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It was one of my first foster families, and maybe the social worker put me with them because I was so malnourished when they first took me from my family.

Supposedly, that’s why I’m so small, because I was barely fed enough to keep a child alive until I was nearly six. No one came to check on me until a few months after I didn’t get registered for school, and then they put me in a place that fed me well. This family grew their own food plus had livestock like chickens and goats. They had eight foster kids, which I imagine was quite an income since they could feed us cheap. Also, we provided a lot of free labor, helping to plant, weed, and harvest.

Usually, I prefer not to take trips down memory lane when it comes to my childhood, but the chicken and dumplings gave me a good memory, and I took that back with me to the shop.

But the memories made me think of my original family, and I realized there was another reason I shouldn’t be publicly known as Lord Byron’s boyfriend — because I didn’t want my original family to be reminded of me. I wanted nothing to do with them.

I kept track of them over social media when I was a teen, and I looked them up again after I was released from prison. My dad is in prison for armed robbery and shooting a cop. He didn’t kill him, thank goodness, but he’s still going to be inside for a long while. My aunt used to post pics of my mom on her social media, and the meth use hasn’t been kind to my mom. My aunt seems to be doing okay, working as a dental hygienist and married to a truck driver, but she had to know there was this child who wasn’t being fed or loved, and she didn’t step in, so I don’t want any part of her, either.

I never met any of my grandparents, and I don’t even know my mom’s parents’ names, much less whether they’re dead or alive. I know my dad’s parents moved to Alaska once my dad was out of high school, and I found them on social media when I got out of prison. Or, I’m pretty sure it’s them. They post cooking videos, showing them cooking the animals they’ve killed, and they have a decent following. I guess he kills them and she cooks them. I’ve never met them, but the names and ages are right, and my dad looks like a younger version of the man.

But I don’t want any part of them, either, so it’s best my name isn’t out there, attached to someone famous.

I managed a quick shower before Sir picked me up. I gathered the plan was for him to take me home, and then he’d bring me back to get my car before we went back to his place. That way I could drive myself to work in the morning.

The limo had been a little horrifying. I mean, who gets dropped off at their upholstery job in a freaking limousine, right?

I thought it couldn’t get worse, but then he picked me up in a motherfucking McLaren W1. I mean, it was a freaking work of art, but it’s about as flashy as you can get, isn’t it?

I was secretly hoping the solid black sports car wasn’t him when it pulled in, but I knew it would be. And then the gull wing doors went up, and he looked more like Lord Byron than my Sir when he stepped out.

Why did my dick go instantly hard? I’d have to think about that later, because I stepped outside with a smile despite my misgivings about the car — I wasn’t sure I wanted to date someone who’d spend over two million dollars on a car. I made all kinds of mistakes with my first Master, in part because he seduced me with all the flash and sexiness.

“No guards, Sir?”

“Turns out, the guy you rent from works for Drake Security, and he’ll be home so he can help keep an eye on us. I mean, my team is around somewhere so they can keep an eye on me while I drive, but it’s from a distance today, not up close and personal. Are you ready to go?”

“I am, Sir.”

I put my seatbelt on right away, and couldn’t help looking around the tiny passenger compartment. There was a huge screen mounted between us, and all the buttons and dials made it look more like a racecar than anything I’d ever seen.

I was probably supposed to go all googly-eyed over the car, and part of me wanted to, but I needed to understand why Will had this car. I couldn’t figure out how to ask, so I said, “I didn’t see this in your garage, Sir.”

“It was delivered a few hours ago, and I have it for thirty days.” He shrugged. “I never get to drive when I’m on tour, and this break is kind of a big deal for me. I have a drive planned for next week, the Cherohala Skyway to the Tail of the Dragon, into Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg until I’m tired of them, through the park into Cherokee…” he sighed. “There’s more. I’ll have security following me, and likely one in the passenger seat with me if you can’t get away. I’ll change it up, so I leave when you get off work Friday, if you want to go with me. I’ll have you back in time for work Monday morning, Tuesday if we can swing a day off for you.”

“I can talk to Bash, but you won’t be able to go to all the places you planned if you have to cut it short, Sir.”

“I’d rather have a short trip with you than a long one without you. We can do the North Georgia mountains another weekend. It doesn’t have to be all in one trip.”

I stared out the side window, trying to figure out how to tell him I wasn’t sure I should be seen with him in public, and he said, “No pressure. Let’s work on the contract, and then we’ll talk about the possibilities. It’s a fun car and I won’t have it to play with long, but I just met you and I hope you’re on board with seeing where things go with us. I think exploringusis more important, I just thought it might be fun for us to get out and play a little. I can put you on the insurance, so you can drive it too, if you want.”

No way in hell was I driving a two-million-dollar car. “I would love to spend more time with you, Sir. Let’s figure out the temporary contract and then talk about it, please?”

“Yes, we can absolutely do that. How was your day?”

“Slow this morning, but the afternoon flew by. I finished the long project and the short one. I have three short projects before I work on another long one — complete reno of an eighty-two Nissan 280ZX.”

“Do you have help manhandling the seats in and out?”

“Sometimes. I mean, I have to find someone to help for, say, the old bench seats that came in older trucks. I can usually handle sportscar seats on my own, but if someone sees me struggling, they almost always either come help or tell someone else to.”

“Bubbles is a big guy.”

My face flamed hot and I was glad we were in the car and not facing each other. “He is, Sir. I have permission to answer your questions now. I’m sorry I couldn’t last night.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d already figured there was a good possibility you couldn’t talk about it because it happened with someone both of us know, and that substantially reduced the field. It’s good Bubbles came to me before I started looking into who you served time with.”

Right, because that would’ve been bad. “Bubbles is happy with Lexi, Sir. I mean, she knows about me, but not a whole lot of other people do. I think just Duke, Brain, and Bash.”