Page 16 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

“She seems competent,” I say, which is true and also nowhere near the full truth.

“She is,” he says, sipping his coffee. “And she’s family. You know what I mean.”

I nod once. “I do.” That’s the line, then. Drawn with a smile, but it’s a line all the same. She’s off-limits. Which I already knew. Hell of a lot of good it did Friday night.

I’ve been hearing about it since before she even started. Gavin told me once, Jack too. Don’t look twice. Don’t think about it. Phil will lose his shit.

But now she’s here. And thinking about her is getting harder to avoid.

Lunch is with Phil.It was supposed to be casual. I chose a spot near the office, somewhere with overpriced salads and cold brew on tap. Neutral. Professional.

He’s tense from the moment he sits down. “You saw the shit about my sister, right?” Straight into it. No small talk.

“Yeah,” I say. “Came across it Saturday night.”

He leans forward. “Is it bullshit?”

“I don’t know.”

He gives me a look. “Come on.”

“There’s no video,” I say. “Just audio. Audio can be faked. Hell, video can be faked too. You know that. You work in marketing. You’ve seen what AI can do.”

“But itsoundedreal.”

“Sound is subjective. Hell, I could record you right now and make it sound like you’re serenading a goat in five minutes with the right software.”

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his face falls into serious territory—unusual for Phil.

I get it. It’s his sister. “Look, man,” I say, keeping my tone level, “you know me. You know Jack. You know Gavin. If something had happened…we wouldn’t let her take the fall. We’d protect her.”

He sighs. Leans back in his chair. “I want to believe you.”

“Then do.”

“She’s off-limits,” he says again, quietly.

“I know.” It’s the third time in two days I’ve been told the same damn thing. And it would stick, it really would?—

If she weren’teverywhere.

Back in the office,I try to focus. Numbers. Reports. Projections. But the problem is, Parker’s voice is in my head. That soft “thank you” from Friday when I handed her a set of onboarding files. The way her lips had parted around the words. The scent she wore—some mix of citrus and vanilla that still clings to my memory like it’s paying rent to live there.

I leave my office to clear my head, and then I see her. She’s bent over her desk, reaching for something under the monitor. That skirt. That curve. That tight little breath she lets out when she stretches.

Fuck. It breaks me. I’m walking toward her before I even know I’ve moved. My brain shuts off. Instinct takes over.

She turns just as I approach, surprised. “Harrison,” she says, blinking. “Did you need?—”

“Follow me.”

That’s all I say. And to her credit, she doesn’t ask questions. Just sets down her pen and follows like I’ve flipped a switch in her spine.

I push open the supply closet door at the end of the hall. It’s empty. Dim. Stale with the scent of printer paper and toner. I lock it behind us.

We don’t speak.

My hands are on her before the door clicks shut. Not rough. Not rushed. Just—hungry. Her mouth meets mine with the kind of urgency that tells me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this. It’s not a question. It’s a confirmation. The heat between us has been boiling for days, and now it finally breaks loose like a pressure valve exploding.