Page 13 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

“You dated Vanessa in this building.”

“And she worked in cybersecurity. She never reported to me. That relationship was cleared by legal.”

“This is different. Parker’s directly under you—” He winces, shaking his head. “I did not need that mental image.”

I sigh. “Phil. I have no idea what that audio is. Could it be a deepfake? Sure. Could it be a prank by Icon PR to rattleour image? Absolutely. Vanessa knows exactly where our weak points are. She knows how to strike.”

Phil rakes a hand through his hair and paces. “You’re telling me nothing happened?”

“I’m telling you that Parker is safe. No one here is going to hurt her, or compromise her. You know me.”

He stares at me. Hard. Like he’s trying to peel back all the layers I’ve spent years crafting. Finally, he mutters, “I want to believe you.”

“Then do.”

“I don’t want her reputation torn apart.”

“It won’t be.”

“Because you’ll protect her?”

“Because she’s earned that protection. Not because of me. Because of the job she’s doing.”

Phil nods slowly. The edge in his posture softens, just slightly. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looks toward the windows like they hold some answer he hasn’t found yet. “I’m trusting you,” he says eventually.

“You always have before. This isn’t any different.”

He heads for the door, pauses before pulling it open. “I meant it, you know,” he says, not turning back. “I vouched for you, for this place. I told her you were safe.”

He leaves before I can respond.

And I don’t move. Because I don’t deserve that trust. Not after what I did. What I still want to do.

I sit down slowly and drag a hand down my face. I didn’t lie. But I didn’t tell the truth either. I’m not sure which is worse.

The worst part? It wasn’t just Jack. It wasn’t just Harrison. It wasn’t just a moment of heat or confusion. I wanted her. And she wanted me.

That’s what keeps me up at night.

Not the scandal. Not the board. Not the fucking gossip blogs. It’s the memory of her lips. Of her eyes locking on mine like she saw through the suit, the position, the name, and still wanted more. It had nothing to do withwhatI am and everything to do withwhoI am.

That’s the part I can’t shake.

My phone buzzes again. I don’t want to look. It’s her. It’s always her.

I answer without thinking. Reflex. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Do you think this is funny?” Vivian hisses.

“I think it’s a little after eight on a Monday morning, and you’ve called me twice.”

“You’re trending.”

“Comes with the territory.”

“Not like this. You are everywhere. YouTube, Twitter, TikTok. The hashtags are disgusting.”

“I’ve had legal issue takedowns.”