Page 17 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

I look up to find Sophie lounging in my office doorway, wearing an expression that says you’re not going to like this conversation.

“I’m reviewing the implementation timeline for tomorrow’s vote.”

“You’re staring at an upside-down report while looking like someone kicked your puppy. Right after you sent the world’s most professionally distant email to the woman who just helped save our biggest account.”

I glance down at the report and quickly flip it right-side up, feeling heat crawl up my neck. Sophie knows me too well to miss anything.

“The board—”

“Is going to vote based on the brilliant strategy you two presented today, not on whether their CEO maintains an appropriate distance from his head analyst.” She drops into a chair across from my desk. “Though I have to say, watching you try to be professional while looking at Emma like she invented sustainable energy is pretty entertaining.”

“I don’t look at her like—”

“Like she’s both the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to you? Yeah, you really do.” Sophie leans forward, her gold bracelets clicking together. “Want to tell me what happened during the presentation?”

“Nothing happened during the presentation.” I straighten the report, trying to focus on profit projections instead of the memory of Emma’s perfume. The way it had enveloped me when I leaned close to point at the charts, floral with a hint of vanilla. “We were professional.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you couldn’t keep your hands off her?”

“I was steadying her! She was nervous about—”

“Lucas.” Sophie’s voice softens. “I saw you two. The way you moved together, finished each other’s thoughts. Even the Johnsons noticed. Mrs. Johnson asked if you were engaged.”

Something in my chest tightens at her words. The last time someone had assumed we were a couple was during that summer internship at Dad’s office. Emma had spilled coffee on an executive’s shoes, and I’d kneeled to help clean it up. The executive had laughed and said, “Ah, young love.” We’d stammered denials while avoiding each other’s eyes for days afterward.

I remember how she’d whispered “thanks” with cheeks flushed pink, how I’d wanted to reach for her hand but didn’t dare.

“That’s exactly the problem,” I say, pulling myself back to the present. “The board already thinks I’m letting personal feelings influence business decisions. If they believe my judgment is compromised—”

“Then what? They’ll somehow miss how brilliant Emma is? How perfectly you balance each other? How your combined vision could revolutionize the entire industry?”

“They’ll use it against us.” I run a hand through my hair, destroying whatever professional image I have left. “Like Garrett’s trying to do. You should have heard him after the presentation, talking about ‘inappropriate workplace dynamics’ and ‘clouded judgment.’”

“And you think maintaining this ridiculous icy distance will help?” Sophie’s eyes narrow. “Because based on the texts you’ve been sending her, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

I glance at my phone, at the last message I sent:The Johnsons would be crazy not to see how amazing you are. I mean,how amazing your ideas are. Sorry. Good luck tomorrow, Ms. Hastings.

Every time I try to be purely professional with Emma, something breaks through. Some hint of what I’m really thinking, what I really want to say. Like my heart has a direct line to my fingers that bypasses all my carefully constructed barriers.

“I shouldn’t have sent that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have added that ridiculous correction. Or that ‘good luck, Ms. Hastings’ nonsense. You should have told her how you feel.”

“Sophie—”

“Tell her how watching her present makes your heart race. That you’ve been in love with her since—”

“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “You don’t understand. The board votes tomorrow. Project Phoenix could change everything—sustainable energy integration, market analytics, and the company’s future. I can’t let personal feelings jeopardize that.”

“Personal feelings are what made today’s presentation so powerful!” Sophie stands, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders and the spark in her eyes – the same expression she wore when arguing with Dad about important matters. “The Johnsons didn’t just see two executives pitching technology. They saw partners who trusted each other completely. Who make each other better. Who—”

A knock interrupts her.

Sophie falls silent as we both turn to see Garrett standing in the doorway, tablet in hand, his impeccable suit a stark contrast to the late hour.

“Mr. Walker. A word about tomorrow’s vote?” His eyes flick to Sophie. “Privately?”

She moves with all the grace of a queen dismissing a servant. “Just remember, brother dear, that Dad’s biggest regret wasn’t about business decisions.” At my confused look, she adds, “It was letting fear stop him from being happy. From letting people in.”

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