Damn, she’d look good on the back of my bike, that blond hair flowing out of a helmet. Yup, I was a helmet man. No point in splattering my brains all over the place. Now that I had a life I enjoyed, I wanted to keep it that way.

I hated Manhattan. I wanted to go back to Montana, where the sky was big and blue and everything was open. New York was so closed in. And it smelled. Even in this posh Manhattan office, the stench of the streets still wafted in the air.

I looked around. My brother Roy was looking down at his lap, while Reid was ogling Lacey. Not that I blamed him. He’d probably fucked her already.

A spear of jealousy hit my gut. Why? I didn’t know. So what if he’d fucked her? Reid fucked anything in a skirt.

My little sister, Riley, sat next to my mother.

Riley… The sight of her brought it all back. We weren’t close, and I was sorry about that. I’d been protecting her that day, but she didn’t know that, and I could never tell her.

Then of course…Mommie Dearest.

Constance Wolfe.

Bitch extraordinaire, who’d had no issue with turning a blind eye to her husband’s extracurricular activities.

My gaze floated back to Lacey Ward. I closed my eyes again and sighed. This was going to be a long day.

“Section Seven, real property…”

Can I please doze off now? The villa in Tuscany, the ski chateau in Aspen, the loft in Paris. Who needed all that shit? I had my small cabin in Montana, a Harley, and a job doing construction. It kept me fit and paid well, enough to pay my mortgage, keep food in my belly, and gas in my bike. I got to spend a lot of time outdoors. Who needed anything else?

Man, that voice…

Sink that big cock into me, Rock. Yeah, just like that…

Then…

Silence.

My eyes shot open.

Five gazes, belonging to my mother, my siblings, and my father’s current slut, were darting arrows straight toward me.

4

Lacey

Had Rock Wolfe heard what I said?

I’d expected a major outburst.

The outburst came, but not from Rock.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Reid said, standing. “You misread that.”

I cleared my throat. “I assure you I didn’t.”

“Dad couldn’t have agreed to that,” he said.

“It’s outrageous,” Connie Wolfe said, her perfect lips a straight line. “Nothing to me? Or my other children?” she added, most likely as an afterthought.

“You’re the ex-wife, Connie,” Fonda said, smirking, “in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m the mother of Derek’s children,” Connie snarled back at her, “and I don’t recall hearing your name being read either.”