Chapter 4: Rules of Engagement

The afternoon sun slanted through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in a warm, honeyed glow. Josh found himself sprawled on Sarah's impossibly expensive Italian leather sofa, a glass of wine in his hand that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary. The brisket Sarah had promised was indeed slow-cooking, filling the air with rich, savory aromas that made the penthouse feel almost domestic despite its museum-like perfection.

Jean was curled up in the armchair across from him, her legs tucked beneath her, sketching in a small notebook with quick, confident strokes. She'd changed into a simple sundress that somehow managed to be both innocent and provocative, the soft fabric clinging to her curves in ways that made Josh's mouth go dry. Every few minutes, she'd glance up at him with those expressive hazel eyes, and he'd catch himself staring.

"You're being very quiet," Sarah observed, settling onto the sofa beside him with her own wine. She'd positioned herself just close enough that her bare leg brushed against his, a casual contact that felt anything but accidental.

"Just thinking," Josh replied, taking a sip of wine to buy himself time. The truth was, he'd been trying to process the surreal turn his life had taken. Twenty-four hours ago, his biggest concern had been whether to invest in that startup in Austin. Now he was sitting in his best friend's penthouse, contemplating the logistics of a three-way relationship that defied every social convention he'd grown up with.

"Dangerous habit," Sarah teased, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's got that brilliant mind of yours so occupied?"

Josh met her gaze steadily, drawing on the newfound confidence he'd discovered the night before. "I'm wondering what your endgame is here, Sarah. This isn't just about scratching an itch or fulfilling some fantasy. You don't do anything without a plan."

Sarah's laugh was rich and approving. "There's the Josh I was hoping to see. The one who built an empire by thinking three moves ahead." She leaned back against the cushions, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. "You're right, of course. I do have thoughts about how this could work."

"Of course you do," Josh said dryly. "Let me guess—you've already worked out a comprehensive set of rules and expectations."

"Actually, yes." Sarah's smile was all teeth and dangerous promise. "I believe in clear communication and defined boundaries. It prevents unnecessary drama."

Jean looked up from her sketching, her expression wary. "Sarah, we talked about this. You can't just dictate terms like you're negotiating a business deal."

"Why not?" Sarah asked, genuinely confused. "It's worked for us so far, hasn't it?"

The casual way she dismissed Jean's concerns sent a spike of irritation through Josh. He'd watched Sarah manipulate situations to her advantage their entire friendship, but seeing her do it to Jean—sweet, talented Jean who clearly adored her—awakened something protective in him.

"What did you have in mind?" Josh asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Sarah's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Well, first, discretion is paramount. What happens between us stays between us. No social media, no telling friends, no awkward encounters at dinner parties."

"Reasonable," Josh acknowledged.

"Second, this arrangement doesn't interfere with our existing relationships or careers. Jean's art, your business ventures, my gallery—those remain priorities."

"Also reasonable."

"Third," Sarah continued, her voice taking on that commanding edge he knew so well, "I maintain veto power over any potential complications. If someone develops inconvenient feelings or starts making unrealistic demands—"

"Wait." Josh set his wine glass down with more force than necessary. "Veto power?"

"It's practical," Sarah said, clearly not understanding his objection. "Someone needs to be the voice of reason if things get messy."

"And you've appointed yourself to that role?"

"Who else? You're too emotionally invested, and Jean—" Sarah glanced at her girlfriend with fond condescension, "—Jean leads with her heart. She'd let things get complicated just to avoid hurting anyone's feelings."

Josh felt his temper flare. This was vintage Sarah—assuming she knew what was best for everyone and arranging their lives accordingly. The old Josh might have accepted it with resigned good humor, but something fundamental had shifted in him.

"No," he said simply.

Sarah blinked, clearly taken aback. "No?"

"No veto power. No unilateral decision-making. No treating the rest of us like we're too stupid or emotional to have valid input." Josh stood up, needing the physical distance to maintain his composure. "If we're doing this, we're doing it as equals."

"Josh, be reasonable—"

"I am being reasonable," he cut her off, his voice gaining strength. "What's unreasonable is you assuming you can control this situation the way you've controlled everything else in our friendship."

Jean had gone very still, her pencil frozen mid-stroke. Her eyes darted between Josh and Sarah with obvious anxiety, clearly recognizing the familiar pattern of Sarah taking charge and everyone else falling in line.

"I don't control our friendship," Sarah protested, but there was uncertainty in her voice now.

"Don't you?" Josh moved to stand behind Jean's chair, his hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders. She leaned back against him instinctively, and he felt some of his anger ease at the simple trust in the gesture. "When was the last time we did something I suggested instead of something you orchestrated?"

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find an example.

