12. Ruin the Friendship #3
The smug glances between Sienna and Avery don’t go unnoticed.
I don’t care for mean-girl antics and fake niceties—the way everything feels like a game.
I stay a little longer, pretending to nibble on a raspberry tart, until Sienna makes a not-so-subtle mention of Alex’s new movie. Her smile is saccharine.
That’s my cue.
I shoot Riley a look. She catches it immediately and gives a small nod.
I excuse myself with a polite smile, mumble something about needing water, and slip back into the house. I wander aimlessly until I find a quiet room tucked just off the corridor—dark wood, high shelves, the air holding a hush like it’s been waiting to offer someone a little refuge.
The library.
And I’m not alone.
Because there he stands—drink in hand, staring out the window like a goddamn sculpture.
Broderick.
“Fancy running into you here,” I say, watching him take a slow sip.
I step into the room, the door clicking shut behind me.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he teases, eyes meeting mine over the rim of his glass.
I cross my arms, arch a brow. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, baby—this is just a happy coincidence.”
We stand there for a long second. The kind where the silence hums with everything unsaid. Tension thick enough to slice through.
Then he sets his glass down and steps toward me.
“You look…” His voice drops, gaze dragging down my body like a slow spill of heat. “Nice.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I murmur, though my voice is already breathless.
“Will it get me here?” he asks, smirking as he backs me up to the desk.
His hands slide to my hips, lifting me onto the edge like it’s instinct. My dress hikes up as I wrap my legs around him, and I can’t remember what behave even means.
I should stop him.
But then his hand brushes bare skin, and his mouth hovers just above mine—and every ounce of sense slips right through my fingers.
“Broderick,” I whisper, my hands sliding up his chest.
“Yeah?” His voice is rough, dark with need.
“We shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
I’m not. Not even close.
“Brody,” I breathe his name like a prayer, already pulling him closer.
Then his mouth is on mine—and I’m gone.
I kiss him like I haven’t spent all morning aching for his taste. His hands grip my waist, holding me tight as I cling, greedy for more.
I wrap my legs around him, dress bunched up between us, lips pressing harder into his. Broderick’s fingers tangle in my hair just as—
“Elena, I saw you come in here—WHAT. THE. FUCK?”
A sharp voice slices through the air.
We still.
Philippa.
Not again.
Broderick’s the first to move, lifting me off the table like we’re two teenagers caught making out in the back of study hall. Which, technically, we are.
“Are you two seriously fucking each other?” she hisses, eyes wide.
I fear I may have pushed her too far.
“Define fucking?” Broderick says, smirking in that charming, cocky, completely unhelpful way he does.
Philippa throws up a hand, cutting him off without even looking at him.
“Broderick Ethan Schwartz,” she snaps, voice high and tight, practically vibrating with rage. “Can I please have a moment alone with my Maid of Dishonor?”
Dishonor. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Broderick lets out a low whistle, shaking his head.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dipping his head in a mock bow before sauntering out of the library as if he hadn’t just been caught with his hands all over me.
The door clicks shut behind him.
Philippa exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Elena,” she says again, quieter now—but no less furious.
I don’t answer. Honestly, what is there to say?
This was supposed to be casual. Secret. Easy. I curse myself for being so reckless—we should have had more restraint, especially during this week. Especially being surrounded by everyone.
Instead, we tempted fate like two fucking horny idiots.
Philippa paces a few steps across the library before turning to face me, arms folded tight across her chest.
“I thought you were supportive of Broderick and I,” I say trying for a light-hearted approach.
“And I thought you weren’t interested?” she quips back her voice sharp.
Touché.
“Elena…look, I’m not trying to be a bitch—” She exhales hard, like the words won’t settle. “After everything that happened with Alex…are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I’m fine.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Are you? Because I’m not sure jumping into bed with Broderick is the solution.”
“It’s not like that.” My voice uncertain. Broderick was fulfilling a need. Nothing more. I think.
Her brow arches. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”
I sigh, sinking into one of the leather armchairs, so tired I could melt.
“Pip…we’re both consenting adults. We’re just…” I shrug, aiming for casual. “Having some fun.”
Her expression doesn’t shift. Her eyes stay on mine, scanning my face like she can see every part I’m not saying out loud.
“And he’s on board with this…idea of fun?” she asks gently, tone somewhere between cautious and concerned.
I nod. But even I can feel the hesitation dragging behind it. “Yeah. He knows what this is. We both do.”
She’s quiet for a beat.
“Elena…Andrew and I love him. You know that, right? He’s one of my closest friends. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. And I really don’t want to be put in a position where I have to pick sides.”
The words land heavier than I expect. Still, I force a smile. “You won’t have to.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“Look…this—whatever it is—it’s just something I need right now.
For me. Outside the chaos of my career, this family, everything.
” My voice cracks slightly. “I want something that’s mine.
Something that makes me feel…less lonely.
And would you rather I do this with some random stranger?
Someone who’ll turn around and sell a story to the tabloids about how Mortimer Montgomery’s wayward daughter is spiraling again? ”
Philippa’s expression softens. Her shoulders finally relax.
“I trust Broderick, he’s my friend too.”
But even as I say it, something tightens inside me. The ache blooms in my chest.
Were we still just friends? Or was I already lying—to her, to him, to myself?
I brush those thoughts away.
Philippa eases down onto the edge of the chair across from me, eyes steady.
“I get it,” she says finally. “I do. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken again. You put on this front like you’re fine, but I know you’re not. The stuff with Alex—it still affects you.”
“It does, but I can’t switch my heart off…and Broderick—he makes me feel better.”
Even if only for a little while.
She reaches out, squeezes my hand. “Please don’t hurt each other.”
I don’t answer.
Because I’m not sure I can promise that.
And with three rules already broken, this arrangement teeters on the edge.
When we leave the library, Broderick’s waiting—leaning casually against the wall like he hadn’t just been kicked out mid-grope.
Philippa sighs dramatically, folding her arms as she eyes him. “Still here, Brody? Don’t you have another bridesmaid to bother?” Her voice holds just enough teasing warmth to soften the sharpness, but her gaze pins him firmly.
“Nope, this one is my favorite.” He shrugs, flashing that playful grin, and Philippa rolls her eyes before turning back to me.
“We’re going horseback riding.”
“No, thank you,” I say, too sweetly.
I’d rather ride something else.
Philippa raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it. “Fine. Behave—both of you, I’ll see you later.” She shoots Broderick one more pointed glance before walking away.
I nod, watching her walk off, perfectly put-together.
Once she’s gone, Broderick and I let out matching sighs.
“Come,” I say softly.