Page 47 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
I stop after another minute, bent over at the waist, hands on my knees. My sweat hits the rubber flooring in drops. My chest is heaving.
I need a fucking shower.
I peel off the gloves, sling them across the bench, and head to the bathroom. My room’s next to the gym, and the en suite is big, stone-walled, and quiet. I kick off my shorts, twist the water on hot, and step under the stream without giving myself time to think.
It helps.
A little.
The water beats against my shoulders, loosening muscles that haven’t relaxed in days. I lean one hand against the tile, bracing myself, and drop my head.
I’m falling for her. That’s the truth I’ve been trying not to admit. And it could ruin me.
I’m still under the water when I hear the knock. It’s quiet, just once. Then her voice follows. “Harrison?”
I straighten. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she says, muffled through the wood. “I just…can we talk?”
I hesitate.
My towel’s on the hook beside the shower. I shut off the water, grab it, and wrap it low around my hips. Then I open the bathroom door.
She’s standing there, barefoot, in one of the oversized sweatshirts we keep folded on the bench. No makeup. Hair loose. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, and a little red-rimmed like she’s been thinking too hard.
And she looks like the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen.
Not because she’s sexy—though she is. Not because she’s half-undressed—thoughthat’sdefinitely not helping. But because I want her.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Come in.”
She steps inside and closes the door behind her. Doesn’t sit right away. Just sort of…hovers near the bed, arms crossed over her stomach.
I sit on the edge of the mattress and wait.
She paces a little, then finally blurts out, “What’s going on with Gavin?”
I blink. “Gavin?”
“Yeah. One-on-one, he’s cold. Distant. But when it’s all of us—he touches me, looks at me, like hewantssomething. But then he vanishes again.”
I stay quiet for a moment. Then pat the space next to me.
She sits. Her hands twist in her lap. “Jack said it’s not personal.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
I exhale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation. Not because I wanted to have it—but because I knewsomeonehad to explain the mess behind the mask. “He’s scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of himself.”
She looks at me.
I shrug. “Vivian’s been grooming him to be perfect since he was in utero. Control everything. Don’t show weakness. Don’t want anything too much, or it can be used against you.”
