Page 18 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“Efficient,” he supplies. “Chocolate provides a quick glucose spike for focus. The green tea provides L-theanine to counteract the caffeine jitters.”
I stare at him. He’s describing a snack like it’s a bio-hack, but the gesture is… incredibly thoughtful. Ethan ordered me to eat. Asher actually brought me food.
“Why?” I ask softly.
Asher looks away, his gaze fixing on a point somewhere over my shoulder. “Ethan is riding you hard. He’s stressed about the investors. When he’s stressed, he forgets that people aren’t machines.”
“And you don’t?”
“I know people aren’t machines,” Asher says, his blue eyes snapping back to mine. “Machines are predictable. You aren’t.”
The office noise seems to fade, like someone turned the volume down. A sudden awareness of how alone we are in this corner of the office settles over me.
“You sent the text,” he says.
I freeze, my hand hovering over the brownie. “Asher, please.”
“You sent two photos,” he continues, his voice devoid of judgment, just stating facts. “The black and the red. You wanted data. You wanted a comparison.”
“I wanted my best friend’s opinion,” I whisper.
“But you got ours.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Ethan told you the red was trouble. Owen told you it would cause a riot.”
“And you?” I challenge him, feeling a sudden spark of boldness. “You told me to wear it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Asher pushes off the partition. He steps closer, looming over me in my chair. He’s not charming like Owen or imposing like Ethan. He’s just… intense. Like a live wire.
“Because the black was safe,” he says softly. “And safety doesn’t get results. You wanted to be seen, Tessa. I saw you.”
I saw you.
He holds my gaze for one second longer, long enough for me to see the heat simmering beneath the icy blue surface, and then he turns away.
“Eat the brownie,” he says over his shoulder. “I need you sharp. I’m sending you the unfiltered engagement logs. Don’t break my code. And Tessa? That data is volatile. We’re talking confessions, hidden desires, the kind of secrets that ruin lives. Treat it like live ammo.”
He walks away, disappearing into the shadows of the server room before I can say another word.
I look down at the brownie. My hands are trembling again.
Three brothers. Three completely different ways of driving me absolutely insane.
I take a bite of the brownie. It’s rich, sweet, and perfect. I have a feeling I’m going to need the sugar.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main floor, I can see the sun dipping low, painting the sky in bruised purples. But inside Ethan’s office, it looks like midnight. The cleaners are moving through the rows of desks, the vacuum humming in the distance. The blackout blinds are drawn tight, blocking out the world. The only light in the room comes from the glow of his monitors and the amber strip of LEDs along the floor.
I stand outside his door.
I’ve been putting this off for an hour. I cleaned up my inbox. I organized my desktop icons. I even watered a plant that I’m pretty sure is plastic.
But I can’t leave without reporting. He asked for the analysis of the acquisition stats. If I leave without giving it to him, he’ll think I couldn’t handle it.
And I refuse to let him win.
I smooth my hands down the front of my trousers, take a deep breath, and knock.
