Page 3 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“Slipped your mind?” I sputter, nearly knocking over my glass. The red wine sloshes dangerously close to the rim, threatening to add another stain to my already questionable workday ensemble. “Sophie, those reports took three weeks to compile. Two years of market trends perfectly organized to show how Walker Enterprises can position our renewable tech against Brighton Analytics. Now I have to spend the weekend reorganizing everything before Monday’s board meeting!”

“At least you recovered all the papers,” she points out, leaning back against the worn leather booth. “And from what I saw, it was quite a memorable reunion. Natalie from Research & Development said it was better than that time Rosie from HR got caught making out with the copy repair guy in the supply closet.”

I groan and let my head thunk against the wooden table, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon polish and decades of spilled beer. The evening crowd at O’Sullivan’s buzzes around us, Friday night in full swing. Someone’s playing “Sweet Caroline” on the jukebox—probably Roy, the bartender, who thinks it’s physically impossible to start a weekend without Neil Diamond.

“You know what’s worse than literally running into your new boss on his first day?” I mumble into the table.

“What?”

I lift my head, meeting Sophie’s gaze directly. “When that boss is your best friend’s brother, who you haven’t seen since...”

The balcony. His father’s retirement party. The way Lucas tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and said my market predictions were ‘brilliant’ before leaning in. Then someone burst onto the balcony with news of James’s announcement, and after that, Lucas just... vanished from my life without a word.

I take a long sip of wine before continuing. “And he still has no idea I keep his old Silver Springs High baseball jersey hidden inmy dresser drawer between my sustainability journals and that playlist called ‘Songs That Remind Me of Summer 2022.’”

Sophie’s eyes light up. “That old jersey!”

She reaches for her wine, nearly knocking over the basket of pretzels. “The same one you wore while crying through that documentary about baby polar bears?”

“That old jersey has seen me through one broken relationship, two failed startup pitches, and that time I stress-ate an entire pint of rocky road while finishing my market prediction algorithm.” I fiddle with my napkin. “It’s practically a good luck charm at this point.”

“Along with that ridiculous penguin, he won you at the county fair senior year?” Sophie grins. “The one currently guarding your winter sweater collection?”

“Waddles is a very responsible guardian.” I take another sip of wine, trying to ignore the way my cheeks heat up. “And he’s not the point. The point is, I have exactly two days to reorganize those reports into something that will convince Harrison Garrett I’m not just the klutzy analyst he’s been trying to replace with his nephew from Harvard Business School.”

“Please.” Sophie waves dismissively. “You single-handedly predicted the market shift that saved our solar panel division last quarter. Dad called you his secret weapon in board meetings.” Her voice softens. “Right up until the end.”

The mention of their father sobers us both. James Walker had been more than just my boss—he’d been a mentor, pushing me to look beyond traditional market analysis to spot patterns nobody noticed. Even during his final months, he’d insisted on weekly updates about my renewable energy forecasts.

“Remember when he called me into his office last spring?” I ask quietly.

“When you thought you were getting fired?”

“After that disaster with the quarterly projections.” I nod. “When I tripped over the projector cord and sent coffee flying across the boardroom table.”

“Classic Emma.” Sophie smiles fondly.

“But instead of firing me, he showed me the competitors’ analysis of the same data. They had completely missed the pattern in the eco-consumer segment that I’d identified.” I trace a pattern on the table with my finger. “That’s when he told me to start developing what would become Project Phoenix—our comprehensive plan to restructure Walker’s approach to renewable technology integration.”

I remember James’s words clearly: “Don’t just follow the market, Emma. Reshape it. That’s how Walker Enterprises will thrive when Lucas takes over.”

I look up at Sophie. “Lucas has no idea what he’s walking into. Your dad wasn’t dealing with a board that’s actively hoping for failure. Garrett’s gathered a coalition of old-guard members who think the company needs ‘traditional leadership.’ They’re going to use every mistake to prove he’s not ready.”

“And you know this because...?”

“I’ve been tracking their voting patterns.” I pull out my phone and open a spreadsheet I’ve practically memorized. “See these clusters? I’ve mapped their connections, investments, and public statements about the company’s direction. Every time your dad proposed innovation in renewable energy, this same group opposed it.” I tap the screen, highlighting a pattern. “They’re positioning for a hostile takeover disguised as a ‘return to traditional values.’”

Sophie’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise. “Does Lucas know about this?”

“How could he? He’s been in New York, building his own success story. He doesn’t know that Garrett’s been quietly buying up shares through shell companies, or that three boardmembers coincidentally invested in our biggest competitor last quarter.” I pause, remembering how he’d handled the morning’s chaos with unexpected poise. “Though that patent application comment was surprisingly strategic.”

“Almost like he’s been doing his homework.” Sophie signals Megan for another round. “You’re not the only one who knows how to analyze data, Em. Lucas became the youngest senior partner at Matthews & Sterling by turning around failing energy companies. He specializes in identifying corporate sabotage.”

This makes me sit up straighter. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. And he specifically asked for your market analysis reports last week. All of them, going back to when he left.” She grins at my shocked expression. “What? You think he just happened to know about that patent application? He’s been studying Walker Enterprises’ position for months.”

My phone pings with a new email notification. I glance down, then freeze when I see the sender and subject line.

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