Page 129 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Please, call me Willa. And you must be Serena Morgan?” She turns to my friend with the same genuine warmth. “I've heard wonderful things about your marketing work at Luminous.”

“Thank you,” Serena says, momentarily stunned into politeness. “I'm honored to be included.”

“Nonsense. Any friend of Layla's is welcome here.” Willa loops her arm through mine with surprising familiarity. “Now, there are several people who are very eager to meet you. The work you're doing with neural interfaces has generated quite a buzz. In fact, my husband has been discussing it with some associates for most of the afternoon.”

My heart stutters. “Your husband? Landon James is interested in NeuraTech?”

“Fascinated, actually. He's been holed up with Bennett Mercer and Caleb Kingsley, exploring possibilities.” Sheleans in conspiratorially. “Something about revolutionary applications in cognitive therapy, I believe.”

Bennett. The name hits me like an electric shock, confirming what I already suspected. This isn't just about networking—it's about something much bigger.

“I wasn't aware Mr. Mercer was involved with the James Foundation,” I say carefully, scanning the room.

“Oh, Bennett's been a donor for years,” Willa says with a casual wave of her hand. “He’s around here somewhere with the boys, talking shop as usual.” Her eyes meet mine with a knowing look that makes me wonder just how much she understands about my situation with Bennett. “Men and their business. They forget there's more to life sometimes, don't they?”

“They certainly do,” I agree, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart.

As if summoned by our conversation, the crowd near the bar shifts, and there he is.

Bennett.

The sight of him hits me with physical force. He's in a perfectly tailored tuxedo that accentuates his broad shoulders, his dark hair styled with that effortless sophistication that probably took minutes to achieve. His presence commands attention, as always, but there's something different about him tonight. A tension in his posture as he nods at something Landon James is saying, but his gaze keeps scanning the room.

When his eyes find mine, the world stops.

For a moment, we just stare at each other across the crowded space, everything else fading to background noise. He looks... different. Thinner, maybe. There areshadows under his eyes, and a tightness around his mouth that speaks of sleepless nights.

He's suffering too.

The realization makes something in my chest clench painfully.

“Oh, there he is,” Willa says, stepping away from us. “Bennett!” She crosses the room toward him. “We've found your missing guest.”

I can't breathe. Bennett's eyes never leave mine as Willa approaches him, her hand touching his arm in friendly greeting. I feel Serena's fingers dig into my wrist, a silent show of support as Bennett excuses himself from Landon and makes his way toward us.

“Breathe,” she whispers. “Remember you're a goddess in this dress.”

The room seems to part for him—or maybe that's just how he moves through the world, like everything should naturally yield to his presence. All the while, I'm frozen in place, unable to retreat, unwilling to advance.

“Layla,” he says when he reaches me. “You came.”

“I received an invitation,” I reply, aiming for cool detachment despite the flutter in my chest. “Hard to refuse when it comes with a dress like this.”

His gaze travels slowly down my body, appreciative but restrained.

“You look...” He stops, swallows hard enough that I can see his throat work. “Devastating.”

“The dress was a bit much, don't you think?” I say, finding my footing in mild confrontation. “Custom couture delivered to my office?”

“Nothing is too much when it comes to you,” he replieswithout hesitation, and the raw honesty in his voice steals my practiced indignation.

Serena clears her throat beside me. “I'll just... go find… Oh! Is that Caleb?”

“Ms. Carmichael,” Caleb interrupts smoothly, though his eyes are fixed on Serena with obvious interest. “Ms. Morgan. Pleasure to see you again.”

“Counselor.” Serena's voice drips with mock formality. “Still representing sharks and other predatory species?”

“Only the ones with excellent taste in legal counsel.” He adjusts his bow tie with exaggerated pride. “And you're still...?”

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