Page 15 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

“Because it’s incredible,” I counter, taking another sip of wine. “Have you ever tried my coffee? I’m extremely proud of our beans—I source them from the Bahia region of Brazil. They’re the best you can get.”

“I’m sure I’ve had it at some point,” she admits, “but it’s been ages. Each time I’ve tried coffee, I end up hating it more, so I’ve just given up.”

“Then consider it a fresh start,” I say with a warm smile. “I’ll be sending a bag over to your house tomorrow.”

She tilts her head in contemplation. “I don’t actually have a coffee machine, so a bag of beans isn’t very useful to me. But I really do appreciate the gesture.”

I make a note to bring her a freshly brewed cup of Emerald City coffee soon.

After finishing the last of her wine, Tess sets her glass down carefully. “I’ve got to run. I have an early lesson on Oliver tomorrow.”

“How’s the beast doing?” I asked jokingly but with genuine interest.

Her expression softens into a gentle smile. “He’s a perfect gentleman at the barn—a world away from the show craziness. No bucking, no bolting, not even a hint of trying to run over someone.”

“I had a little chat with him last weekend about his behavior at shows. When I was cooling him out after your class. I think you’ll notice a change in him moving forward.” I can barely keep a straight face.

“I certainly hope so. That reckless stunt last nearly got me kicked out of the show. Someone needs to talk some sense into him. Lord knows I’ve tried.” She’s holding back laughter.

“I know you need to run. Let’s talk soon about these weddings—the dates, the locations, and any details you need to know.”

“Sounds good. Do you have my number?” she asks, her tone casual.

“Of course,” I reply. “I must have gotten it from Jane at some point.”

“Alright then. Just let me know what works for you. I’m pretty flexible right now—especially since I’m not even sure I’ll be going back to work.”

I see a flicker of panic in her eyes, though I can tell she’s trying to mask it. I resolved then and there that I will keep my promise to get her a new job, no matter what it takes.

“What does this number for business travel include? It’s higher than it should be, Charles.”

My stomach sinks as I see my dad’s steely gaze scrutinizing every expense. His knack for unearthing even the smallest irregularities is legendary.

Dad and I are going over the quarterly profit and loss sheet today, and I should have anticipated his hawk-like eye zeroing in on the inflated figures.

“It’s the cost of traveling to South America three times a year, Bill,” I explain, trying to keep my tone even and nonchalant.

But he continues to push. “This number is still too high. What other trips are you slapping on as business travel? How about those trips to Hawaii or Fiji?”

I take a slow breath before clarifying, “The trip to Hawaii was business-related. I went there to meet a guy who’s pioneering some innovative ideas—ideas that have already proven quite profitable for him. We’d been in discussions over the past year, and it just made sense to meet him in person.”

“That may be, Charles,” he interjects sharply, “but how long did that meeting take?”

“He gave me a tour of his facility, and then we spent some time discussing a couple of new processes,” I explain, trying to sound as factual as possible.

“And how long did that conversation last?” he presses on, his tone unyielding.

“About a day,” I admit, accepting defeat at this point.

“And how long was your overall stay in Hawaii?”

I hesitate before replying, “Around five days, I believe.”

He leans in, his eyes narrowing. “And how much of that trip did you bill to the company?”

I swallow hard. “I wrote off the whole trip.. You can’t just fly to Hawaii and back in a day—you need time to recover from travel.”

“Hawaii isn’t that far,” he counters coolly. “You could have allocated just one day on either end. And I know your so-called ‘travel recovery’ routine all too well—it usually involves lounging poolside, drinking premium alcohol.”

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