Page 3 of MOM

It's time to armor up.

I'm about to meet a high-profile client in what could turn out to be my biggest job yet.

It's been six days since twenty-eight-year-old natural bodybuilder and social media influencer Rocky Summers had the dickslip to end all dickslips.

The six-second video of his G-string bursting off his sculpted body has been shared by everyone on every type of media, from the wackiest loons on X to the world's biggest media organizations. Whether people have seen the raw footage online or the heavily pixelated version on TV and in newspapers, the bottom line is:everyonehas seen it.

I'm ready for this moment.

And I'mangry.

When you grow up in a family where your dickhead dad is involved in multiple scandals, you have to develop thick skin. Add in the fact I'm 5'5" and gay, it was either that or drown.

I refuse to drown.

The jet-engine ambition that saw me attending college at thirteen and graduating at eighteen with a double major in philosophy and communications is the same fuel that makes me work my ass off for the clients I represent. I may have been too young to save my mother, but I won't let a scandal end someone's life.

Not on my watch.

I stew in my anger, pressure building like steam in a sealed pipe in my veins. The real part of me is sensitive and shy. The work part of me is a fucking monster you do not want to cross. I'm intimidating, I'm ruthless, and that's why I'm the best at what I do.

It's why I left one of the most prestigious PR firms in the country and branched out on my own. I was sick of being underappreciated and having my talents go to waste. Who cares that I'm twenty-three. I'm brilliant at what I do, so why should my age be a barrier? Seniority and rank are relics of a past corporate culture. People should be judged on their results, not by a number.

This campaign is make or break for me. Rocky's career is in freefall, and the whole world is watching. If I can turn this around, I might finally be able to break free from the shackles of my family name and prove to everyone I can stand on my own two feet.

Rocky has been banned from competing this season, pending the outcomes of an FCC investigation as well as an internal review by the Men of Muscle organization. The headline rumor is that he staged the whole thing to increase his online following.

I storm into the meeting room expecting only to see Rocky Summers. Seven heads swivel my way. Silas, Tanner, Patrick, Beckett, Kynan, and Kynan's partner, Sawyer, who's holding Ky's son in his lap.

The Bad Boy Academy are all here.

Under different circumstances, like if I'd randomly bumped into them in public, I'd be working up the courage to approach them and gush about how big a fan I am.

But I'm in beast mode now, so that won't be happening.

"All of you, out!" I bark.

"Excuse me?" Patrick says.

"If your name isn't Rocky Summers, you have no reason to be here."

"You're wrong," Beckett snaps. "We're his family. We have every right to be here."

I take a beat, clenching my jaw. Just once, I'd love for someone in my life to stand up for me like that.

I catch the sentimentality…and crush it under the heel of my Saint Laurent Wyatt boots.

"And I'm the guy who's going to get him out of this mess," I say, stopping short of delivering an ultimatum—either they go or I do. I'll save that for later if needed.

Beckett doesn't back down.

I smirk and meet his gaze. I've been looked down on and sneered at my whole damn life. If this pretty boy thinks he can psych me out, he's got another thing coming.

"Guys, listen to him. Please."

Rocky's gentle plea may be only that—a plea—but for a second, it feels like a huge gust of wind. Imperceptibly, I ground myself into the floor as Beckett glances over at his friend.

"You sure?" he asks.