Page 120 of Dial B for Billionaire

“He's good with words. It's part of his job.”

“Maybe.” She stands, gathering dishes. “Or maybe he's a man who compartmentalized because he didn't know how else to handle falling for the daughter of the man whose company he just bought out.”

“You're defending him?”

“I'm suggesting that people arecomplicated.” She rinses plates with efficient movements. “That someone can be both a ruthless businessman and a man in love. That keeping secrets isn't always the same as lying.”

“It feels the same.”

“Feelings aren't facts, darling.” She turns to face me. “Though they're valid. You have every right to be hurt. But hiding in here won't change anything.”

“I'm not ready to see him.”

“Then don't. But at least go to work. Face your life. Make decisions from a place of strength, not from under a blanket fort of self-pity.”

“Did you just call my coping mechanism a blanket fort of self-pity?”

“If the unwashed sweatshirt fits...” She grins, and suddenly I see where I get my deflection-through-humor from. “Your father called eight times yesterday. Whatever you decide about Bennett, you can't leave Robert hanging. The company needs you right now.”

“The company needs a miracle.”

“Then give them one. You're Layla Carmichael. You don't hide. You fight—even if that fight looks like the best looking severance packet you get them.”

After she leaves, I sit in my newly tidied apartment. The silence feels different now. Less like a cocoon, more like a cage.

My laptop glares at me from the desk, unopened for three days. Emails are definitely piling up. Decisions unmade. Problems unsolved. My team depending on me while I wallow.

Mom's words echo:You're doing exactly what your father did. Choosing the company over a relationship.

Except I'm not choosing anything. I'm frozen. Stuckbetween loving a man who represents everything I stand against and standing against someone who's become everything to me.

My phone buzzes again.

Bennett:

Your assistant says you're still out sick. I know that's not true. I'm worried about you.

Before I can stop myself, I type back:

me:

I’m fine.

His response is immediate:

You're not fine. Neither am I.

I stare at those three words.Neither am I. Bennett Mercer, admitting weakness. Admitting he's affected.

Me:

I can't do this right now.

Bennett:

When?

Me:

---