Page 28 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

Vanessa is wearing a slate-blue dress that clings to her like a second skin. Her wavy blond hair flutters gently in the breeze. Diamond studs, delicate wristwatch, no necklace—understated elegance designed to sayI don’t need to try. Her skin is golden, glowing. She looks like a woman who sleeps in silk and wakes up at sunrise for Pilates and fresh-pressed green juice. Because she does.

And she’s still one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever loved.

“Vanessa,” I say, taking the seat across from both of them. “What a surprise.”

She smiles. Just enough teeth to show that she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You look well.”

“I try to keep up. You seem to be doing the same. Have you moved past hacking into other people’s contracts yet, or is that still your hobby?”

Her blue eyes flash. “Still curious about how the leak got out?”

“I was told it was sabotage. Who am I to argue with internal reports?”

She sips her iced tea. “You know me. Always keeping my ears open.”

“And your eyes on my business.”

“Our business overlaps.”

“It hasn’t overlapped since we broke up.”

Mother clears her throat like we’re bickering too loudly in church. “We’re here for a civilized meal. Try not to drag your unresolved tensions into the shared bread basket.”

“I’m nothing if not civil,” I mutter, unfolding my napkin.

The waiter appears. My mother orders her usual—grilled salmon, no dressing, sparkling water with lemon. Vanessa requests the chopped salad. I order the steak. Rare. I want blood on this plate.

The conversation is minimal and grating while we wait. Vanessa talks about her newest role at Icon PR. She’s recently been promoted to VP of security strategy.

“Does that role include sending anonymous blog tips?”

She demurs, laughing softly, like she’s too classy to deny anything outright. She never admits to anything. That was always part of the appeal. And the problem. Her lips curve into the seductive smirk that killed me when we met. “A lady doesn’t blog and tell.”

“If I see any ladies, I’ll be sure to let them know.”

She excuses herself to the ladies’ room, leaving me alone with my mother and the tightening coil in my chest. Vivian sips her water, eyes fixed on the view of the golf course. “She’s doing well.”

“She cheated on me.”

“She was lonely.”

“She worked eighty-hour weeks. She always said she didn’thave timeto be lonely.”

“You weren’t present.”

“Shecheatedon me, and you invited her to lunch.”

Vivian finally turns to look at me, calm as ever. “When women cheat, Gavin, it’s because they’re not getting something they need. Emotional support. Intimacy. Attention. That’s not our fault.”

I grind my teeth. “And when men cheat?”

“It’s because theycan.There’s no thought involved. It’s just opportunity and ego. Like a dog licking themselves.”

I stare at her. “That’s your calculus on why you thought it’d be a good idea to invite my cheating ex to lunch.”

“It’s human nature. Women reach for connection. Men reach for convenience.”

“So Vanessa was entitled to cheat on me because I wasn’t emotionally available enough?”