Page 106 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“Fuck,” I breathe out.
“Where is she?” Ethan demands, his voice cracking like a whip. “Did she leave the building?”
“Her terminal is logged off,” Asher says, tapping the screen. “GPS triangulation puts her phone at her apartment. Her heart rate monitor indicates extreme physical exertion and elevated stress levels. She is likely packing.”
I start moving toward the door. “I’m going.”
“Owen,” Ethan warns, his voice sharp. “Wait.”
“I’m not waiting for a board meeting!” I snap, grabbing my jacket from the rack. “She paid you off, Ethan! She’s packing to leave Austin! Are you coming, or are you going to sit here and let Vance win?”
Ethan stands there, his hands clenched at his sides. He looks paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the line we are about to cross.
“We have to go together,” Asher says, stepping up beside me. He looks at Ethan, his usual calm cracking just enough to show the urgency underneath. “It’s the only way the numbers work, Ethan. A unified front will triple our odds. I’m ready.”
Ethan looks at the two of us. His brothers. His partners. And now… his co-conspirators.
He lets out a breath—a sharp, frustrated sound. He walks to the coat rack. He grabs his jacket, but he doesn’t put it on immediately. He grips it like a weapon.
“Fine,” Ethan growls.
He looks at me. The conflict is still there, burning in his gray eyes, but the resolve is stronger.
“We go,” Ethan says. “But we do this carefully. We don’t corner her. We don’t scare her.”
“We’re going to ask her to sleep with all three of us, Ethan,” I say softly, opening the door. “I think we’re past ‘careful.’”
Ethan clenches his jaw. He puts on his jacket, the movement sharp and angry.
“Just drive,” he orders.
18
TESSA
My apartment looks like a war zone.
Cardboard boxes are everywhere. I took a half-day after the argument in Ethan’s office. I claimed I needed to finalize the press kits remotely, but the truth is, the moment I got the PDF from Markus Vance, I couldn’t breathe in that building anymore.
So I came home, and I started manically packing my life into garbage bags. I raided the recycling bin out back for anything I could find.
I am not leaving Austin today. I promised I would finish the launch on Saturday. But the moment the clock strikes midnight, I need to be ready to run.
My clothes are bagged. My books are in stacks.
Barnaby sits on top of the highest box, judging me.
“I know,” I tell the cat, wiping sweat from my forehead. “It’s undignified. But we have to go.”
I can’t stay here. Not with the memories. Not with Asher’s scent still on my sheets.
I signed the Nebula offer an hour ago.
Markus sent a same-day expedited wire. The money is in my account.
I initiated the wire transfer to Ethan’s corporate account instantly. I sent the email to Ethan five minutes ago. No text, not even an explanation.
Nothing.
