Page 102 of Dial B for Billionaire

“No,” I whisper back, my pulse quickening as Bennett gets closer. “He was supposed to meet me at the restaurant at nine.”

Before we can say more, they arrive at our table. Bennett leans down and presses a kiss to my temple—casual, intimate, possessive. The familiar scent of his cologne makes my head spin.

“Hope we're not interrupting,” he says, though his tone suggests he doesn't particularly care if they are.

“Not at all,” I manage, trying to keep the breathlessness from my voice. “I thought you were stuck at the office until eight.”

“Meeting ended early.” His hand rests on my shoulder, warm and claiming. “Thought we'd join you for a drink before dinner. If that's acceptable.”

Bennett Mercer asking permission instead of assuming?“Of course,” I say, shooting my friends a quick glance.

Serena is studying Caleb with obvious interest, while Audrey offers a polite smile.

“Ladies,” Bennett says smoothly, “this is Caleb Kingsley, my legal counsel and oldest friend.”

“Kingsley?” Serena extends her hand with sudden interest. “You wouldn't happen to know a David Kingsley, would you?”

Caleb takes her hand, one eyebrow arching with precision. “That would be my brother. Though I should warn you—we don't share the same sunny disposition.”

“Law runs in the family then,” Serena says, not releasing his hand immediately. “I work for Luminous as their marketing director. David handles our legal department.I thought you looked familiar—you have the same intimidating eyebrow thing.”

“It's genetic,” Caleb replies dryly. “Along with an unfortunate tendency toward brutal honesty and expensive scotch.”

“Brutal honesty can be refreshing,” Serena counters, finally letting go of his hand. “Expensive scotch is just good taste.”

“Careful, Kingsley,” Bennett says with rare humor. “She might actually be able to keep up with you.”

“Doubtful,” Caleb replies, but there's something almost like interest flickering in his dark eyes. “Though I appreciate optimism in the face of impossible odds.”

Bennett signals a waiter, and soon two more chairs appear at our table. He slides in beside me, his thigh pressing against mine under the table, and I have to fight not to lean into his warmth. Caleb takes the seat across from us, his posture shifting as if settling in for a long negotiation rather than casual drinks.

“So,” Serena says once they've ordered—scotch, neat, for both men, “what brings you both to our humble girls' night?”

“A momentary reprieve from legal documents that were threatening my will to live,” Caleb says with deadpan delivery. “Bennett insisted we needed air that wasn't recycled through conference room vents.”

“That, and I wanted to see my girlfriend,” Bennett says casually, his hand finding my knee under the table.

The word hits me like a lightning bolt.Girlfriend.He says it like it's the most natural thing in the world, but my heart hammers against my ribs. This is Bennett Mercer—the man who compartmentalizes everything—casually claiming me in front of witnesses.

“Girlfriend,” Serena repeats, raising an eyebrow at me. “That's new.”

“Is it?” Bennett asks, glancing at me with that half-smile that always makes my stomach flip.

“It's the first time you've used the term out loud,” I say quietly, just for him.

His thumb strokes across my knuckles, sending sparks up my arm. “Consider it official, then.”

Oh God, I'm in so much trouble.

The waiter arrives with their drinks, creating a momentary pause. When he leaves, Audrey breaks the silence with her usual directness.

“How's the prototype diversification progressing, Mr. Mercer? Logan mentioned some promising developments in the neural mapping algorithms.”

“Please, call me Bennett,” he says, and I notice how his voice warms when he talks shop. “Logan's quite excited about the applications. He speaks very highly of your engineering contributions. Says you're the only one who understands the elegance of the code structure.”

Audrey flushes, trying to look casual and failing spectacularly. “He's been surprisingly collaborative during the transition. I expected more resistance from the Mercer technical team.”

“Logan operates under the theory that good code transcends corporate hierarchy,” Caleb says, swirling his scotch. “Legally speaking, it's a nightmare. Practically speaking, it's brilliant.”

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