"That's what I thought," Josh said quietly. "And Jean, when was the last time Sarah asked what you wanted instead of assuming she knew what was best for you?"

Jean's sharp intake of breath was answer enough. Josh felt her shoulders tense under his hands, and he rubbed gentle circles with his thumbs, offering what comfort he could.

"This isn't about blame," Josh continued, looking directly at Sarah. "It's about acknowledging that the dynamic we've had isn't going to work for this. Not if it's going to be real."

"So what are you suggesting?" Sarah asked, and for the first time since he'd known her, she sounded genuinely uncertain.

Josh moved around the chair to face both women, drawing on every negotiation skill he'd learned in building his company. "I'm suggesting we start over. All of us. No predetermined hierarchy, no assumed authority. We figure this out together, as partners."

"That sounds lovely in theory," Sarah said, some of her composure returning, "but someone needs to make decisions. Someone needs to—"

"Someone needs to listen," Josh interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Starting with you listening to what Jean actually wants instead of what you think she should want."

All eyes turned to Jean, who had gone pale under the sudden attention. She bit her lower lip—that nervous habit Josh was becoming intimately familiar with—and looked down at her sketchbook.

"I..." she began, then stopped, glancing nervously at Sarah.

"Jean," Josh said gently, crouching down beside her chair so they were at eye level. "What do you want? Not what's practical or reasonable or safe. What do you actually want?"

Jean's hazel eyes met his, and he saw a flash of something raw and honest before she looked away again. "I want to matter," she whispered. "I want my opinion to count. I want..." She took a shaky breath. "I want both of you to want me for who I am, not for what I can give you or how I fit into your plans."

The admission hung in the air like a confession. Josh felt something twist in his chest at the vulnerability in her voice, the hint of old wounds and careful defenses.

"You do matter," he said quietly. "Your art, your insights, the way you see the world—it matters. You matter."

"Josh is right," Sarah said suddenly, her voice smaller than Josh had ever heard it. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't realize..." She trailed off, looking genuinely shaken.

"This is what I'm talking about," Josh said, straightening up. "We all have things we need to work on. Sarah, you need to learn to share control. I need to stop being so passive that I let resentment build up. And Jean..." He looked at her with gentle challenge. "You need to start believing you deserve to take up space."

Jean's eyes widened, and Josh saw recognition flicker across her features. "How did you—?"

"Because I've been in the background my whole life too," Josh said simply. "I know what it looks like."

The silence that followed was different from the awkward tension of the morning. This felt more like possibility, like the moment before a storm breaks and the air finally clears.

"So," Sarah said finally, some of her natural boldness returning, "if we're restructuring this arrangement, what do you propose?"

Josh smiled, feeling a surge of the strategic thinking that had made him successful. "First, we establish ground rules together. Everyone gets input, everyone has to agree."

"Agreed," Jean said immediately, then looked surprised at her own quick response.

"Second," Josh continued, "we check in regularly. If someone's uncomfortable or wants to change something, they speak up immediately. No martyring yourself for the group dynamic."

He looked pointedly at Jean, who flushed but nodded.

"Third, this only works if we're honest about what we want. Not what we think we should want, not what seems most reasonable. What we actually want."

"And what do you want, Josh?" Sarah asked, her voice taking on that sultry quality that had been driving him crazy for years.

Josh looked between them—Sarah with her challenging green eyes and predatory grace, Jean with her artistic soul and hidden depths of passion. The answer came to him with crystal clarity.

"I want both of you," he said simply. "I want Sarah's fire and Jean's sweetness. I want to stop pretending I don't notice when you bite your lip, Jean, and I want to stop pretending I'm not affected when Sarah uses that voice on me. I want to explore what we started last night without apologies or limitations."

"Now that," Sarah purred, rising from the sofa with fluid grace, "is more like it."

She moved toward him with predatory intent, but Josh held up a hand to stop her.

"But," he continued, "I also want respect. I want partnership. And I want all of us to remember that this only works if everyone's needs matter."

Sarah's smile widened, and there was genuine admiration in her eyes now. "Look at you, making demands. I have to admit, it's incredibly attractive."

"Is it working?" Josh asked, some of his uncertainty creeping back into his voice.

"Oh yes," Jean breathed, standing up from her chair. "It's definitely working."

The late afternoon light painted them all in warm gold as they stood facing each other, the weight of new understanding and possibility hanging between them. The brisket continued to cook, filling the air with rich promise, and Josh realized he was genuinely excited to see what the evening would bring.

For the first time in his life, he wasn't just following Sarah's lead or accepting whatever scraps of attention she threw his way. He was claiming his place at the table, and judging by the heat in both women's eyes, they were more than ready to make room for him.

The rules of engagement had been established. Now it was time to see how the game would unfold.