Page 18 of Enemies with My Brother's Billionaire Bestie

His hand moves to my forehead, and I flinch under his touch. “Don’t do that,” I say, stepping back and accidentally bumping my hip into the hood again.

“Great, at this rate, I’ll need a hip replacement surgery,” I grumble, and he smiles, the kind of smile that makes my heart flutter despite my frustration.

“You should breathe, Ollie. You look like a cherry about to pop,” he teases, pointing at my face, and that doesn’t help my embarrassment at all.

“I’m breathing, dude.”

“I can see that,” he says sarcastically, glancing down at my tee-shirt. The words “I’m Still Breathing” are emblazoned across it, part of a mental health awareness campaign I attended.

“Haha, funny joke, but you shouldn’t have drowned yourself in cologne,” I snap, walking away so he won’t find something else to point out about me.

My cheeks are hot, my hips throb, and I feel like a walking disaster. I might as well be nicknamed Miss Clumsy, considering how I always seem to trip over myself when Elliot’s around. Whether it’s falling into the ocean, bumping into things, or dressing like a banana, his presence makes me feel like a fool, reinforcing his claims that I’m delusional or worse. I don’t want to give him more ammunition.

When I step into Emma’s office, I’m still reeling from the embarrassment. It’s hard to even look at Elliot, not when I’m unsure whether he’s going to say something that’ll make my heart race or make me mad.

Emma claps her hands excitedly, her eyes gleaming as she turns on the projector. “Great to see you both together! Now, let’s dive into the plans for Julia’s rehearsal dinner.”

Elliot’s quiet this time—no mean comments, just the occasional grunt or nod when asked for his opinion. At least he’s letting things go smoothly. Although he still has his objections, like when the idea of flower petals on the ground comes up.

“If we’re using my restaurant, I don’t want to deal with any accidents. Servers could slip on petals, and I don’t need to be responsible for it,” he says, his voice stern but logical. So, we reluctantly agree to scrap the petals.

“My house, my rules,” he says, which gives him some leverage, since he’s offering his largest function room for the event.

By the end of the meeting, we remain seated, no hair out of place, no shouting. It’s a significant improvement from our last encounter.

“Great, so we’ll have a quick rehearsal dinner tomorrow evening. Do you think we can fit that into your restaurant schedule?” Emma asks, watching Elliot closely, clearly anticipating some resistance.

“Sure, I’ll call my assistant to start getting things in order. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call,” he says, bowing slightly, before walking out of the room.

Emma stares after him, almost as if she can’t believe what just happened. “I guess miracles do happen,” she says, and we both giggle.

“I don’t think we can call it a miracle yet,” I reply. “He could still pull a 180.”

Emma shakes her head. “Nah, if he was going to do that, he would’ve stopped us from the beginning. Elliot and flowers? That’s almost unimaginable.”

She’s right. Elliot isn’t exactly the type for this kind of thing, but after our last encounter at his restaurant, where he shifted from gruff to gentle, I wonder if he’s capable of much more if he chose to be.

I pull Emma close, glancing at the door to make sure Elliot isn’t about to walk back in. “I think I’ll need your help with something else, Em, something I didn’t mention because of you-know-who.”

Her silence answers my question before she speaks. “Does it have something to do with love and making our plans even grander?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and my smile grows.

“This is why we should be soul sisters, Em.”

“Tell me, what do you need?” she says, pulling out her iPad to take notes.

“Candles. Lots of candles,” I wink, and she nods eagerly.

As we head out of the office, I notice Elliot’s suspicious glances, but I’m not about to tell him anything. He has a knack for ruining surprises.

“Can we go now? I’ve got business meetings outside of town,” he says, looking tense.

“Sure, see you tomorrow evening,” Emma waves us off.

Elliot looks like he’s running out of time. “So, you’re dressed like this and smell like a cologne factory because of a business meeting?” I tease as I grab a Diet Coke from my bag.

“Yeah, if you put it that way,” he replies casually. “I’m meeting with my associates about a new location we’re considering opening.”

“Another Parsley’s? Don’t you already have seven across the state?”

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