My Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend

by Monroe, Max

  And even knowing that, I’d do it all over again. It’s all too much—the sweet smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, the absolutely perfect sensation of her lips under mine—and when it comes to her, I fear I’d do just about anything, rational thought be damned.

  Get it together, you bastard.

  As Sam drops me at my building and I close myself into the solitude of my office, my neuroses over my best friend’s little sister become acutely more obvious. For the love of God, if I’m going to get anything done today, I need to shut down that section of my brain completely.

  I glance down at my semi-hard cock and scold him too. Absolutely no more running through that kiss for the rest of the workday! I wouldn’t call his response compliant, but I push onward anyway.

  Yes. I can do this. I can just think about work.

  I glance at the clock on my desktop computer and see I have another thirty minutes before I need to be in the conference room to discuss the accounting discrepancy with Emily and ten other employees of the finance team.

  I resign myself to my fate of catching up on late emails, but I only get through ten messages before my phone starts to ring. A FaceTime request from Cap.

  Oh, here we go…

  Normally, I might be surprised to hear from him so early on a Saturday. But after our encounter last night, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Caplin Hawkins is a shitstirrer of epic proportions, and I know from way too much experience, he isn’t going away if I ignore him.

  Not after seeing me with Evan’s sister.

  On a sigh, I accept the call on my desktop, and his big ole fucking head fills the screen. He’s looking down and tapping out something, and before I know it, Thatcher Kelly is there too, smiling back at me.

  Fucking hell. It’s the whole goon squad.

  “Oh man! Is that the office I see behind you?” Cap exclaims. “And here I thought you might’ve come to your senses and learned that Saturdays are meant for relaxing.”

  “I told you he’d be in the office,” Thatch chimes in. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

  “You two are so cute, bickering like an old married couple. Is your anniversary coming up? I’ll have my assistant send a gift,” I retort.

  Cap gives me the finger, and Thatch, the crazy giant, smiles. “Like Cassie would share all of this—” He runs his hands down his body in a horrendous display of eroticism. “With just anyone. She needs a twelve-inch, trick-performing, light-saber-powerful cock to even consider it.”

  Cap laughs hysterically, and I cover my eyes. Dear God, “To what do I owe this horrible occasion of video-chatting with you?”

  Cap’s laugh turns to wolflike. “Well, I was having a nice Saturday chat with Thatch and telling him how I saw you last night at Daphne Ares’s party…”

  My pulse races in my throat as I gear up for the shit I know is coming.

  “And needless to say, we both decided it was the perfect time to call and catch up with the devil himself.”

  Thatch nods. “And here we thought you’d all but given up on having a social life.”

  “Yeah, buddy,” Cap adds with an annoying smirk. “What’s going on? Mind clueing us in on what changed your old-man ways?”

  Old man. That’s the second time I’ve heard that in the past twenty-four hours, and of course, the sheer mention of it makes me think about Maybe and our kiss…again.

  My chest tightens with the unease of a man who knows he’s in the wrong, but Thatch keeps right on talking as though there isn’t a vise closing in on me every second. “Is it the summer air? A new diet? Or, maybe, just maybe, the motherfluffing girl I knew you were already lusting after!”

  “All right, you assholes. No need to spell it out any further,” I respond on a heavy sigh. Having to deal with my conscience is bad enough. Being interrogated by Thing 1 and Thing 2 is just plain cruel. “I thought you’d shaken your Gossip Girl addiction, Cap.”

  No doubt he’s spent the early part of his morning gabbing like a damn drama queen.

  “Now, now, there’s no need to bring Gossip Girl into this,” he snaps. “If I hear you talking bad about my girls Blair and Serena, consider our friendship over.”

  I roll my eyes and Thatch chuckles.

  “I’m a Vampire Diaries man myself,” Thatch comments insanely. “But let’s not stray from the important shit.”

  “You’re right, dude.” Cap nods. “And the important shit is that our good friend Milo here is playing with fucking fire.”

  “I am not playing with fire.”

  I am. I most certainly am. But sometimes denial is just a hell of a lot easier than facing reality head on.

  “You’re so full of shit, and we all know it.” Cap eyes me shrewdly. “You, the man who loathes socialite parties, were at one. Last night. With a girl who just so happens to be our good buddy’s little sister.”

  I start to open my mouth to try to explain, but apparently, he hasn’t hit his fucking word count for the conversation yet.

  “Wait. I forgot to add the most important detail of all,” he rambles. “Our good buddy’s off-limits little sister.”

  Son of a bitch. His words shouldn’t bother me, but they do.

  Guilt had already found its way into my veins this morning. Now, that infection feels so pungent, I fear I’ll go septic.

  “We’re just friends,” I deny with a thick tongue. “She asked me to go to that party with her last night, so I did what any good friend would do. I met her there.”

  “Oh, okay,” Thatch responds. “You met her at the party. Nothing more. Nothing less, right?”

  “Right.”

  Thatch snorts. “Yeah, okay. And Cassie’s the Virgin Mary.”

  The word virgin lands in my head like an arrow. God, what a fucking mess I’ve gotten myself into.

