Page 85 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter Two

Ezra

The elevator glides smoothly to the top floor of the Phoenix Tech headquarters, its mirrored walls catching glimpses of Elijah beside me.

He’s leaning casually against the rail, hands in his pockets, and a faint smile playing on his lips.

It’s the same expression he wore back at the coffee shop—the one that says he knows something I don’t and is thoroughly enjoying it.

“Let me guess,” he says, breaking the silence. “You’re going to dive straight into emails, ignore lunch, and spend the rest of the day arguing with Donovan about the FireBird Project.”

“And let me guess,” I reply evenly, “you’re going to charm half the board into agreeing with whatever wild idea you came up with on the way here, making more work for me.”

He chuckles, the sound light and unbothered. “That’s why we make such a great team. You handle the boring bits, I handle the brilliant ones.”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You mean reckless.”

“Brilliant,” he corrects, his grin widening. “Face it, Ezra, you’d be bored without me.”

The elevator dings softly, and the doors slide open, revealing the sleek expanse of our office floor.

The space is as polished as the company we’ve built together.

Glass walls, modern furniture, and a view of the city stretches endlessly in every direction.

It culminates years of work, late nights, and dozens of debates. But it’s ours.

We were honorably discharged from the Army after serving eight years for our country.

Working in military intelligence with the Green Berets is where our spark for technology came from.

Elijah and I knew when we got out that we wanted to start our own tech company.

Quickly Phoenix Tech got on the Department of Defense's radar after the invention of our tracker devices and we’ve been DOD contracted with them ever since.

Clara, my assistant, is waiting just outside my office, as efficient as ever, with her tablet and a long list of tasks.

She greets us both, though I catch the faintest twitch of her lips at the sight of Elijah.

He has that effect on people, a natural charisma that makes them instantly at ease—or, in Clara’s case, slightly exasperated.

“Good morning, Mr. St. James,” she begins, addressing me first. “Your nine a.m. has been rescheduled to this afternoon, and Mr. Donovan is requesting an update on the FireBird Project. Also, the board has been asking about?—”

“I’ll handle it,” I say, cutting her off with a nod. “Anything else?”

Her gaze flicks to Elijah. “Your brother has already been in two meetings this morning. He said to let you know that he’s ‘making friends.’”

I sigh as Elijah smirks. “That’s what I do, Ezra,” he says, stepping into my office ahead of me. “You build the empire, I keep everyone happy.”

“And who keeps you happy?” I ask dryly, closing the door behind us.

He pauses, pretending to think it over. “You, obviously. What would I do without my overachieving, impossibly serious twin keeping me grounded?”

I shake my head but can’t suppress a faint smile. He’s not wrong. For all his spontaneity and charm, Elijah relies on me to keep the wheels turning. And for all my meticulous planning and control, I know I’d be lost without his optimism and instinct.

We settle into the office, the afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Elijah takes his usual seat across from my desk, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding still. Even here, in the space that’s supposed to be mine, he has a way of filling the room.

“So,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “What’s the plan for FireBird? Donovan’s been circling like a hawk, and you know he’s not the patient type.” Donovan is our contact for the DOD.

I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers as I consider the question. “The plan is the same as it was yesterday. We don’t move forward until we’re certain the tech is ready. I’m not risking a launch with unresolved variables.”

Elijah nods, but his eyes narrow slightly, the wheels turning in his head. “And if the board pushes for a timeline?”

“They’ll get one when I’m ready,” I reply firmly. “Not before.”

There’s a moment of silence, a rare pause in the constant push and pull of our partnership. Then Elijah leans forward, a spark of mischief returning to his eyes.

“Speaking of unresolved variables,” he says, “what did you think of the little raven-haired beauty from the coffee shop?”

I freeze for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “I think she makes a decent cup of coffee,” I mention, deliberately vague. He doesn’t know about our shared moment in the back room.

Elijah doesn’t buy it. “Come on, Ez. Don’t play coy with me. You stared at her half the time I was there.”

“She’s just a barista,” I counter, my tone carefully measured. But saying that, my brain instantly wants to reject the idea. She’s been my mind’s constant companion since this morning.

