Page 77 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
I blink.
She shrugs. “I’m not even sorry.”
And that might be the hottest thing of all.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She doesn’t look at me right away. “I was until I realized I broke her front tooth.”
I blink. “Are you…regretting it?”
She finally turns her head. “Just shocked at howgoodit felt.”
I chuckle under my breath. There’s a fine line between disaster and legend, and somehow, Parker just walked it in heels. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Technically—”
“If you have to start a sentence withtechnically, then you know it’s wrong.”
She sighs. “I just didn’t think tonight would go from pregnancy reveal to public takedown in under ten minutes.”
“Honestly? It’s kind of on-brand.”
She laughs, surprised. “You think this is my brand?”
“Chaos and grace? With a side of ‘don’t test me’ attitude? Yeah. Feels about right.”
Behind us, Gavin’s on the phone with someone—I assume legal. Harrison’s speaking with the woman managing the lounge security detail. Everyone’s spinning. Working. Already solving the next problem before it starts.
But Parker? She’s calm now. Settled. Like putting Vanessa in her place realigned her center of gravity.
I step in front of her, blocking the view outside. “Seriously. You good?”
She nods. “Better now.”
And I believe her. God help me, I do. Because Parker isn’t just surviving anymore. She’s owning the room and the men in it.
The music downstairs picks back up like nothing happened. Someone—probably Gavin—gave the go-ahead to resume the schedule. Champagne’s flowing again. The acrobatics resume. No one’s talking about Parker. No one’s whispering about Vanessa. At least, not where I can hear them.
That’s the thing about public spectacle. People only remember the version they’re told to remember. We’re good at that. We’ve built a business on it.
But Parker? She didn’t do any of this for spin. She didn’t trip Vanessa for applause or PR dominance. She did it because she’s done letting people like Vanessa take things from her.
And I’ve never wanted her more.
She walks back toward the couches and sinks into one with a quiet sigh. Her heels are finally getting to her. She sets her drink on the table and leans back, tilting her head toward the ceiling like she needs a minute of absolute nothing.
I give her one. Then I sit beside her, close but not crowding. “You do realize,” I murmur, “that was possibly the most terrifying and impressive thing I’ve ever seen.”
She cracks an eye open. “Terrifying?”
“In the best way.”
She smiles. “I kept thinking you were going to stop me.”
“I was. At first.”
“But you didn’t.”
