Page 43 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Cost?”

I hand him our projections, fingers brushing his. Thecontact sends electricity straight to my core. “Twelve million. Conservative ROI of eight hundred million over five years.”

He scans the numbers with a concentrated furrow of his brows that makes my knees weak. “This is… doable.”

Relief floods through me like champagne bubbles.

“Logan, full technical review. Work directly with Ms. Thornton.” Audrey practically floats at the assignment. “Dr. Morgan, maintain the current timeline, and you’ll have your staff and funding.”

His eyes find mine, pinning me in place. “Ms. Carmichael. My office. One hour. Bring the go-to-market strategy.”

And just like that, it's done. No committees. No endless debates. Just decisive action that makes my pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“Understood.”

As the others scatter, I somehow end up walking beside him. His hand hovers near my lower back, not quite touching but close enough to make my skin tingle.

“That went well,” I manage.

“Strong tech.” A pause. “Your father's design?”

“The concept, yes. Audrey made it actually work.”

“Smart, keeping it quiet.”

“Frustrating,” I counter. “If you'd seen it earlier?—”

“It wasn’t working earlier.”

“But if you'd known?—”

“Wouldn’t have changed the burn rate. Or the numbers.” His eyes lock onto mine. “But since you were so eager to show it off, I assume this means you'll make the meeting on time.”

He's gone before I can blink, leaving me standing there like I've been hit by a very attractive truck.

Mercer Capital'stop floor is a temple to minimalism and money. Everything gleams—the floors, the furniture, the assistant who leads me to Bennett's corner office.

He's backlit by afternoon sun, focused on his screen with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.

“Thanks, Jenna.” He doesn't look up as she leaves.

I sit, placing my portfolio on his desk with hands that definitely aren't trembling. “The full analysis. Including every way this could explode in our faces.”

“Good.” He opens it immediately, skimming through the pages. “Where does your father stand on this?”

“He’s nervous after the recall. Wants to focus all our efforts on developing it as a surgical tool.”

“You think your father's vision for NeuraTech is too limited?”

“Not limited. Just... narrow.” I choose my words carefully. “He wants one perfect application. I see a platform that could revolutionize how humans interface with technology.”

“Ambitious.”

“Realistic. With the right partners.”

“And you'll fight for that vision?”

“I already am.”

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