He grins, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. But something tells me she’s more than that. Small world and all.”

I don’t respond, turning my attention to the spreadsheet glowing on my screen. But as much as I try to push the conversation aside, I can’t ignore the unease creeping in. Elijah has always had a knack for seeing things I’d rather keep buried—even from myself.

He doesn’t bring it up again, and the afternoon passes in a blur of meetings and conference calls. By the time eight o'clock rolls around, my shoulders are stiff, and a headache starts to pound behind my eyes.

I lean back in my chair, trying to unclench my jaw. I feel a little like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap.

“Still working?” Elijah's voice floats through the doorway. He's leaning against the frame, a smirk playing on his lips. “Thought we agreed you were going to try to be less of a workaholic.”

I shrug, running a hand through my hair. “Just wrapping up a few things.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Doesn't look like a few.”

I lean back up, studying him. He's wearing his usual casual style, the kind that looks effortlessly pristine. It's an image he's worked hard to perfect. But I know the truth beneath the layers—that there's a reason we're so similar, even though we're complete opposites.

“It’s fine,” I say, dismissing the concern in his eyes. “I’ll be done soon.”

“If you say so,” he replies, shrugging. “Hayden and the guys wanted to go down to the pub tonight. We’ve worked our asses off this week and I think it’s time for some drinks.”

“Then go have fun,” I tell him, turning my attention back to the spreadsheet on my screen. “But don’t get too crazy.”

He rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s like you think I'm a child. I've got this under control, big brother. Just come have some fun once in a while, huh?”

I look up from my desk and level my gaze at him. “I have fun,” I say, trying to keep the defensive tone out of my voice. “I just have responsibilities, too.”

His grin turns sly. “We both know that’s a load of crap. You’re the most serious person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Just remember, the world won’t stop spinning if you take a day off.”

I sit and think about all the work that needs to be done this weekend. Things are piling up but I have the sudden urge to throw it from my desk. “Fuck it. I’m in.”

Elijah grins. “That’s my bro. Let’s get fucked up.” He slaps me on the back, his expression shifting to one of his typical mischief. “Remember, we’ve got a board meeting tomorrow. Can’t have you looking too rough.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. That’ll be at the forefront of my mind as I’m downing drinks.”

The bar is bustling when we arrive, the air thick with the smell of beer and fried food. Hayden waves us over to a table in the corner, and we settle in.

“Bosses’ night out,” he says, lifting his pint glass in a salute.

“May we forget about work for at least a few hours.” Hayden Johnston comes from old money and took over his father’s business a couple of years ago.

He’s not as ruthless as I am in business, but he’s smart, efficient, and knows how to get a job done.

We’ve been doing business with him for the last couple of years, and he’s become a close friend.

I nod, taking a sip of my drink, the ice-cold whiskey a welcome contrast to the heat of the room. The place is packed, and I can feel the hum of conversation all around me.

Nicolas joins the group, pulling up a chair.

He’s the youngest of us at thirty-one, but he’s got an old soul.

Nicolas is a brilliant architect. His designs are all over the world, but his main home is here in the city.

He's been a friend of mine since the military and has helped me design a couple of buildings for Phoenix Tech.

“Look at us.” Nicolas laughs, clinking glasses with me. “A bunch of grown men, still hanging out like we’re in college. What would your shareholders think, Ezra?”

I smile, shaking my head. “They’d be shocked to see me in a place like this. It’s not exactly a five-star restaurant.” I gesture at the bar, which is well-worn and comfortable, if a little rough around the edges.

Elijah takes a long drink, setting his glass down with a satisfied thunk. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You're a damn CEO, but you still have to take a break now and then.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny that being here, away from the pressures of Phoenix Tech and the board, feels good.

“So, what are we going to do about the barista?” Elijah asks, leaning back in his seat and looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I stare at him, my face a picture of innocence. “What do you mean?” I know exactly what he means, but I'm not about to admit it. Not yet, anyway. The thought of her—the way she moves, the way she smiles—has been on my mind all day.

“I mean, are we going to make a move on her?” Elijah asks, his voice dripping with suggestion.

