Layer by Layer (Riggings Brothers 1)

“No, but they woke my ass up at two this morning to come and get them.”

I nod. Grant is usually the lucky brother who gets the calls in the middle of the night, but he’s out of town. It makes sense they would call Owen and not me. As the oldest brother and the CEO of Riggins Enterprises, they know the ride home would have been a lecture. Owen, on the other hand, I’m sure picked them up and dropped them off without a word.

Their actions directly affect the view of the company. It’s not fair, but it is the way things are. Our company has money, more than my kids' kids would ever be able to spend, and with that come the vultures—the media or some random person at the club looking to get a quick payday from a grainy image snapped from their cell phones. The CEO in me understands the implications. The brother in me understands wanting to go out and let loose for a night.

It’s been years since I’ve done that. In fact, not once have I had more than a drink or two since I took over the reins at Riggins Enterprises. The entire company rests upon my shoulders. I take that seriously.

I know what you’re thinking, that I’m the serious one, not Owen. That’s true in a sense, but Owen, he keeps to himself. He’s private about his dating life. Hell, I’m not even sure he has one. Whereas I don’t hide it, or the fact that it’s one and done. Always. Those trysts may be few and far between, but they all know I have them. I tried the yellow brick road that led me to forever, and it was a dead end. Lesson learned. It’s no longer about the marathon when it comes to the women in my life, but the sprint. It’s always short-lived, and women know before it even starts that nothing will come of it.

I just don’t have it in me.

Not anymore.

“You haven’t heard the best part. Ask them who they were with,” Owen says. His expression’s unreadable behind his thick beard, but the glint in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying this little game of verbal torture on our younger brothers.

“Who were you with?”

“A girl we met. Her name is Hadley.” Conrad is quick to answer.

Why does that name sound familiar? I glance over at Owen, and the slightest shake of his head tells me there’s more. “Who else?”

“Her best friend,” Marshall adds.

Another look at Owen and I know they’re still not telling me everything. “Does this best friend have a name?” They share a look before Conrad opens his mouth and knocks me on my ass.

“Sawyer.”

Sawyer? “Wait. My Sawyer?” I ask them. My voice is raised, and instead of flinching, my two younger brothers grin like I just told them we won the fucking lottery. I’m kicking myself in the ass for my blunder. Thankfully, I’ve kept that I already knew her to myself.

“Is she yours, Royce? Is there something you’re not telling us?” Marshall asks.

“Sawyer from the office. My assistant?” I clarify. She’s not mine, something my dick has taken offense to in the last week.

“Yep,” Conrad says, popping the p and wearing a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“You were out drinking with my new assistant?”

“Not technically. We ran into her and her friend. We had a shot to celebrate her first week at the office, and then hit the dance floor,” Marshall explains. “And she’s not just yours.” He gives me a pointed look that we both know is fucked up. She is mine.

“Rinse and repeat,” Conrad adds.

“How did she get home?” I look over at Owen, and he holds his hands in the air. “I didn’t take her. She was climbing into the back seat of an SUV when I saw her.”

“You let them drive?” I seethe.

“No. Chill, Royce. We didn’t let them drive. Hadley’s fiancé picked them up.” Conrad watches me closely. I don’t like it, and I don’t like the way my stomach feels as though it’s tied up in knots. And while I’m at it, I’m going to add that I don’t like that they got time with her and I didn’t. She’s off-limits to all of us, but this past week didn’t keep me from fantasizing about her.

“Sawyer is off-limits.” I make sure to look at each one of my brothers in the eye. I make a mental note to tell Grant the same.

“Hmm,” Marshall says, tapping his chin. “Dad, is there a rule in the handbook about dating employees?”

“Nope.” Dad grins.

Traitor.

“It’s in the works.” I’m already mentally preparing the email to Gail for first thing tomorrow morning.

“Well, you see, big brother, it’s not written in stone, not yet, and we did nothing wrong. What harm is there in buying a coworker a shot to celebrate her new job?” Conrad asks.