Page 9 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

I feel Lucas tense slightly, probably preparing to intervene, but this is my moment. The question Garrett’s really asking is: Why should we trust someone who can’t even keep her coffee upright?

I take a deep breath, channeling the confidence James Walker had always seen in me. The same confidence I catch glimpses of in Lucas’s eyes.

“I’ve spent the last two years not just analyzing the Johnsons’ data but understanding their sustainability goals. I know their green energy initiatives, carbon reduction targets, and environmental impact objectives.” I meet Garrett’s gaze steadily. “I’ve been working directly with our tech team on Project Phoenix’s sustainable analytics framework.”

I straighten my shoulders, remembering every late night, every spreadsheet, every pattern I’d discovered that others had missed. “And most importantly? I believe in what we’re building here. Not just for Walker Enterprises or the Johnsons, but for the future of sustainable business practices.”

The boardroom falls silent. Even Garrett seems to be considering my words. I can feel Lucas watching me, and when I glance his way, the pride in his eyes makes my heart skip.

“The board votes tomorrow,” the chairwoman announces, tapping her pen decisively against her notepad. “And assuming approval, you’ll present to the Johnsons on Wednesday. Ms. Hastings, commendable work. Though perhaps next time—“ her sharp eyes flick to the rescued coffee cup, ”—we stick to bottled water during presentations.”

As the board files out, I gather my materials, my hands tingling slightly from leftover adrenaline. We did it. ProjectPhoenix is one step closer to reality. Now we just have to convince the Johnsons that our vision for sustainable technology is worth betting on.

“That was brilliant.” Lucas’s voice is quiet beside me. “The coffee save metaphor? Perfect.”

“Pure luck,” I admit, trying to ignore how my skin warms when he helps me collect my papers. The brush of his fingers against mine sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with professional boundaries. “Though having a CEO with quick reflexes helps.”

“I’ll always catch you, Emma.” The words seem to slip out before he can stop them. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I see past the CEO mask to the boy who used to believe in me before anyone else did. The one who spent three hours helping me rebuild my presentation after a computer crash the night before finals. The one who said my “crazy ideas about sustainability metrics” would change the industry someday.

Garrett clears his throat from the doorway, and the moment shatters.

“The Johnsons are confirmed for Wednesday, 9 AM,” he announces. “Assuming tomorrow’s vote goes your way.” His eyes flick meaningfully to the coffee cup. “And Ms. Hastings? Perhaps stick to tea until then.”

I wait until he’s gone before letting out a shaky breath. “Well, that was terrifying.”

“You were amazing,” Lucas says quietly. “They see it now—what Dad saw in you. What I’ve always seen.”

The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. For a moment, I’m back on that balcony two years ago, the night air cool against my skin, Lucas’s hand warm as it brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You see patterns no one else notices,” he’d said then. “It’s kind of remarkable.”

But before I can respond, his assistant appears with an urgent call from the tech division.

I head back to my office, my mind already racing with the next steps. Tomorrow, the board will decide whether we can present Project Phoenix to the Johnsons. We have to convince them that our approach to sustainable technology isn’t just innovative but worth betting their company’s future on.

I place my notes carefully on my desk, next to the framed sticky note James Walker had given me after my first successful market prediction. “Sometimes chaos creates the best patterns,” he’d written. His son had obviously inherited that perspective, along with those quick reflexes that had just saved my presentation.

And if my heart won’t stop replaying the way Lucas said he’d always catch me? Well, that’s just professional appreciation for good crisis management.

Even if it feels like something more.

Something real.

Chapter Five

Lucas

The sun hasn’t yet risen, but I’m already in my office, studying the family photos on the wall. My father’s stern face dominates the centerpiece—an image from the company’s twenty-fifth anniversary gala. In it, he’s shaking hands with Jeremy Johnson Sr., both men beaming over the sustainable energy contract that transformed Walker Enterprises from a regional player into an industry leader.

I step closer to the photo, noticing details I’ve overlooked before. The pride in Dad’s eyes isn’t just about the contract. It’s about what it represented. The handshake captured there wasn’t just business; it was two men who believed they could build something that would last beyond their lifetimes. Something their children might someday lead together.

Now, twenty years later, I’m fighting to keep that vision alive while Jeremy Jr. weighs Brighton’s offer.

I loosen my tie, already feeling strangled despite the early hour. Yesterday’s board meeting about Project Phoenix went well—too well, apparently. The vote was supposed to be today, followed by tomorrow’s Johnson presentation. But Brighton Analytics has raised the stakes by offering the Johnsons exclusive access to SolarTech’s new solar cell technology. We’re not just fighting to keep a $50 million client—we’re fighting to stay relevant in a rapidly evolving industry.

Instead of focusing on the eight different ways this could all fall apart, I spent half the night thinking about Emma’s presentation yesterday. How she transformed a potential disaster with the coffee cup into a perfect metaphor for our strategy. The confidence in her voice when she faced down Garrett’s skepticism proved she wasn’t just the brilliant but chaotic analyst he expected to fail.

Professional. I need to stay professional.

My phone buzzes—another email from Garrett with his “concerns” about Emma’s strategy. He’s sent fifteen similar messages since yesterday’s meeting, each questioning a different aspect of the plan. The latest one suggests that perhaps someone with “more experience” should lead Wednesday’s presentation to the Johnsons. Someone like his nephew Jamie, fresh from Harvard Business School, who interned at Brighton Analytics last summer.

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