I take a sip of my whiskey, the liquid burning down my throat.

“Hold up. What girl are we talking about here?” Hayden asks, his curiosity piqued.

“A little raven-haired vixen that works at a coffee shop near our office,” Elijah explains, his grin widening. “She’s got Ezra’s gears turning.”

“Sounds like trouble.” Hayden chuckles, eyeing me.

“Only the best kind.” Eli winks.

“You sure you can handle her, Ezra?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that…” I begin, but I’m cut off by Nic.

“Has someone captured the interest of the St. James most eligible bachelors?” Nicolas asks, his tone laced with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “This, I’ve got to see. Tell us more.”

Elijah leans in, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, there’s not much to tell,” he drawls, his words slow and deliberate. “She’s just... different. Something about her, you know?”

Hayden raises an eyebrow. “Different, huh? Is that code for ‘she’s completely out of your league’?”

Elijah laughs, the sound rich and full. “Maybe a little. She’s definitely not like the others.”

Nicolas takes a sip of his whiskey, his eyes twinkling. “So, you're both into her, huh? And you think she's into both of you?”

“Doubtful. Look at these ugly mugs,” Hayden chimes in, laughing.

“She’d be insane to pass up either of you. But both at the same time? That's a tall order.” Nic throws back a shot and places it back on the table.

“Is it, though?” Elijah asks, leaning forward on the table. “You ever been in a polyamorous relationship?”

“No, but I’ve heard about them,” Nic admits. “I can’t even deal with one woman.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more common than you’d think,” Elijah says, shrugging.

“Then have you ever been in one?” Hayden asks, eyeing him.

“Not so much a relationship but haven’t you heard that we like to share?” Elijah gestures his hand between us. “It comes natural with us being twins and all. Plus, you’d be surprised how many women beg for our package deal.” He wiggles his eyebrows and takes another sip of his drink.

“Oh, everyone’s heard. I just didn’t know it was true. You guys don’t really discuss your bedroom proclivities in the boardroom.” Hayden motions to the bartender. “Another round, please.”

“We don’t share everything. But when it comes to women and business deals, we both get what we want.

So, why not just share?” I say matter of factly.

“I can’t speak for all twins. But for us, it's always been like that. It just felt right. Besides, the ladies are usually down for it. If anything, they’re too eager. ”

The bartender slides another round of shots across the bar to Hayden, then he plops one in front of each of us.

Elijah grabs his shot glass, and we all follow suit, raising them in a silent toast. “To sharing,” he laughs, a mischievous glint in his eye. We all clink our glasses together and throw back the shots, the Macallan burns a fiery trail down my throat.

I lean back in my chair, the whiskey already warming my veins.

Hayden studies us both, his gaze bouncing from Elijah to me. “I don’t buy it.” We all look at him as the mood shifts.

“Don’t buy what?” I ask, setting my shot glass down.

He leans forward with a serious expression. “That you two can share a woman and it not end in a fight. I’m calling bullshit.”

Elijah scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t be so sure, man. We’ve done it before, and it’s always been fine.”

Hayden arches a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think you can handle being in a polyamorous relationship without jealousy getting in the way?”

Nicolas laughs, shaking his head. “You two? No way. You’re both too damn stubborn.”

“What would you have us do then?” I ask, leaning back in my seat and looking at them both.

“A bet,” Hayden suggests, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You two have a month to win her over. If you can both get her, and not just into bed, by the end of the month, we’ll double our next investment in Phoenix Tech.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I glance at Elijah, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“And if we don't?” I ask, curious.

Hayden shrugs. “Then we pull out of the FireBird project. No hard feelings. Just a little friendly competition.”

I take a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn linger on my tongue. “You realize that pulling out will hurt you as well.”

Hayden nods. “We know. It’s just a bit of fun. A bet between friends.”

Elijah and I exchange a look. I can see the wheels turning in his head, the same as in mine. The chance to prove we can share a woman again without things falling apart? It’s a challenge we can’t resist. We’re too competitive to let someone else win.

“We’re in,” we say in unison, our voices blending.

“Excellent,” Hayden says, his grin widening. “Then let the games begin.”