Page 42 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“By eating takeout in your office?” I laugh. “Your standards for special have really declined.”

His expression turns serious, his eyes holding mine in the dim light. “Any day with you is special, Emma. Always has been.”

The words hang between us, simple but profound. Not poetic declarations or grandiose promises, but a truth so essential it fills my chest with warmth.

“Even when I spill coffee on quarterly reports?” I ask, voice lighter than I feel.

“Especially then.” He leans across the console, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Goodnight, Emma.”

His kiss is gentle, almost reverent, a perfect ending to our first day of this new chapter. When he pulls back, I resist the urge to chase his lips, to deepen the connection. There’s time for that. We’re not rushing anymore.

“Goodnight, Lucas,” I whisper. “See you tomorrow.”

As I walk to my apartment, I can feel him watching, making sure I get inside safely. It’s a small thing, this silent protection, but it speaks volumes about who he is and always has been—someone who notices, cares, and stays until he knows I’m safe.

Inside, I drop my bag and lean against the closed door, a smile spreading. My apartment looks the same as it did this morning—slightly chaotic, books stacked on every surface, half-finished organizational projects abandoned in corners—but everything feels different.

We are finally on the same page, ready to face whatever challenges come our way.

Together.

Chapter Fifteen

Lucas

I’ve been watching Emma through the conference room glass for the past ten minutes. The Brighton projections sit open on my desk, but my attention has wandered to how she twirls her pen when thinking hard about something. Sustainability reports surround her, transformed into organized rainbows by her signature color-coding system. The slight furrow in her brow appears when she spots patterns nobody else would notice. The way she bites her lip in concentration still makes something flutter in my chest every time she glances up and catches me staring.

Only now, instead of quickly looking away, she smiles—that soft, private smile reserved just for me—the one that makes theteam exchange knowing looks and Sophie claims vindication for her matchmaking schemes.

“You need to read those projections,” she calls through the doorway. “Not just pretend to while watching me work.”

“I’m reading.” I hold up the folder as evidence. “I’m also appreciating how beautiful my girlfriend looks when revolutionizing sustainable analytics.”

Her blush is visible even from here. We’re still getting used to saying it out loud—girlfriend, boyfriend, us. But every time we do, it feels more right.

“Professional distance, Mr. Walker,” she teases, but her eyes are warm. “What would the board say?”

“The board isn’t here.” I move to lean in the doorway, watching her arrange reports in what she calls her ‘efficiency optimization pattern.’ “Though Bradshaw did comment that our combined presentations are the most entertaining part of his week.”

“Only because you keep translating my technical terms into what you call ‘normal human speech.’”

“Someone has to explain that ‘sustainability matrix optimization’ means making things greener and cheaper.”

She throws a sticky note at me, but she’s grinning.

“Speaking of optimization, want to come over tonight? We could watch that new drama everyone’s been talking about on Netflix.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, CEO Walker?” She spins in her chair to face me.

“I’m asking my girlfriend to come over and help me critique predictable third acts. A very different thing. Besides, you’re the one who said the last movie you watched with Sophie had, and I quote, ‘the most obvious plot twist I’ve ever seen.’”

“The foreshadowing was so heavy-handed! Even the musical cues gave it away.”

She’s about to launch into what I’m sure would be a fascinating critique of modern cinematography when my phone buzzes. Garrett’s name flashes on the screen, and something in my expression must change because Emma immediately sits up straighter.

“Everything okay?” she asks, setting down her pen.

I hold up a finger as I answer the call, listening to Garrett’s clipped explanation.

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