Page 11 of Enemies with My Brother's Billionaire Bestie

“That’s for embarrassing me in front of Emma this morning!” she yells from behind the door, her voice muffled, but the fury behind it is unmistakable. The door slams against theframe, leaving me standing there, covered in flour, trying to comprehend what just happened.

Slowly, I begin brushing the white dust from my hair and clothes, trying to shake off the shock of the moment. Then I glance up at Julia, who’s standing there laughing like she just witnessed a sitcom-worthy disaster.

“Oh, Elliot,” she says between bursts of laughter. “Believe me, she’s been wanting to do that for ages. It’s oddly satisfying to watch, though, because you totally deserved it.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as I walk back to my car. Olivia has a way of throwing the most bizarre things at me. First, it was a turkey leg—yes, a full-on turkey leg. Now, it’s flour.

“Well, at least this time I won’t end up with a black eye,” I mutter to myself, eyeing my flour-dusted reflection in the car mirror. And then, unable to stop myself, I burst out laughing.

She’s tougher than I thought. I wonder if I should be worried she’s going to come after me with a rolling pin next.

Chapter seven

Olivia

This is it. The end. Nothing anyone says or does will change my mind, not even the sound of my brother pounding on my bedroom door for nearly twenty minutes.

"Ollie, you're being childish," Daniel groans from the other side, his voice muffled but full of frustration. "I can hear you moving around in there."

"I'm not going to any more wedding planning meetings, Daniel. Not until you find another best man," I shout back, my voice thick with defiance. For a moment, I think about holding my ground, but then I throw open the door, letting him in.

His face is haggard, like he’s just come out of a war zone—dark circles under his eyes, his blond hair sticking up like he hasn’t slept in days. But none of it is enough to sway me this time. My brother isn’t going to guilt-trip me into another meeting with Elliot, especially after the trainwreck the last one was.

Daniel flops down on my bed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Ollie, it’s just weeks until my wedding. I can’t exactly put up a sign that says 'Best Man Needed Urgently,' or find a website with best men for hire. Do you know anyone?"

"Of course I don’t know any websites like that. This isn’t some Hollywood rom-com." I cross my arms, my voice thick with irritation. "But I’m still not going through that again. Not with Elliot."

Daniel opens his mouth, likely to argue, then shuts it again, clearly at a loss for words. My eyes scan his faded orange shirt, stopping at the patch of dried coffee on it. I can’t imagine how many cups he’s had today, but the fact that he’s still standing after all that caffeine is impressive—or maybe just sad.

Finally, he stands up, stepping closer, and wraps his arms around me from behind. It’s a gesture of comfort, but it’s also a subtle plea for me to back down. And for a moment, I feel the walls I’ve been building over the past few days crack just a little.

“Don’t do that, Dee. You’re not going to change my mind,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.

He sighs, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Was the fight really that bad this time? Julia told me you threw a bag of flour at him. I mean, turning my best friend into an abominable snowman should be enough revenge, right?"

There’s a slight smile on his face, but I can see the worry behind it. It’s as if he’s trying to make light of the situation, but the tension is still there. And, of course, once again, my brother wins this round.

I know he’s right. The flour—no matter how satisfying in the moment—won’t undo what’s been said or done. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let it go just yet. Not with Elliot. Not with how everything’s changed.

The thought of the flour incident still makes me laugh, especially the look of utter shock on Elliot’s face as the flour exploded all over him. But, as satisfying as it was in the moment, it doesn’t change the hurtful things he said.

"He called me delusional and said a bunch of other mean things, so no, I don’t feel satisfied," I protest, catching the faint hint of laughter in my brother’s voice.

"But youarea little delusional, Ollie. Everyone knows that," Daniel starts, clearly trying to keep things light, but I elbow him hard in the belly before he can finish.

"Ouch!" he yelps, rubbing the spot where I jabbed him.

"You do this every time, Dee. You always side with Elliot! When stuff like this happens, you should be onmyside," I groan, feeling the sting of unshed tears behind my eyes.

Before I can say more, Daniel pulls me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard. "I’m not taking sides, Ollie," he says softly. "I just wish the two people I care about would stop making this wedding a hell of a lot harder than it already is with their constant bickering."

I sigh, knowing he’s right. From trying to give Julia the wedding of her dreams to the tug-of-war between me and Elliot, Daniel’s been stretched thin, and I can see it weighing on him.

"You look a mess," I mutter, hugging him back, yielding to the comfort he’s offering.

Daniel pulls away, sniffing his shirt with a dramatic gag. "You saying I look a mess is the nicest way to put it. Julia says I look like I’ve been run over by a truck and refuses to even look at me until I clean up," he says, gesturing to his disheveled appearance with a theatrical sweep of his hand.

I laugh—a real laugh for the first time since the flour incident with Elliot. "I think she's right. You might want to see a stylist, and who knows, maybe I'll attend the next meeting."

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