Page 33 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
We haven’t used it in months. But now? We need it.
“I’m in,” Jack says.
We both look toward Gavin’s office.
“You think he’ll go for it?” I ask.
Jack shrugs. “Only one way to find out.”
We find him sitting at his desk, sleeves buttoned, cuff links glinting in the light. He looks up and reads the exhaustion in our faces instantly. “Whatever it is, I probably hate it.”
“The cabin,” Jack says.
Gavin leans back in his chair. “Jesus. We haven’t been up there since?—”
“Exactly,” I cut in.
He rubs his temple. “I can’t just disappear.”
“You’re CEO,” Jack says. “You can do whatever the hell you want.”
Gavin sighs, long and hard. “Fine.”
Then Jack says it. “We should bring Parker.”
My gut tightens. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Maybe because it’s the kind of thing you’re supposed tothinkand notsay.But it’s out there now, hanging in the air like smoke.
I glance at Gavin.
He doesn’t speak right away. Then, “You sure that’s smart?”
Jack shrugs. “You want to keep pretending we’re not all thinking about her, be my guest. But I’m tired of the tension. Let’s figure it out.”
Gavin meets my eyes.
I say nothing. But I know. We’re already too deep. Might as well stop pretending the water’s shallow.
By the time I get back to my office, the room feels too small. Too still. Like the air itself has closed in on me. I drop into my chair, hands braced on the arms, and stare out the floor-to-ceiling window like it’s going to offer answers.
We’re bringing her. To the cabin.
The one place we go when the walls start closing in. When the deals go sideways and the pressure gets sharp enough to cut. When we can’t see each other in the office without someone snapping. It’s our reset button.
And we just agreed to bring the woman we’re all quietly losing our minds over into that space. Smart? Fuck no.
Necessary? Maybe.
I rub my palms over my face and lean forward, elbows on knees. I don’t want to do this. Not really. But the idea ofnotseeing her there, of knowing she’s still down here in the city while the three of us are pretending we don’t want her in every goddamn way that matters? That’s worse.
I close my eyes.
It’s not just about the sex. God knows that’s good—better than good, it’s life-changing—but it’s not the thing that scares me. What scares me is how much Ilikebeing around her. Theway I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she always seems surprised when someone acknowledges her, like she’s forgotten she’s allowed to be seen.
That vulnerability? It wrecks me.
I know what it is to be underestimated. Looked past. Expected to stay grateful and quiet. And when she looks at me like I’m more than a number on a spreadsheet, like I’m aman—not a title, not a suit—I forget to be defensive.
I just want her. And now I’ve agreed to bring her to the one place where everything always gets messier before it gets clean.
