Page 42 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Twice as good! Although, to be honest, I might be running mostly on adrenaline and cold brew at this point.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Anyway, I triple-checked the data. I'm as confident as a person who hasn't slept in seventy-two hours can be.”

That does get me excited. I feel lighter than I have in weeks, or maybe just more hopeful. If we can get this demo running for Bennett and his team, maybe we can change the narrative. Maybe we can buy more time.

The lab smells like electronics and anxiety when we arrive. Audrey rushes straight over to the prototype, making microscopic adjustments while, Emily—the R&D director—arranges documentation with military precision.

“Tracking system still holding?” Audrey mutters without looking up.

“It’s a miracle, but yes,” Emily confirms. Her hair’s up in a wildly crooked bun and she’s got three pens jammed behind her ear, but her hands don’t shake at all.

“Good. This needs to be flawless.” I straighten already-straight chairs because my hands need something to do. “We really need to impress these Mercer guys.”

“From what I’ve seen, one of them isclearlyimpressed with you.” Audrey glances up, her knowing smile making me want to hide.

“What’s going on?” Emily looks between us, her interest immediately piqued.

“Nothing,” I quickly answer before Audrey’s grin can turn wicked. “She’s exaggerating. Their team was just… engaged during the integration talk.”

“Oh, OK.” She puts her head back down and I shoot Audrey a warning glare. She just giggles and returns to the prototype just as the lab door opens. Logan shuffles in first, nose buried in his tablet like it contains the secrets of the universe. Bennett and Caleb follow, and my ovaries practically stage a revolt.

Charcoal dress pants. Rolled sleeves. That little throat-clearing thing he does when he's focused.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

“Ms. Carmichael.” His voice is all business, but I swear his eyes linger on my lips for a fraction of a second. “Thank you for arranging this.”

“Of course.” I gesture to my colleagues, trying not to notice how his cologne makes me want to climb him like a tree. “Dr. Emily Morgan, R&D Director, and Audrey Thornton, lead engineer.”

Logan heads straight for Audrey, and they immediately start speaking in tongues—something about neural pathways and algorithmic responses. Caleb watches closely, cataloging everything.

Bennett moves closer. Close enough that I can feel theheat radiating off his body. My nipples tighten traitorously under my blouse.

“This is the market disruptor you mentioned during our first meeting.” His breath ghosts over my ear.

“It is.” I force my voice steady.

“I thought it was five months away from clinical,” he says, very quietly, just for me.

“It was. Audrey and Emily compressed the timeline.”

His gaze flicks to me, sharp enough to cut. “With what resources?”

I shrug, keeping my eyes on the bustling engineers a few feet away. “Mostly human sacrifice. Some sleep deprivation. And a lot of creative borrowing from old projects.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Approval? Attraction? The urge to bang me against the nearest wall?

Stop it, Layla.

Emily claps her hands. “Let's begin!”

For twenty minutes, she guides them through the neural interface while Audrey demonstrates on a mannequin. The prototype translates tiny movements into surgical precision that makes Logan practically vibrate with excitement.

“This isn't just medical!” He's actually bouncing on his toes. “Think robotics, remote surgery, space applications?—”

“That's the dream,” Audrey says, glowing under his enthusiasm.

“Timeline?” Bennett cuts in, all business again.

“With proper funding and enough staff? Three months.”

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