Page 130 of Better When Shared
She waved him off. "Nonexistent. I had them all destroyed after graduation. Professional liability."
Her hand landed on my forearm as she laughed, fingers curling around my wrist in a casual intimacy that made my pulse jump. When had she lost that careful corporate distance, that invisible force field of professionalism that kept everyone at arm's length? Yesterday at the beach, maybe?
"Are you always like this? On the inside?" I snapped my mouth shut, wishing I hadn’t blurted that out.
Her head tilted, eyes narrowing. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Relaxed. Fun. Human."
Brian made a choking sound into his wine glass. Gemma regarded me with those sharp eyes, something unreadable flickering across her features.
"The hotel business doesn't generally reward women who appear... accessible."
"Their loss. You're pretty fucking magnificent when you let your guard down."
I was suddenly hyperaware of the way her hand still rested on my arm, the heat of her palm burning through my shirt.
The smile that spread across her face was small but genuine, a flash of vulnerability that made my chest ache. Brian was watching us both, his expression thoughtful in a way that made me wonder what he was seeing, what calculations that brilliant, ordered mind was making.
"Lunch?" he suggested, breaking the moment. "I read about a place near the central market that's supposed to be incredible."
Gemma stood, smoothing down her dress with hands that weren't quite steady. The wine had definitely affected her, softening her edges in a way that made her seem younger, less burdened by worry.
As we stepped back into the sunlight, I caught Brian watching Gemma with the same intensity I'd been feeling, his gaze lingering on the sway of her hips as she walked ahead of us. When he turned and caught me staring at him, something hot and knowing flashed in his eyes before he looked away.
Fuck. I was crushing on both of them. Hard. And I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Chapter 7
Enzo
Valencia, Spain
After lunch—a blur of paella and enough wine that Gemma's cheeks were permanently flushed—we wandered into one of Valencia's older districts, where the streets narrowed to cobblestone pathways barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Shadows fell cool and deep between ancient buildings, the stone walls around us worn smooth by centuries of hands and weather. My shoulder kept brushing against Brian's as we navigated the tight space, each accidental touch sending sparks skittering across my skin like I was some fucking teenager with his first crush.
Gemma walked ahead, her white sundress catching occasional shafts of sunlight that broke through the tall buildings. The wine had transformed her, stripping away the corporate armor to reveal a woman who laughed freely and swayed with each step. When she suddenly stopped at a tiny courtyard, turning toface us with a mischievous smile, something inside me clenched tight.
"Brian," she said, her voice carrying that wine-loose quality that made everything sound like a confession, "I've been wondering something."
He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the ancient stone wall with casual grace. "Dangerous words from someone three glasses in."
"Jake mentioned once that you're pansexual." She said it without preamble, the direct approach of someone too tipsy for social niceties. "Is that true?"
I froze, my gaze snapping to Brian's face.
Brian didn't even flinch. "Yes," he said simply. "I am."
The casual confirmation hit me like a physical blow. Something about his easy confidence, the way he owned his sexuality without apology or explanation, made heat pool low in my stomach. I'd always suspected that Brian was into guys too, but suddenly the knowledge felt electric, charged with possibilities I'd been too afraid to consider.
"Fascinating.” Gemma assessed us with that sharp intelligence that alcohol couldn't quite dull. "Enzo's bisexual too, you know. He told me yesterday."
My face burned hot enough to melt stone. "Jesus Christ, Gemma."
"What?" She shrugged, utterly unapologetic. "It's not a secret, is it? You said so yourself."
"Not a secret," I muttered, "but also not something I announce to random passersby in foreign countries."
"We're hardly random." Brian’s eyes were laser-focused on my face. "And you're deflecting."
