Page 81 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“Let her sleep another hour,” I tell my assistant. “She can return the call when she wakes up.”

After my assistant leaves, Jenkins lingers, his expression uncharacteristically hesitant. “Walsh? I wonder if that’s the Judith Walsh I’m thinking of.”

“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it,” I admit.

Jenkins shrugs. “Several Walshes in the industry. Probably nothing.”

“Apparently.” I maintain a calm exterior, though my mind is racing through potential scenarios, none of which I like.

The team gradually wakes and returns freshened up from the break room’s emergency supplies—another of Emma’s organizational systems that’s proven invaluable. She’d installed “crisis preparedness kits” in every department after the sprinkler incident last year, complete with toiletries, spare clothing, and portable coffee makers. At the time, some had teased her about excessive preparation; now, nobody’s complaining.

Miles does one final check of the system while Natalie arranges breakfast for everyone. The team’s energy is rebuilding despite the all-nighter.

“Gordon Junior’s settled down,” Miles reports, scrolling through system logs. “Though he’s added a ‘mindfulness metric’ to our efficiency calculations. Surprisingly, it’s improving ourdata visualization. The adaptive engine has correlated break patterns with productivity spikes in a way traditional analytics missed.”

At seven-thirty, I gently wake Emma. She blinks those honey-brown eyes at me, momentarily disoriented. A strand of hair has escaped my tie’s makeshift hairband, falling across her face.

“What time is it?”

“Time for my brilliant girlfriend to get ready to dazzle the Johnsons.” I hand her the coffee I’ve been keeping warm. “Sophie dropped off your emergency presentation outfit in your office. Oh, and you had a call from Judith Walsh. She asked you to call back as soon as possible.”

Emma sits up, my jacket sliding to her lap as she accepts the coffee. “Judith Walsh? I don’t recognize the name.”

“She called early this morning. Seemed important.”

Emma gathers her things and heads to her office to change and return the call. I immerse myself in the presentation preparation, but my attention keeps drifting towards her office across the hall. The Gordon Junior crisis seems trivial compared to whatever conversation she might be having with Walsh.

Twenty minutes later, she appears in my doorway, her expression unreadable. She’s changed into the professional outfit Sophie brought—a tailored navy blazer and a pencil skirt. Her hair is neatly styled, with no trace of our all-night coding marathon visible except slight shadows under her eyes.

“Judith Walsh is from Goldman Sachs,” she says quietly. “She wants to meet for lunch today.”

My heart tightens, but I keep my voice casual. “Goldman Sachs?”

“Their Head of Global Operations.” Emma fidgets with her tablet, a tell that she’s nervous despite her composed exterior. “She said she has an ‘exciting opportunity’ to discuss.”

Before I can respond, Miles rushes in with last-minute updates for the Johnson presentation. As he details the changes, I notice Jenkins in the doorway, his expression shifting to recognition at the mention of Goldman Sachs.

“Walsh from Goldman Sachs,” he murmurs to me as Emma reviews the updates with Miles. “She’s building their new sustainable investment division. Known for recruiting innovative talent.”

The information intensifies the knot forming in my stomach. Walsh is renowned for identifying and recruiting top talent with unconventional approaches to traditional problems. Someone exactly like Emma.

The moment breaks, but I catch Emma’s glance—a promise to talk more later.

The Johnsons arrive precisely at nine. Emma’s fresh and poised, with no sign of our all-night crisis session except the slight smudge of ink on her hand that she somehow always manages to get. Her professional confidence is in full force as she guides them through our solution to the overnight challenge.

“As you can see,” Emma explains, walking them through the implementation data with practiced ease, “our system didn’t just handle an unexpected protocol variation—it adapted and improved. What began as a potential system failure became an opportunity for innovation.”

Mr. Johnson leans forward, intrigued. “You’re saying a rubber duck improved our sustainability tracking?”

“We’re saying your commitment to preserving workplace culture led to an unprecedented breakthrough in system adaptability.” Emma pulls up the efficiency graphs, her enthusiasm evident in every gesture. “Remember how we created that special override button for your night supervisor’s lucky duck? The virtual representation we built into thesystem began interacting with our adaptive learning module in unexpected ways.”

She advances to the next slide, showing the before-and-after visualizations.

“The Gordon Junior protocol, as we call it, started recognizing patterns in user behavior and reshaping the interface to match them. The override protocol inspired a new self-correcting backup system that could save you millions in downtime prevention.”

Mrs. Johnson, usually the more skeptical of the pair, actually laughs. “Only Walker Enterprises would turn a system crisis into a revolutionary feature. This is exactly why we chose you over Brighton’s automated solutions.”

I watch their faces as Emma explains how we turned chaos into innovation. This is Emma at her finest—taking unexpected challenges and transforming them into opportunities that nobody else could see. The thought of Goldman Sachs trying to poach her makes my stomach clench.

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