Page 62 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

I keep my head down and move toward the stairs. “Early client,” I mutter.

Blaire doesn’t even look up. “Is that one of their hoodies?”

I don’t answer. There’s no right answer. If I say yes, I’ll never hear the end of it. If I say no, they’ll know I’m lying, and I’ll still never hear the end of it. If they find out that it belongs to Miles…yeah that can’t happen.

“I mean, not judging,” she adds, which is exactly what someone says when they’re about to judge you. “Which one of the guys does it belong to?”

I don’t answer that either. I just keep walking. One step at a time. I make it to the top of the stairs and into my room.

Once the door’s shut, I press my fingers to my temples and close my eyes.

What am I actually doing? And how much longer can I live in this house? The answer is “not long.”

I grab whatever I can find in my drawers and get dressed quickly. My sports bra is inside out, and my leggings have what looks like toothpaste on the waistband. I can’t bring myself to care.

I’m about to grab my bag and head out when I feel my phone buzz.

I freeze.

Please be Harper.

It’s not Harper.

Reid: You good?

No, sir, I am not. My thumb hovers over the screen.

I can still see him at the bar with the woman who looked like she came straight from a Maxim casting call. He had his full ReidMorgan charm turned up to eleven. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t anything. But it definitelylookedreal.

I don’t know what he wants me to say.

I don’t know what I even could say. I have no room to be upset. I’m sleeping with Jude. And I slept in the same bed with Miles last night…even if all we did was sleep. And kiss. For hours.

I toss my phone in my bag and grab my water bottle from the floor. I shove the rest of my things into my bag haphazardly.

Time for another glorious day at the studio.

By mid-morning, I’ve already taught two classes and broken one of my nails trying to unjam the back storage cabinet. There’s a weird pain in my left shoulder that probably means I slept funny, and I’m ninety percent sure I forgot to put deodorant on this morning.

I’m reloading the cleaning wipes when the front door swings open. I look up just in time to see Jude entering.

He’s wearing joggers and a black t-shirt that clings in all the right places. His hair’s pulled back in that low ponytail, a few loose strands curling around his jaw. My golden god never fails to impress. It should be illegal to look this good.

My body reacts before my brain can stop it. There’s a spike of warmth low in my stomach, a sudden hitch in my breath, and I pray that my face doesn’t give me away.

He crosses the studio in a few slow steps and sets something on the desk.

It’s a protein bar. My favorite protein bar. The one that’s always sold out.

“Thought you might need this.” He gives me a lopsided smile that makes my heart stutter.

That little flutter is not the beginning of butterflies, though. Nope. It’s panic. It hits me hard and fast, a full-body wave I barely manage to swallow. He’s so kind. And beautiful. And here. And I kissed Miles last night. And let Reid finger me under the table after I had literally just had sex with Jude.

If he knew all that he wouldn’t be so kind.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter. None of this is defined. Jude and I aren’t anything, technically. There are no promises or rules. Still, I know what that look in his eyes means.

And I don’t deserve it.