Page 3 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

“Evening,” Jack says, his deep voice rich with exhaustion.

Gavin nods. Harrison raises a brow.

I smile weakly. “Didn’t realize this elevator had a VIP after-party.”

Jack leans against the wall. “Don’t worry, Parker. This is an express elevator. You’ll be on the ground, in the open air in no time.”

I freeze. He remembers. The cramped bar bathroom stall. Me panicking in the small space. Him laughing softly before whispering, “You like it big?” And carrying me out like I weighed nothing.

He remembers. And now he’s staring at me like he’s wondering if I remember too.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just not a fan of tiny spaces. Or unexpected upward movement.”

“Ironic,” Gavin murmurs.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Harrison presses the lobby button again. “We’ll be out in a second.”

Except we’re not.

Because the elevator shudders. And stops. Between the second and third floors.

“Seriously?” I say, heart lurching. How is the air escaping the elevator when I can’t? The lights are too dim and too bright. Is that sweat trickling down my back?

Jack pulls out his phone. “Calling security.”

Gavin sighs and checks his Rolex.

Harrison leans into the intercom. “We’re stuck. Again.”

“Sorry, guys,” says a tinny voice. “We’ve got some rolling grid outages in this part of Midtown. Could be electrical. Cameras have been blinking in and out. Sit tight—we’ll get someone there soon.”

“Define ‘soon,’” Jack growls.

The speaker crackles, then cuts off. The air feels warmer already. Closer. Absent.

And I’m stuck in a tiny box with three men I have had entirely inappropriate thoughts about for years. It’s bad enough that my heart kicks up when they’re around, but now? I traded hearts with a hummingbird, and it’s making me dizzy.

I exhale, trying to will away the panic. Not here, not now, not in front of them. Please, please?—

“You okay?” Jack asks. He glances at the other two. Harrison gives an almost imperceptible nod, but I see it because I see everything right now, including the walls closing in on us. Jack clears his throat. “Parker, are you okay?”

I nod quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re not breathing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You hate small spaces.”

“Still fine.”

He studies me. Then, before I can stop him, he steps forward and puts a hand on my elbow. “Hey.” My eyes fly to his. “Breathe.”

“Iambreathing.”