Page 22 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

We’re being professional.

Even if it’s killing us both.

***

The evening crowd at O’Sullivan’s hums with weekend energy as I slide into our usual booth, dropping my bag with a thud that makes nearby glasses jump.

“I need a drink. Or three.”

Sophie looks up from her wine, eyebrows raised. “Let me guess. My brother’s continuing his excellent impression of a corporate robot?”

“Your brother is now emailing me from thirty feet away to avoid actual human interaction.” I signal Megan for my usual cabernet. “And he’s gutted my proposal. Everything that made it special, that made it work—gone. Replaced with corporate jargon straight from Brighton’s marketing playbook.”

Sophie winces. “That bad?”

“Worse.” I pull out my tablet, showing her the before and after versions. “This was my original section on the sustainability integration model. See how the language is accessible but specific? See how the color-coding helps clients immediately understand complex data relationships?”

“I remember. It was brilliant.”

“And this,” I swipe to the revised version, “is what your brother wants instead.”

Sophie studies it, her expression darkening. “This looks like something Garrett would write. All technical-sounding words that actually say nothing useful.”

“Exactly. And the Johnsons hate this kind of corporate speak. That’s why they responded so well to our original approach!” I take a long sip of the wine Megan delivers. “Your brother is sabotaging everything we built. All because he’s afraid the board will think he has feelings for me.”

“To be fair, he does have feelings for you,” Sophie points out. “Pretty obvious ones. To everyone except him, apparently.”

“That’s not the point.” But the confirmation that his feelings might match mine sends an unwelcome warmth through me. “The point is that he’s willing to risk losing the Johnsons to maintain this ridiculous corporate charade.”

Sophie taps her fingernails against her glass, a habit she’s had since childhood when thinking through a problem. “There’s something you should know about Lucas. About what Garrett’s been saying to him.”

“What?” I lean forward, suddenly alert.

“I overheard them yesterday.” Sophie’s voice drops. “Garrett implied that if Lucas doesn’t maintain an appropriate distance from you, the board might question every decision involving your career. Every promotion, every project assignment – they’d all be tainted with accusations of favoritism.”

The revelation hits me like a physical blow. I sit back, momentarily speechless as the pieces click into place.

“So he’s trying to protect my professional reputation?” My voice comes out smaller than intended.

“In his own misguided, emotionally constipated way, yes.” Sophie refills my glass. “Lucas has always been like this – trying to shield people he cares about, even when it hurts him. Even when it’s the wrong approach entirely.”

I stare at the wine, remembering the deleted comment about suspicious gnomes. The pride in his eyes during our presentation. The way his hand steadied me when I needed it.

“So what am I supposed to do?” I meet Sophie’s gaze. “Let him destroy my work to protect my reputation? Watch him sabotage everything that made our presentation successful just so no one thinks the big bad CEO might have feelings for his analyst?”

“You could try talking to him. Outside the office.” Sophie’s expression turns sly, a hint of the troublemaker who used to organize “accidental” study dates. “Maybe remind him that the Lucas and Emma who sweet-talked their way into that members-only library archive wouldn’t let a little bureaucracy stop them.”

I groan, dropping my head onto my arms. “I was seventeen, Soph. And we didn’t lie—we just acted like we belonged, threw around some academic jargon, and Lucas did that thing where he sounds like he’s quoting a professor. They practically waved us in.”

“My point is, you two used to find solutions together. Before all this formal distance nonsense.”

I lift my head, considering her words. “You’re right. The Lucas I know would never give up this easily. He wouldn’t let the Garrett Harrisons of the world dictate how we operate.”

“Exactly.”

“So what changed?” I muse, tracing the rim of my glass. “Why is he suddenly playing by Garrett’s rulebook instead of creating his own?”

Sophie’s expression softens. “Because he’s terrified, Em. Not just of losing Project Phoenix or the Johnson contract, but of being the reason your brilliant work gets dismissed.” She hesitates, then continues. “He watched it happen to Mom – board members attributing her marketing innovations to Dad’s influence rather than her talent. It nearly broke her.”

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