Page 68 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“...and Stan showed me this brilliant shortcut for the inventory system—“ She stops mid-sentence, catching me staring. The candlelight flickers across her face, revealing a soft blush. “What?”

I reach across the table, taking her hand, my thumb tracing circles on her palm. “I was just thinking that business meetings never made my heart race like this before.”

She smiles, that special smile I’ve come to know is only for me. “Even with all those high-stakes negotiations?”

“They don’t compare.” I bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her wrist, where her pulse quickens beneath my touch. “Nothing does.”

Emma leans closer, our private world narrowing to just this table, this moment. Her free hand reaches up to straighten my tie, a gesture that’s become intimately familiar. “That night at O’Sullivan’s, when you followed me outside... did you know then?”

“That I was done pretending I didn’t love you? Yes.” The confession feels easy now, natural as breathing. “I think I’ve always known, even when I was running from it.”

Her eyes soften, holding mine in the candlelight. “We wasted so much time.”

“No.” I shake my head, lifting her hand to my cheek. “Not wasted. We needed that time to become who we are now—together.”

A quiet understanding passes between us, deeper than words. Around us, the restaurant continues its gentle hum, but we might as well be alone in the universe, caught in our gravity.

“Lucas Walker,” she whispers, leaning close enough that I can count the gold flecks in her eyes, “who would have thought you were such a romantic beneath all those spreadsheets?”

“Anyone who really knew me,” I murmur, my voice low and meant only for her. “Which was always you.”

The truth of this settles over me with comforting certainty. Even when I was trying to be the perfect corporate CEO, Emma saw through the facade to the person underneath—the one who would cross oceans just to see her smile.

“Well, well. How domestic.”

Clara’s voice cuts through our moment like ice. She stands at our table in designer perfection—a blood-red dress thatprobably costs more than most people’s monthly salary, not a hair out of place. But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, which remain calculating and cold.

“Clara.” My voice cools considerably. “We’re having a private dinner.”

“Actually, this is perfect timing. I have a proposition for you both.” She pulls up a chair uninvited, the scrape of its legs against the hardwood floor grating on my nerves. “Daddy restructured the merger offer. Full creative control of the sustainable technology division for Emma, guaranteed board positions, and...” Her smile turns sharp, predatory. “A very personal incentive for you, Lucas. Something about reuniting certain families?”

Emma’s hand tightens in mine. I feel her start to pull away, but I hold firm, refusing to let Clara’s manipulations create distance between us.

“Not interested, Clara. In any of it.”

“Really?” She examines her perfectly manicured nails with exaggerated care. “Even with Brighton’s new solar cell technology about to revolutionize the industry? Even with Daddy offering to make Emma head of global operations with triple her current salary?” She leans forward, voice dropping. “Even with the trust fund conditions your father left?”

I feel Emma go still across from me, her hand tensing in mine. “What conditions?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

“Oh.” Clara’s fake surprise wouldn’t fool a child. “He didn’t tell you? About the marriage clause? The one specifying a ‘suitable’ corporate alliance? James was quite old-fashioned about these things—so concerned about maintaining the right business connections through family ties.”

The insinuation lands exactly as she intended, creating a moment of perfect doubt. I see Emma’s expression flicker,uncertainty crossing her features as she processes this new information.

“That’s enough.” My voice comes out deadly quiet, a tone I rarely use. “You’re lying, Clara. My father eliminated those conditions years ago, and you know it. Just like you know, your father’s merger offer is a hostile takeover attempt disguised as a corporate partnership.”

“Lucas—“ Emma starts, but I’m not done.

“You want to know why I’ll never accept Brighton’s merger offer?” I meet Clara’s eyes steadily. “Because Emma didn’t just turn down a corner office and creative control. She turned down everything you represent—success without soul, profit without purpose. She believes in building something meaningful. And so do I.”

“How touching.” Clara’s voice drips disdain. “And when the board sees how your feelings are influencing business decisions? When they realize you’re risking everything on her unproven ideas?”

“My ideas work.” Emma’s voice is quiet but firm. “The Johnsons’ efficiency numbers prove it. But you know what terrifies you, Clara? That Lucas and I are stronger together. That we’re building something you can’t buy or manipulate.”

Clara’s perfect mask slips for just a moment, and I catch a glimpse of genuine anger before she composes herself.

“We’re done here.” I signal for the check, unwilling to let Clara ruin our evening further. “And Clara? Don’t try this again. The next time you spread lies about my late father or my relationship, I’ll let my lawyers handle the response.”

Clara stands, smoothing her designer dress with deliberate slowness. “Just remember, when this all falls apart, Brighton’s offer won’t last forever. The Johnsons are already weighing alternate proposals. Would be a shame if all your... hands-on research... went to waste.” Her smile is all teeth. “Especiallyafter Garrett’s dramatic departure. The board is watching more closely than you think.”

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