Page 140 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
Ethan pushes off the rack and walks over to me. He completely ignores Rule One. He ignores the cameras—which Asher already looped anyway—and reaches out to cup my face.
“I won’t let him take this from us,” Ethan vows. “I won’t let him destroy what we built.”
“So what do we do?” I whisper.
“We accept the terms and play his game, but we win.”
“How exactly do we win if we can’t even be us?” Owen asks, slumping against the far wall.
“We can be us,” Ethan says fiercely. “In the dark. In the shadows. We just can’t be us in the light, not until we generate enough capital to buy him out.”
“It creates a massive vulnerability,” Asher notes. “One slip, and we lose the company.”
“Then we make damn sure we don’t slip,” Ethan says. He looks at Owen. “I’m in.”
“I’m in,” Owen agrees, his jaw locked. “I’d rather hide than lose Mosaic.”
He looks at Asher.
“Calculated risk,” Asher nods. “Accepted.”
Ethan looks down at me. “Tessa?”
I look at my unit. My men. They’re entirely willing to sign away their freedom and live with a sword hanging over their heads just to keep the company—and to keep me.
“I’m in,” I whisper.
“Good,” Ethan says, pressing a hard kiss to my knuckles. “Now get back to your office. You’ve got a video call at one o’clock.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” Ethan says, checking his watch. “With Harper. She texted me this morning threatening to fly back and stab me if I kept you in a meeting past one.”
A fresh, icy wave of nausea rolls through my gut. “Oh god,” I groan. “I completely forgot.”
“Go,” Owen says, gently pulling me toward the door. “Put on your best innocent face. We’ll handle the contract.”
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen. The shrill ringing of the incoming video call is drilling a hole straight into my brain.
Incoming Call: Harper
I take a deep, shaky breath and check my reflection in the dark monitor. Do I look guilty? Do I look like a woman who was ravished in a broom closet three hours ago? Do I look like someone who just agreed to a fifty-million-dollar lie?
I quickly smooth my hair, force a bright smile onto my face, and click answer.
The screen instantly fills with pixelated sunshine. Harper is sitting at a bustling cafe table with a half-eaten croissant on her plate and the Eiffel Tower poking up in the background like a walking French cliché. She looks radiant, stylish, and effortlessly blonde.
“Bonjour, bitch!” she screams.
“Harper!” I smile, and for a second, it surprisingly feels real. “Look at you! You’re so ridiculously French.”
“I am, aren’t I?” She adjusts her red beret. “I’ve decided I’m never coming back. The cheese alone is totally worth the visa issues. How is Austin? Is it hot and miserable?”
I laugh, rolling my eyes at her dramatic flair. “It’s humid,” I say. “And incredibly busy. It’s quiet without you, though.”
“Is it?” She grins. “Or is it just boring? How are the boys? Are they behaving?”
“They’re working,” I say, forcing a casual shrug. “Ethan is in a mood because of the Series B funding, Owen is stressing out about user retention, and Asher is just… Asher.”
