Page 111 of Dial B for Billionaire

The request hangs between us. It's not unreasonable. Hell, it's probably smart business—Layla understands the technology better than any executive we could bring in. But it would mean fighting for her. Publicly. Making it clear that she matters to me in ways that go far beyond professional.

“I'll consider it,” I say finally, knowing I'm already planning how to make it happen. “But I can't promise anything.”

“That's all I ask.” Robert stands, looking older andmore fragile than when he walked in. “She doesn't know I'm here.”

“I figured.”

“I've tried to apologize. She won't take my calls.”

“Give her time,” I find myself saying. “She's hurt, not heartless.”

Robert's throat works. “Take care of her, Bennett. She's everything I have left.”

“I will,” I promise, meaning it more than any contract I've ever signed.

After he leaves, Caleb stays silent for a long moment. I can feel him watching me, cataloguing every tell.

“You're already planning it,” he says finally. “Actually restructuring an entire division for her.”

“I'm considering creating new opportunities that happen to align with her skills,” I correct, but even I don't believe it.

“Bullshit.” There's no heat in it, just tired certainty. “You're planning it because you're head-over-heels, completely gone for this woman. You've been in love with her since that festival, and every decision you've made since has been about her.”

The words sit between us like an indictment. Because he's right. Nothing has been the same since I met her.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth! That you're so far gone you'd fight your own board for her. That you can't imagine a future where she's not in it. That you're terrified because you've never felt this way about anyone.” Caleb leans back, studying me like a case he's trying to crack. “And I want you to admit you're an idiot for not telling her.”

My phone buzzes on the desk.

Layla:

Working late again. Don't wait up for dinner. Love you.

Love you.Like it's the easiest thing in the world to say.

“It's true,” I admit, the words scraping my throat raw. “I'm completely gone. I need her to know I'm all in. No conditions. No corporate bullshit. Just... everything.”

“Then tell her,” Caleb says. “Not just how you feel. Tell her about Phase Two. About the board's plan. All of it.”

My hands clench into fists. “She's going to hate me when she finds out I've been sitting on this.”

“Probably,” Caleb agrees, because he's a brutally honest asshole, even when it hurts. “But she'll hate you more if you keep hiding the truth.”

I check my watch. If I skip lunch and moves some things on my schedule, I’ll have three hours. Three hours to figure out how to tell the woman I love that no matter what I do, Carmichael Innovations dies and becomes Mercer Health.

Three hours to explain that I can save her job, her team, maybe even a sliver of her father's legacy. But only if I can convince the board without them turning on me.

Three hours to work out how to lay everything on the table—truth, fear, love, failure—and pray that she still chooses me anyway.

LAYLA

“And with that final revision, I think we're done.” Vicky Hammond closes her portfolio with a snap that makes me jump after four hours of the most boring budget meeting in corporate history.

“Thank you, everyone,” I say, gathering my scattered notes and trying not to look as exhausted as I feel. “The team will work these changes into our timeline.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as people rise, collecting laptops and coffee cups. Six weeks since the acquisition, and these meetings still feel awkward—two groups of people pretending to get along.

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