Second Chance Rival

She ignored my retort and looked at her grandfather. “If I agree to this… How soon—”

“A month.”

“A month? Why so—”

“We’re not getting any younger, Belle. The sooner, the better.”

For a moment, I thought she was going to tell us all to fuck off.

I was more shocked than either of them when she actually replied, “I want my lawyer to look at the contract before I sign it.”

Our eyes locked again.

Except this time, she argued, “There’s no challenge, Tristian. This is simply another business deal I can’t pass up.” With that, she abruptly stood. “I assume I can take this contract with me.”

I nodded.

“You don’t need it for your lawyers?”

In four words, I rendered her speechless when I revealed…

“I already signed it.”

Chapter 4

—Belle—

Then: Sixteen-years-old

My laptop dinged with a new message in the teen motorcycle chat forum as I was getting ready for my first day at a co-ed private school.

Full Throttle: How nervous are you?

I smiled as I replied to the guy I’d been talking to for the last year on this forum I’d entered on a whim one night when I was bored. Being the only granddaughter of the great Chance Montgomery didn’t allow for much freedom in my life. It was one of the reasons I was only allowed to attend an all-girls school until now.

My family was royalty around these parts, and I had to play the role of the innocent, sheltered little girl who wasn’t permitted to do much. I was expected to always act like a lady no matter what.

My families expectations were that I behave and abide by their rules and orders that had been passed down for generations. Especially my grandfather’s demands. He was still the patriarch of our family, and whatever he said was law. As much as I craved to change that, I couldn’t.

My debutante ball was a year away, where I’d be introduced into society. It was my rite of passage, and the closer we got to the date, the more anxious I became. On top of the many plans my family had for my future, it didn’t help that I was the only granddaughter of the Montgomery dynasty. I was the baby girl they'd always wanted, and a big part of me had yet to figure out if my last name was a blessing or a curse.

Since my brothers and cousins were already out of high school, I’d be the only Montgomery at the academy. My brothers were all older—Tom was nineteen, Jasper was twenty-one, Hunter was twenty-four and Brantley was twenty-six. Given that they were boys, they were always allowed to attend a co-ed private school. The rules were different for the boys in our family. Not to mention, all the male cousins who were also treated differently, and by that I meant they could do no wrong.

If I heard the excuse, “He’s a boy, you’re a girl,” one more time, I was going to scream. I was protected and sheltered while they were simply allowed to do whatever they wanted.

It wasn’t fair.

Which was why my username was Rebel Rider on this forum. I could be whoever I wanted online, and all I longed for was to be my true self. Not just Belle Montgomery, sole granddaughter of the Montgomery dynasty.

However, I couldn’t risk people knowing my identity and it getting back to my parents, let alone my grandfather. If they knew I was in a public forum, they’d probably revoke my internet privileges. I couldn’t blame them. Talking to complete strangers on the world wide web wasn’t exactly safe, but I wanted to chat with people who understood my passion for street bikes.

From the first time I saw a bright yellow Ducati speed past our chauffeured SUV with an orange Kawasaki Ninja racing behind it, I was a goner. It was the most vivid memory from my childhood. For several seconds, bike after bike raced by our vehicle at lightning speed.

The sounds of the engines roaring through the air made my heart pound against my chest. The adrenaline was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I wanted that feeling to go on and never end. Even at the age of five, I knew I’d stop at nothing to learn everything I could about motorcycles.

After the street bikes were out of sight, my father called the sheriff who, of course, was my family’s personal friend. With a stern tone I’d only ever heard him use in his office, he bit, “The bikers are up to their takeovers again.”

You see, those street bike races were illegal in our town, and despite the persuasive efforts of the community, it didn’t stop the bikers from their illegal race wars. Through the years, they became like thieves in the night, doing their takeovers when the towns were sleeping, but again, it didn’t stop the incessant chatter and gossip about them.