Page 18 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

She breezes past Garrett, pausing briefly to shoot him a look that could freeze lava before disappearing down the hall.

Dad had mentioned something similar during those last weeks when the hospital room became a place for unexpected confessions.“I was too cautious with the things that mattered,”he’d said, looking at a photo of Mom from their early days.“Don’t make my mistakes.”

“The board has concerns,” Garrett starts, but I’m barely listening. My eyes are drawn to movement in the hallway—Emma in the conference room, illuminated by her laptop screen as she works late. Her blazer is gone, replaced by what looks suspiciously like an old Walker Enterprises company picnic t-shirt. A strand of hair has escaped her bun, and my fingers itch to brush it back.

The way her forehead crinkles when she’s concentrating. How she absently taps her pencil against her lips while thinking. The small smile that appears when she solves a particularly challenging problem. I’ve been watching these same expressions for years, first across library tables, then in board meetings. They’ve always fascinated me.

Professional. I need to stay professional.

Even if it means ignoring how right Sophie is.

Even if it means denying the connection that everyone can see.

Even if it means putting corporate success above personal happiness.

Because tomorrow, the board votes on Project Phoenix. On Emma’s brilliant vision for the company’s future. On everything we’ve worked for.

“The board is particularly interested in your... relationship with Ms. Hastings,” Garrett says, settling into the chair Sophie vacated. “Today’s presentation raised some concerns about professional boundaries.”

“Ms. Hastings is an exemplary analyst whose work speaks for itself.”

“Indeed.” His smile is thin, not reaching his eyes. “Though some members wonder if personal feelings might be influencing your judgment regarding Project Phoenix.”

“The numbers—”

“Show impressive potential. But so does Brighton’s technology. And they’re offering the Johnsons something we can’t match: Stability. Predictability. A partnership uncomplicated by personal dynamics.”

My jaw clenches as I fight to maintain my composure. The insinuation that our work is somehow less valuable because of our connection makes my throat tighten with anger. Emma has poured her heart and mind into Project Phoenix. The least I can do is ensure it’s judged on its merits.

“I noticed how closely you worked during the presentation,” Garrett continues, his voice deceptively casual. “The touching. The finishing each other’s sentences. Even Mrs. Johnson commented on your obvious chemistry.”

“We maintained appropriate professional—”

“Did you?” He taps his tablet, his manicured finger hitting the screen with precise little taps. “Because I have several board members expressing concern that your romantic feelings are too prominent. That you’re elevating Emma’s plan because you want to further your relationship with her.” He leans forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Is your support for Project Phoenix based on business acumen or... other factors?”

The implication hangs heavy in the air, sulfurous and toxic. I think of Emma’s brilliant strategy, innovative approachto sustainable analytics, and passion for revolutionizing the industry. All of it potentially being dismissed because I couldn’t maintain a professional distance.

“My support is purely based on the projections and numbers,” I respond, working to keep my voice even.

Garrett studies me for a long moment, his calculating gaze assessing my reaction. “The board votes tomorrow. Project Phoenix needs a two-thirds majority. Several members are undecided.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “They’ll be watching how you handle this situation.”

I stare at him, seeing the true purpose behind his concern. This isn’t about propriety or professional standards. It’s about leverage. About finding a way to control the direction of the company by controlling me.

“I understand,” I tell Garrett, the words tasting like ash. “Professional boundaries will be maintained.”

“Excellent.” He stands, victory in every line of his posture. “Oh, and one more thing. The Johnsons specifically mentioned how well you work together. How you seem to anticipate each other’s thoughts. Make each other better.”

“And?”

“And several board members wondered if such intimate collaboration might impact your objectivity. Particularly regarding Ms. Hastings’ future role in the company.”

The threat is clear, cutting through any pretense of business concerns. If I don’t maintain an appropriate distance, they’ll question every decision involving Emma. Suspicion of personal bias will taint every promotion, every project, and every success.

I wait until Garrett leaves before pulling up my email. The cursor blinks accusingly as I type:

To: Emma Hastings

Subject: Tomorrow’s Board Meeting

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