Page 16 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
A ripple of laughter goes through the room.
A woman with bright blue hair and a nose ring spins her chair around. “Finally. Does this mean we can stop using ‘Synergy’ in our press releases? I die a little inside every time I type it.”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Synergy is banned. So is ‘paradigm shift’ and ‘disruptor.’”
The woman grins. “I like her. She can stay.”
“That’s Sarah,” Owen murmurs in my ear. His breath tickles my neck, giving me goosebumps. “Lead Designer. She hates everything, so if she likes you, you’re golden.”
I step slightly away from him, trying to put a professional distance between us. “Nice to meet you, Sarah. I’d love to see the new wireframes later.”
“Anytime.”
Owen guides me deeper into the room. He introduces me to the team—Mark in coding, Jen in QA, David in copy. He’s charming, effortless. He remembers everyone’s name, asks about their weekend, jokes about their coffee habits.
It’s easy to see why he’s the face of the company—at least to the people on the payroll. To the rest of the world, he’s a ghost, but in this room, he’s the sun. Ethan provides the structure, Asher provides the genius, but Owen provides the energy. He makes people feel seen.
“They love you,” I observe as we walk toward the back of the room, where a wall of windows overlooks the river.
“They tolerate me because I sign the expense reports,” Owen shrugs, leaning against the glass. He crosses his ankles, studying me. The playful grin fades slightly, replaced by something warmer, more serious. “You’re good at this, you know.”
“Good at what? Walking?”
“Fitting in,” Owen says. “Most corporate hires come down here and look at the creative team like they’re zoo animals. You jumped right in. You speak their language.”
“I am a creative, Owen. Just because I wear a blazer doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use Adobe.”
“True.” His gaze drops, sweeping over my cream blouse and navy trousers. “Though I have to admit, I miss the red dress.”
My heart stammers. I look around quickly to make sure no one heard him. The team is back to work, headphones on. We’re isolated in this corner by the window.
“Owen,” I whisper. “Stop.”
“What?” He widens his eyes innocently. “It was a nice dress. The kind of dress that starts wars.”
“It was a mistake,” I say, my voice low. “A huge, embarrassing mistake. And Ethan made it very clear this morning that he’s strictly my boss, nothing else. We aren’t talking about it.”
“Ethan isn’t here,” Owen says. He takes a step closer, invading my personal space again. “And I never agreed to anything. I liked it. And I liked the question.”
“You shouldn’t,” I argue, though my pulse is betraying me. “I’m your employee. I’m your sister’s best friend.”
“I know,” Owen sighs, looking genuinely torn. He reaches out, his fingers hovering near my elbow before he drops his hand. “Believe me, I know. That’s the only reason I’m not asking you what you’re doing for dinner.”
“I’m working late,” I say quickly. “I have retention reports to finish.”
“Of course you do.” He shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “You’re just like Ethan. You think you can solve everything with work.”
“It’s better than solving it with… whatever this is.”
“This,” Owen says softly, “is chemistry, Tess. And you can’t PR your way out of it.”
He stares at me for another second, his green eyes dark and searching. Then, he pushes off the glass, the mask of the charming boss sliding back into place.
“Come on,” he says brightly. “Let’s go check the server room. It’s Asher’s cave. If we’re lucky, he won’t hiss at us.”
By the time I get back to my desk, my brain is fried.
The tour was exhaustive. Owen showed me everything, from the marketing archives to the rooftop terrace. We even checked the server room, but Asher wasn’t there—Owen joked that he was probably absorbing data through osmosis somewhere else. He’d been a shadow in the corner of my vision all day, but he hadn’t so much as acknowledged my presence. I still haven’t officially met the third Phantom.
