Page 76 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
“I know.”
She grits her teeth, eyes still on Vanessa. “She’s going to sell it.”
“I know.”
“She insulted our baby.”
That one lands deep. I see it in Gavin’s face. In Harrison’s jaw.
Still, I speak gently. “We can’t keep her here against her will. If we try, she’ll use that against us. Even without the recording.”
Parker doesn’t answer.
Vanessa shifts her weight. “You really want to make this harder for yourself?”
Parker leans in, voice deadly soft. “I’ve got about fifteen years of rage stored up, sweetheart. Don’t test me.”
For a moment, I think it’s going to happen. Her hand twitches. Vanessa smiles, too pleased with herself. But Parker takes a breath. Steps back.
Good. It’s over.
Then Vanessa opens her mouth and proves how little she understands other women. Her eyes narrow as she looks at Parker, head tilted just enough to signal something vicious is coming. “You know what the funniest thing is?” she says, syrupyand smug. “You thought one of them might love you for real. That’s almost cute.”
Parker doesn’t blink. She doesn’t say a word. She just steps aside, like she’s letting Vanessa pass.
And Vanessa—smirking, oblivious, triumphant—turns for the door. She doesn’t see Parker’s foot sweep out behind her.
But everyone else does. It’s fast. Sharp. Effortless.
Vanessa goes down hard. Teeth-first on polished marble. The sound is like a mic drop from hell.
A gasp rises from the hallway just beyond the lounge doors—guests catching a glimpse of the scene. Two staff members stand frozen mid-step, someone’s champagne glass sloshing from the sudden stop.
Vanessa groans. Rolls over. Blood is already starting to trickle from her mouth.
Parker steps forward slowly. Kneels beside her. Voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear her ask, “Oh no. Are you okay?”
Vanessa groans again. Her lip’s already swelling. One tooth—front and center—is cracked. Its match is three feet away from her, with a tiny bloody trail behind it.
“I tried to warn you,” Parker coos, brushing Vanessa’s hair gently off her face. “The uneven floor in here is brutal. You poor thing.”
Behind her, Gavin’s stunned. Harrison has both hands on his hips like he’s trying not to burst out laughing. I’m somewhere between horror and awe.
Parker stands up and brushes her dress smooth. “I can’t believe she tripped,” she says, turning back to us.
I clear my throat. “Me either.”
Harrison nods. “I can. She’s always had terrible balance when she drinks.”
Gavin doesn’t speak. He just walks over and crouches beside Vanessa. Picks up her clutch. Removes her phone. And slides it into his own jacket pocket.
Then he lends her a hand up, while Parker collects Vanessa’s tooth in a cup of milk from catering. One of the staff comes rushing in with a towel, eyes wide. Another appears behind him with a radio clipped to her hip and the tight-lipped calm of someone used to handling celebrities and disasters. Gavin gives her a look, and she nods, already moving into cleanup mode.
Vanessa is humiliated, and can’t even speak to save her ass. Her lips are too swollen and her teeth are too fucked up.
Parker doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t gloat. She walks alongside Vanessa out the front, tooth cup in hand. Vanessa is still dabbing her mouth with a monogrammed towel and trying to speak through the swelling, but no one’s really listening anymore. An ambulance takes Vanessa from the party, and her cohorts follow in their cars. No more Icon PR at the party.
When she returns to the lounge, Parker stands by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the glittering crowd below. She walks over to the bar in the corner of the lounge, pours herself a ginger ale, and downs it like a shot. Then she turns to face us. “What?”
