Page 67 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

I stand in my doorway with a coffee in one hand and no real plan. I’ve been in meetings all morning, and all I wanted after was caffeine and ten minutes of quiet. But then I passed her desk, and now quiet feels wrong.

I take one more sip, then walk over. She doesn’t see me until I’m close. “Hey.”

She blinks, then gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Morning.”

“You’ve said fifteen words today. Want to make it twenty?”

That gets me a flicker of something—amusement, maybe—but it fades too fast. “I’m fine,” she says. “Just catching up.”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Office,” I say, tilting my head.

She hesitates. “Harrison, really, I?—”

“Parker.”

She exhales and stands, grabbing her tablet like she needs it for protection. I open the door for her, let her step inside, then close it behind us. She sits. Doesn’t fidget. That’s how I know she’s really upset—she’s too still.

I drop into the chair across from her and wait a beat before speaking. “What happened?”

She lifts one shoulder. “It’s been a week.”

“Heather’s gone.”

“I know.”

I smile. “Conduct review’s erased.”

“I know that too.”

“You’re still carrying it.”

She looks down at her hands. Her nails are painted a muted lilac. They’re perfect. She’s always polished, even when she feels like shit. “It shouldn’t have been erased.”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“I wasn’t exactly…professional.”

I stare at her. “You’ve done more for this company in six weeks than most VPs do in six months.”

She smiles, tired. “That’s not what I meant.”

I know what she meant. I just don’t want to hear her say it.

She continues anyway. “I got involved with all three of you. You gave me your time, your trust, and your…everything. I crossed a line.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “That line was bullshit.”

She looks up, startled.

“The line that says you can’t be competent and wanted at the same time,” I clarify. “That says if you get close to someone, you must be corrupt. That’s not professionalism. That’s just fear.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak.

I keep going. “You did your job. You kept us sane. You kept the gala from falling apart. You never once used any of this to your advantage. When it got hard, you took the hits.”

She swallows hard.

“And for the record?” I say. “None of us regret a second of it.”