  “Don’t forget that you spent the whole night standing out on the balcony with her, drinking and laughing it up like you were the only two lovebirds at the shindig.”

  “Lovebirds!” Thatch whoops wildly.

  I might kill Cap. Surely, no one would miss him, right?

  “Or that you drove her home,” Cap continues. “Can’t forget that either.”

  “It’s nice to know that you were so invested in my whereabouts last night,” I deflect. “I know you get upset when I don’t give you all of my attention, sweetheart, but there’s no need to stalk me.”

  Cap grins. “I can’t deny I’m still pissed at you for not taking me to lunch, but that is not the subject at hand, brother. But, hey, two points for your efforts in deflection.”

  An annoyed laugh escapes my lungs. “What do you want me to say? Evan asked me to help Maybe get a few interviews with publishing houses in the city. Which I’ve been doing. And yes, I’m friends with her. I went to a party with her. I took her home. Pretty sure we’ve covered it all.”

  “Wait…” Thatch chimes in. “How long have you been helping her with the whole career thing?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “A few weeks.”

  “More like over a month,” Cap kindly offers, the prick.

  “Does it really matter?”

  “I knew there was something different about you when I saw you at the gym!” Thatch smiles like a fucking loon. “Goddamn, I’m good.”

  “You saw him at the gym?” Cap asks, and Thatch nods.

  “Damn right, I did. The Supercock could tell something was different. It was pinging all over the place.”

  “Not sure I like the thought of your dick having feelings about me.”

  Thatch ignores me and booms on. “And now, it’s safe to say that Little Miss Maybe was the reason.”

  “Damn, you two could turn anything into something,” I grumble. “It’s a true talent.”

  They both laugh like what I said is the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever heard.

  “All right, honey,” Cap says. “It’s pretty obvious you’re not ready to dish the dirt, but just know, when you’re ready, when you’ve officially li
t yourself on fire and are up shit creek without a goddamn paddle because you’ve fallen for your best friend’s little sister, we’ll be here. Ready to listen.”

  Fallen for my best friend’s little sister? Now they’re really talking crazy.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that, you denying bastard.

  I roll my eyes. “That’s mighty generous of you, but I can already guarantee that’s not going to happen.”

  Are you sure? You’re already feeling things for her that are anything but friendly…or by Maybe’s definition, very friendly.

  I shake off my slightly terrifying thoughts and redirect the conversation. “So, is there any other reason you girls called me, or can I get back to work and try to get out of here before I waste my entire Saturday in the office?”

  “You’re really keeping it close to the vest, eh?” Thatch smirks. “Ah, well, can’t say I blame you. Cap showed me a picture of Maybe, and I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

  I quirk a brow. “Do the same thing?”

  “Yep.” He nods. “I’d light myself on fucking fire too. I’m certain there isn’t a single guy in New York who could resist those big, innocent brown eyes of hers.”

  “Thatcher Kelly!” a female’s voice screeches in the background. “I can fluffing hear you!”

  It takes exactly one second for me to know that voice belongs to his wife, Cassie.

  “Ah, calm down, honey,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m just talking in hypotheticals. You know your glorious tits are the only tits I want in my big fucking hands.”

  “Tits! Tits!” a small child’s voice chimes in behind him. “I like tits!”

  “Gunnar don’t repeat what Daddio says, little buddy.”

  “Fluffing hell, Thatcher!” Cassie exclaims. “I swear to God, if I find out he’s walking around day care saying ‘I like tits,’ I’m going to kill you!”

  The Kelly household, ladies and gentlemen.

  “Ah, hell,” Thatch sighs. “I better get off here before Cass loses her shit.”

  Both Cap and I grin at each other on the screen. Thatch’s zoo means that for once in this conversation, I’m not the main attraction.

  I don’t wait for another opportunity to end the call and escape. This one is as good as it’s going to get.

  I hit the end button, and both of their big heads give way to blackness on the screen. The breath of relief that leaves my lungs is immediate.

  Thank fuck.

  Before I can let their disturbingly perceptive words sink in, I glance at the clock and see my time is up. I need to head into the conference room for the meeting with the finance team.

  I head out of my office, and after a quick pit stop in the break room, I step into the conference room a few minutes later with a much-needed coffee in my hands.

  “Good morning, everyone,” I greet all eleven people sitting around the table. “Thanks for spending your Saturday trying to fix this issue. I appreciate the dedication.”

  “No problem, Mr. Ives.” Emily nods. “Shall we get started?”

  I gesture toward her and take a seat at the head of the table. “By all means, the sooner we get through this, the sooner all of you can get back to your families and actually enjoy your weekend.”

  Get back to your families. I don’t know why those words make my chest ache, but I swallow it down and choose to revisit that a different time. It’s more than apparent that my idiot friends have truly fucked with my head.

  Thankfully, Emily dives right in, pulling up our current accounting numbers on her laptop and projecting them onto the big screen at the foot of the table. “Okay, so, initially, I wasn’t sure where we went wrong. But, good news, after scouring the numbers for the past few hours, I think I’ve figured out the issue. If you all just give me about fifteen minutes to explain what I’ve found, I think we can get this sorted out quickly.”

