Page 7 of Her Three Tech Bros

“Yes, sir.”

I stare at the photographs, all of them in black and white, and all of them depicting a different person. Each person appears to be completely unaware that they’re being photographed as they walk down the street, smile at a loved one, or gaze at a stunning view. It’s beautiful and a pleasant reminder to enjoy the world around you.

“Anything else that catches your eye, Mr. Walker?”

“I think that’ll be all for today. Wonderful job once again, Marco. Charge the bill to the card you have on file for me.”

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You as well,” I say as I walk back the way we came.

I head outside to my car, feeling satisfied. New art purchases always lift my spirits. Now if only I could find a way out of this thing Ethan wants us to go to tonight. Then the night would truly be perfect.

“Unlikely,” I mutter as I step on the gas.

An hour later, I pull up in front of Ethan’s building, park my car, and step out. I hand my keys to the valet and continue walking to the lobby door.

“Logan!”

I turn just as I’m about to open the door. Ryan is walking towards me, a cocky smirk already plastered on his face.

“Did you hear the news?” he asks as we walk into the building.

“Yes, and I should probably be saying I told you so.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can always count on you not to gloat.”

“I’m just waiting for you two to let go of your pride and accept the fact that I’m always right.”

“That’ll never happen.”

I scoff. “Delusional.”

We enter the elevator that leads up to Ethan’s place. My phone chimes, and I pull it out of my pocket to look at it. It’s a text from my assistant.

Would you like your jet prepared for a flight to San Diego?

I think for a moment. Ethan would probably be pissed if I left tonight. I sigh, shooting a quick text back.

Not tonight.

The elevator opens to Ethan’s place.

“Hello?” Ryan shouts. “We’re here!”

Ethan walks into the common area. “Took you two long enough.”

“You’re lucky I came at all,” I say, heading straight for his bar. “I hope you know I’m drinking your most expensive scotch.”

I search his shelf, quickly spotting the Macallan twenty-five year.

“Pour me a glass, too,” Ryan says, walking up behind me.

I grab two glasses and pour each of us two fingers. We both take a sip as Ethan walks up, preparing a glass of his own. The rich flavor hits my tongue, flooding my palate with notes of warm spice and dark chocolate. It goes down velvety smooth, leaving a satisfying aftertaste.

“Man, that’s good.” I slide my tongue across my teeth, savoring it.

The two men nod in agreement, and Ethan sets his glass down on the bar, a grin spreading across his face.

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