Page 12 of My Best Friend’s Billionaire Brother (Billionaire Brothers #4)

Josie

I sink into the couch, Roberta immediately taking her place on my lap, kneading biscuits into my thighs and purring. I stroke her fur absentmindedly, my mind running through the events of the last hour.

I broke up with Owen.

It’s odd, I expect to feel some kind of sadness. Some kind of heartache. But I don’t. I mainly just feel anger.

And relief.

Fuck. It suddenly dawns on me how big of a bullet I just dodged. While Owen hadn’t seemed controlling in the beginning, those aspects of his personality had been starting to peek out the last month or so. And yes, after his behavior tonight, breaking up with him was the right call. The only call.

Roberta curls up on my lap, purring quietly before falling asleep. I reach for the remote beside me, turning on some mindless reality show that will hopefully calm my brain and get my mind off Owen. My nervous system is still all jacked up.

Half an hour later, though, there’s a knock at my door loud enough to startle Roberta awake and have her dashing for the safety of the bedroom.

I glance to the door in alarm. It’s almost 10 p.m. Who would be here?

I hurry to the door and glance through the peephole to see none other than Owen. I pull back, sighing in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk, Owen!” I yell through the door .

“Open the door,” he calls back. “Come on. You at least owe me a conversation. You just left—we didn’t get to talk!”

I pause. He might be right. We did date for four months. Isn’t an actual conversation kind of owed? Besides, I don’t want him to keep screaming outside of my door and upsetting my neighbors.

After a brief moment of consideration, I give in and unlock the door.

But as soon as Owen steps over the threshold, I wonder if that might have been a mistake.

He angrily storms into my apartment. “What the fuck was that, Josie?” he demands.

I swallow, turning to face him. “Owen, I know you’re upset, but how you spoke to me—on multiple occasions—wasn’t okay,” I say evenly.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” he shoots back. It’s then that I realize he’s drunk. And not just drunk, but really drunk .

“This might not be the best time to have this conversation,” I tell him, trying to keep my tone as light as possible. “How about we meet up tomorrow, okay?” I try to gesture to the door, but he simply shakes his head, stomping into the living room and pacing back and forth.

“You embarrassed me,” he yells. “In front of my friends. Who the hell does that?”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I tell him. “But I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re drunk. Please leave, and we can talk tomorrow.” I try to keep my voice firm and even, but the look in Owen’s eyes is starting to scare me.

“You can’t dump me in front of my friends,” he shouts, turning and kicking my couch hard enough that it lurches back a few feet.

I startle at the sound, taking a few involuntary steps back. “Owen,” I say loudly, keeping my voice firm. “Please leave. ”

“I’m not fucking leaving, Josie. You don’t just get to act like a bitch and get away with it.”

It’s at that moment that I turn and run down the hallway, careening into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I can’t tell if Owen followed me or not. He’s probably too drunk to even see straight.

I pull up Chloe’s contact on my phone and call her.

Maybe she and Turner can come over and help me persuade Owen to leave.

Or maybe I can just stay the night with them.

But as the rings continue, I realize she isn’t going to pick up.

She and Turner are early risers and are never awake this late.

I try calling a few more times, to no avail.

“Shit,” I mutter.

A bang on the bathroom door has me jumping up with a small shriek. “Come out and talk to me,” Owen demands. He bangs a few more times.

I bite my lip, staring down at my phone. Calling the police feels like turning this whole nightmare into something even more complicated. Besides, don’t they take forever to respond anyway? It’s then that I see the other “Summers” contact in my phone right next to Chloe’s.

Will.

Would he even help me? It’s not like we’re friends, exactly. More like … god, I don’t even know what we are. And we haven’t seen each other since Vegas. Vegas, where he asked me personal questions about my relationship and told me Owen was an asshole.

Which, unfortunately, he was right about.

Another violent bang on my bathroom door makes up my mind, and before I can stop myself, I’m calling Will’s phone. It rings enough times that I worry he won’t pick up.

But finally, he does. “Josie …?” His deep voice reverberates through the phone, coated in confusion.

“Will,” I say, my voice choking, even to my own surprise. “Can you come to my apartment? ”

“What’s going on?” he asks, his tone shifting to concern.