  “Fantastic,” I say, and she offers a grateful smile.

  I’m not sure if she expected me to be on a tirade over the discrepancy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Emily Willow over the past three years, it’s that she is thorough as fuck, and if there’s an issue, her numbers-oriented brain and eagle eyes will locate it.

  I have nothing but admiration and respect for her as an employee.

  She continues to lead the meeting, showing the final numbers from last quarter and comparing them with the projected numbers of this quarter.

  So far, so good. What she shows makes sense.

  And, it’s apparent by the nodding heads and reassuring comments, the rest of the table agrees.

  Just as she directs a few questions toward her colleague Mark Wallace, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  I take a sip from my cup and discreetly pull my phone out to check my messages.

  Maybe: I think I want to try DP.

  I nearly choke on my coffee.

  What in the hell?

  In the middle of an important meeting or not, I think my brain will explode if I don’t respond.

  Me: Uh…no, you don’t.

  And, in true Maybe fashion, she doesn’t hesitate to keep this insane conversation going.

  Maybe: I’ve been told it’s the most intense sexual experience a girl can have. Why wouldn’t I want to try it?

  Holy hell. Where is this coming from?

  Me: You’ve been told? Where are you getting this advice, exactly?

  Maybe: I heard two girls talking about it at Starbucks.

  I bite my lip to prevent my laughter.

  Cap’s crazy sister Lena, I could understand. But Starbucks? Of all the fucking places.

  Me: You heard people talking about DP and decided that’s the next step for you, all while you were ordering coffee?

  Maybe: Yes.

  Me: You were at Starbucks, just picking up a cup a joe to start your day, and you decided right then, DP is the next thing you want to do?

  Maybe: Yes! Why do you keep asking me things I’ve already told you?

  I bite my lip and type again.

  Me: Maybe, do you have any idea what DP is?

  Maybe: Uh…an intense sexual experience. Duh.

  I grin. Jesus, why is she so adorable?

  Me: Let me rephrase. Do you know what DP stands for?

  Maybe: Double Pleasure.

  A laugh escapes my throat, and everyone sitting at the conference table turns their eyes toward me.

  “Sorry,” I mutter and nod toward Emily. “Please, continue.”

  She gets back to the meeting, and I discreetly type out another text message to Maybe.

  Me: Double Penetration.

  Maybe: Huh?

  Me: That’s what DP stands for. Double Penetration.

  Maybe: I don’t get it.

  Me: In most cases, it requires three people, two of whom have dicks.

  When she doesn’t respond, I keep going.

  Me: Two men.

  Me: One woman.

  Me: Two cocks.

  It’s not until that final text that she chimes back into the conversation.

  Maybe: IT’S THAT???

  Me: Yes, it’s that.

  Maybe: Oh my God. I thought it was like two orgasms or something! I’ve never been penetrated by one penis, much less two at the same time! Gah!

  Me: Sounds like you’re changing your tune on DP…

  Maybe: Have you ever done it?

  Jesus. This not at all where I want this conversation to go.

  I’d much prefer to keep my wild and crazy past just that. In the damn past.

  So, I do my best to change the subject.

  Me: What are your plans tonight?

  Maybe: OH MY GOD. YOU HAVE DONE IT

  Me: How about Tuesday night? Do you want to grab some dinner Tuesday night?

  Maybe: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE DONE IT.

  Me: Personally, I’m in the mood for Mexican.

  Maybe: Do you DP often???

  Fucking hell. She’s relentless.

  Me: I’m
not much of a threesome kind of guy, Maybe.

  Maybe: What’s that supposed to mean?

  Me: It means, when I’m with a woman, I’m selfish. I like to have her all to myself. Plus, I’m not a twenty-one-year-old bastard anymore who looks at sex like it’s some kind of challenge to try anything and everything. It was a one-time experience when I was a wild college kid. And not one I want to repeat. It’s just not my style.

  Maybe: OMG you did it in college. PLEASE GOD DO NOT TELL ME THE SECOND COCK WAS MY BROTHER’S

  Me: That sentence is disturbing on so many levels. But no, Evan and I didn’t make a porno version of Three’s Company.

  Maybe: THANK GOD. I thought I was going to have to give up food for the day.

  Me: LOL You’re safe.

  Maybe: If threesomes aren’t your style, then what is?

  Back to the sex. Just when I thought I’d escaped at least somewhat unscathed. Still, I can’t help but answer her honestly.

  Me: Thorough. Sex for me isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon. I like to take my time. Explore. Savor it. And I don’t like to fucking share.

  Maybe: Are you sexting me right now?

  Me: HAHA. Nice one. And no, you asked, and I’m nothing if not honest.

  Maybe: Well, your honesty is…well… Anyway… So, about that dinner?

  Hmm…I’m far too intrigued by her sudden change in tune.

  Me: Are you aroused right now, kid?

  No response.

  Me: Shall I change the subject to dinner?