Page 81 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

When I walk back into the studio, I freeze.

Jude is there already, grinning. He looks so proud of himself. He’s crouched near the front window, peeling back packing foam from a gleaming silver frame. His eyes lift when he sees me. I’m confused for a second about how he got in here when I remember that I gave him a key.

“Surprise,” he says. “Thought your studio deserved a little upgrade.”

Before I can respond, a grunt echoes from behind me. Reid appears, dragging another box in through the door. He looks sexy as fuck with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. I love when his tattoos are on display.

I just wish I understood what’s going on here.

“This thing weighs a damn ton,” he mutters.

He sets the box down, then wipes his hands on his jeans without meeting my eyes.

The door swings open, and Miles walks in holding two coffees—my usual and something darker for him. His expressionsoftens the moment he sees me, but it turns quickly when he registers the scene. His eyes flick to Jude, then Reid, then the machine between them.

No one says anything.

The reformer is pristine. And incredibly expensive. It’s also surrounded by packing materials that someone should have cleaned up already.

“Wait,” I say slowly, glancing around. “Why are you guys setting this up? The delivery team said white glove. Aren’t they supposed to do this part?”

Jude shrugs like it’s no big deal. “They did the heavy lifting. We told them we’d take it from here.”

I frown. “Why would you do that?”

“It felt weird letting strangers finish it. Thought you might want it done your own way.”

I step closer to the reformer, skimming my fingertips along the edge. The brand label catches my eye.

“Jude…” I glance back at him. “This thing costs more than my car.”

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be top of the line.”

“No, seriously.” My voice edges up. “I can’t accept this. I don’t even know how you—how can you afford this?”

A beat of silence.

Then Reid snorts.

“Oh my god,” he says, holding a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. “You really don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

Jude is suddenly very interested in one of the straps on the reformer.

Reid’s eyes cut to mine, full of something that might be amusement or irritation—or both. “He’s a trust fund baby, Lo. He could buy this whole building tomorrow and have money left over.”

I turn to Jude. “You’re—what?”

He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is when you’ve been pretending you’re just scraping by on massage clients.”

“I never said that.”

“You never said you weren’t though.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”