Owen bangs on the door again, forcing a startled cry from my lips. “Owen’s here, and he’s drunk, and he won’t leave, and I just need … I need—”

“Send me your location, I’ll leave right now,” he interrupts me.

“Okay,” I breathe. I end the call and immediately text him my location.

“I’m not leaving, and you’ll have to come out of there eventually,” Owen shouts, his words slightly slurred.

He bangs on the door again, and then I see the handle jiggling as he wrestles with the lock.

I pray that it holds, glancing around the bathroom for anything I could use in self-defense.

I settle on a can of hairspray, clutching it tightly in my hand, figuring I could temporarily blind him while I make a run for it if needed.

It only takes ten minutes for Will to make it to my apartment. “Josie!” I hear him yell upon entering the door that I thankfully left open when Owen had barged in.

I hear a confused noise from Owen outside the bathroom door and then his steps as he stumbles toward the front door. I unlock the bathroom and step out into the hall to see Owen about ten feet away from me, facing an angry-looking Will who’s just stepped through the door into my apartment.

Owen whirls around to face me. “Who the fuck is that?” he yells, pointing at Will.

“My friend,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it comes out small, scared. “I called him when you wouldn’t leave.”

“Your friend ,” Owen scoffs. “A friend who runs to your apartment in the middle of the night? What kind of friend is that?” He turns fully to face me now, taking a step forward.

“Leave, Owen,” I demand, taking an involuntary step back. But there’s only a closet behind me. Nowhere to go .

“You heard her, man.” Will’s voice is soft yet commanding. He walks down the hall.

Owen looks over his shoulder at Will, sizing him up. But he’s too drunk to care that Will is practically a foot taller than him, and much scarier too. He’s got a fire in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Sure, I’ve seen grumpy Will. But angry Will? Never.

“This the reason you broke up with me, Josie?” Owen snaps at me. “So you could fuck this douchebag?”

“Leave the apartment. I’m not going to ask again,” Will says.

Owen scoffs, taking another step toward me. I shrink away. “I never knew you were such a slut,” he spits at me.

At this, Will snaps. He covers the distance between them, grabbing the back of Owen’s shirt in two fistfuls, yanking him away from me and then slamming him against the wall. Both Owen and I let out a startled cry. A few canvasses clatter from the wall to the floor.

“Don’t you dare speak to her like that,” Will mutters dangerously. Owen struggles against him, but Will simply slams him harder against the wall. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Owen stutters.

After a few seconds, Will lets him go, and Owen backs away quickly, angrily fixing his shirt. “Jesus, man,” he snaps.

“Get out,” Will orders, pointing to the door.

Owen glares at him, and then over his shoulder at me. “Really, Josie? You called this prick to handle your business for you?”

“Get out or I’m gonna slam your head into the wall next,” Will says, his tone rising ever so slightly. He takes a step forward, and this time, Owen reacts.

He hurries toward the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he leaves. “Fuck you. Both of you,” he snaps before slamming the door behind him.

The silence settles around us, but the tension remains. Will turns around to face me, the anger in his expression completely gone, replaced by concern.

I stand frozen where I am, unable to take a step, unable to move.

“Josie,” he says softly, and I can feel myself cracking. I cover my face with my hands so he won’t see the tears.

I hear his footsteps, and then I feel his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me into his chest. A quiet sob escapes me as I let myself be pulled into his embrace, inhaling the smell of him. Pine and peppermint.

“You’re okay,” Will murmurs. “You’re okay.”

I nod against him, breathing deeply and calming myself down. Everything is fine. Nothing happened. Will came. He came . It suddenly dawns on me how amazing it is that he dropped everything to come to my apartment within ten minutes.

I sniffle, pulling back just far enough to look up into his face. “Were you busy?” I ask.

An incredulous scoff erupts from his lips, and he shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t busy.”

“Thank you for coming,” I whisper.

He stares down at me, his smile slowly morphing into something more serious. “Thank you for calling me.”

I frown in confusion. “Why … would you thank me for that?” I stammer.

He purses his lips, searching my eyes. “Josie, if anything had happened to you … if he’d done something to you …”

Suddenly my chest feels tight, like I can’t get enough air.

As if I could get all the air in the world but it still wouldn’t be enough.

Will’s gaze is boring holes in my soul, staring deeper and deeper.

His gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes.

His chest is noticeably rising and falling, like he can’t seem to get enough air either.