr. Wolfe was that bastard who died.”

He wasn’t making this easy. “All right. Rock. Your father just mandated that you move to Manhattan and take your place at the head of his company—rather, your company—as chief executive officer.”

“What? No way. What the hell is he trying to pull? He hates me. And I don’t know anything about his fucking business. I also don’t give a shit.”

I sighed. “Believe me, I tried to talk him out of this scheme, but he was adamant.”

“You wrote this thing?”

“That’s what he paid me to do.”

“Jesus fuck.” He sat down in one of the leather chairs across from my desk. “I won’t do it, I tell you. I won’t. I wouldn’t know what I was doing anyway.”

I walked around my desk and took a seat, facing him. “You really weren’t listening, were you?”

He smiled. God, he was gorgeous. I hated the effect he was having on my body.

“I already told you what I was doing, Lacey Lingerie.”

I seethed, despite the tickle between my legs.

“I still bet your mother was wearing lace that night. Where else would you get a name like Lacey?”

“You’re one to talk, with a name like Rock.”

“My mom was a fan of the old Rock Hudson and Doris Day movies. Riley’s middle name is Doris.”

“You do know that Rock Hudson was gay, right?”

“Yeah, I do. So what? That doesn’t mean everyone named Rock is gay.”

“And neither is every Lacey named after undergarments.”

He smiled again, but this time he didn’t push it.

I cleared my throat. “Your father has left his business interests in Wolfe Enterprises, which, as you know, is a three billion dollar corporation—”

“I haven’t seen my father in twenty-some years. I don’t know shit.”

“All right.” I sighed. “Now you know. You are heir to a three billion dollar corporation.”

“You’re telling me I’m as rich as Bill Gates now?”

“Hardly, but you are rich. Once you get into billions, does it really matter?” Indeed, any amount in the billions was incomprehensible to most, myself included.

He sat, stunned, his green eyes wide. “What the hell am I going to do with all of that?”

“It’s not solely yours. He left it in equal parts to you, your brothers, and your sister.”

“Good. They deserve it.”

“But there was a stipulation.” I stood. “Didn’t you wonder why everyone was staring at you in the conference room?”

“It was obviously my devastating good looks,” he said, smiling.

I couldn’t fault his observation, even though he was clearly just flirting with me. If I were the type to go for a leather-clad bad boy, I’d be all over Rock Wolfe.

Fortunately, I wasn’t that type.

At least that was what I kept telling myself.

“Mr. Wolfe—”