Page 46 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
I don’t know what this is yet. It’s a lot easier to chase the high of the image, the polished version of connection that plays well in a headline. But with Parker, it’s not about polish. It’s aboutpresence.About the way she sees through all of it and still chooses to stand here, scared but not running.
She pulls back slowly, just enough to look up at me. “I don’t regret you,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I regret not being ready for what this might mean.”
“You have time to catch up.”
Her eyes widen.
I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “No pressure. No timeline. Just…let me be here.”
She nods.
That’s all I need. I kiss her—slow, deliberate. Not hungry. Not frenzied. Just…honest. She sighs into it, syrup on her lips, her arms winding around my waist, her body pressing closer. The kiss deepens, lazy and lingering, like we’re both afraid to let it end.
“I should probably get dressed,” she murmurs after a minute.
I might actually get to clear my head if she does that. “Take your time.”
After she’s gone back upstairs and I’ve finally pulled myself together, I sit at the kitchen island with another cup of coffee.
The waffles are cold now. The sun’s higher. But I feel…steady. There are still a thousand things that could go wrong. Vivian could find out. Phil could implode. The board could sniff blood and start probing for weaknesses.
They can all go fuck themselves.
12
HARRISON
The thingabout building a life from nothing is that you learn how fast it can all be taken away.
I’ve never had a trust fund. Never had a safety net. I didn’t get to start this game on second base while everyone clapped for me like I hit a double. I built everything I have with bare hands and bad hours, working weekends when my friends were still sleeping off hangovers.
And because of that—because of how hard I had to fight to get here—I’ve always known how fragile it all is. Which is why I should be scared right now.
Scratch that—Iamscared.
Because everything feels like it’s teetering. The company. The board. Parker. Her most of all.
I throw another jab into the bag hanging in the corner of the cabin’s gym, my fist connecting with the worn leather in a solidthunk. Sweat rolls down my chest, soaking through the waistband of my shorts. I’m shirtless, barefoot, and panting, but I don’t stop. Can’t.
This is the only thing that keeps the noise quiet.
My body is sore from the last few days—hell, myeverythingis sore—but I don’t care. The physical pain is easier than the other kind.
If the board finds out…ifVivianfinds out…it won’t just cost Parker. It could costme. Everything I’ve worked for. Every inch of credibility I clawed out of concrete. They’ll say I used my position. Took advantage. That I crossed a line.
And maybe I did.
But I didn’t mean to.
Parker was never the plan. She justhappened. Like a storm rolling in under clear skies. She looked at me like I was more than a suit, more than the guy who signs checks and keeps the machine oiled. She looked at me like I was worthfeelingsomething for.
And that?
That scared the shit out of me.
The night in the elevator? Spontaneous. None of us went into the elevator thinking about a four-way. It was chemical, undeniable. Just like every other second around that woman.
The punching bag rocks again from the force of my next hit. My knuckles ache even through the gloves. I don’t care. I need to hit something.Anything.Because I don’t know what to do with the way this woman’s gotten under my skin, wrapped herself around my ribs, and taken up permanent residence in the part of me I swore I’d keep guarded.
