Page 13 of Dial B for Billionaire

They harden. Steel blue gone to arctic ice in a heartbeat.

“Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Carmichael,” he says, voice smooth, professional, and unfeeling. “Weappreciate the opportunity to discuss how Mercer Capital can help Carmichael Innovations reach its full potential.”

We all sit. He takes the seat directly across from me.

Never once looks at me again.

But I feel his dismissal like a physical blow. The man who said he wanted to call me, the one who seemed genuinely interested, has been replaced by someone else entirely. Someone who looks right through me.

And suddenly I understand. I wasn't ghosted by Festival Guy.

I'm being haunted by Bennett Mercer. He knew. He had to have known. And now he’s here. To what? Finish the job?

BENNETT

Her face is the first thing I see when I walk into the boardroom.

Hazel eyes. Navy pencil skirt. Confidence wrapped in a skirt suit.

The woman from the festival.

Seated beside Robert Carmichael like she belongs there.

What the fuck?

My heart slams with a single, heavy thud against my ribs. My breath catches, and I force air into tight lungs.

Calm the fuck down, Bennett.

Instinct takes over. Years of deals, of control, of showing nothing—feeling nothing.

But for one raw second, she rocks me.

Somehow, in all my research—financials, org charts, IP audits—I missed this.

Her.

Something low and primal grunts deep down in mychest. A tug. A snap. That same jolt I felt at the festival, only sharper now.

Mine, that voice whispers. Still there. Still hungry.

Caleb steps forward, scanning the room with his usual assessment. Until he sees her. He’s brow furrows, then he cuts a glance my way.

I act as though I don’t even notice him.

Robert Carmichael clears this throat. “I'd like to introduce you all to Bennett Mercer, CEO of Mercer Capital, and his legal counsel, Caleb Kingsley.”

My gaze drifts to her.

Her eyes widen. Lips part.

Surprise?

Real or rehearsed, I can’t tell. And that alone pisses me off.

My jaw locks, the only outward sign of the storm rolling through me. Whatever I felt at that festival—whatever she made me feel—it doesn’t belong here.

“Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Carmichael,” I say, forcing my voice to hold steady. “We appreciate the opportunity to discuss how Mercer Capital can help Carmichael Innovations reach its full potential.”

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