Page 141 of Dial B for Billionaire

“More than OK,” I promise, pulling her closer until there's no space between us. “We're going to be extraordinary.”

She smiles, the expression lighting up her entire face. “I like the sound of that.”

As she settles against my chest, her breathing evening out toward sleep, I marvel at the woman in my arms. The one who challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. The one who made me want to be better, to build instead of destroy.

“Layla?” I whisper into the darkness.

“Mmm?”

“Welcome home.”

Her answer is a contented sigh that speaks of new beginnings, of trust rebuilt, of a love strong enough to weather any storm.

For the first time in days—maybe years—I fall asleep completely at peace.

LAYLA

“Are you sure you need all these books?” Serena asks, hefting a box that's clearly straining her arms. “I mean, aren't e-readers a thing?”

I glance over from where I'm wrapping a framed photo in bubble wrap. “Says the woman with an entire wall of vinyl records.”

“That's different,” she huffs, setting the box down with a thud. “Vinyl has superior sound quality. Plus, it's aesthetic.”

“And physical books have a superior reading experience,” I counter. “Plus, they look great on Bennett's built-in shelves.”

The mention of his name still sends a little thrill through me, even three weeks after our reconciliation. Three weeks of waking up in his arms, of rebuilding trust, of watching him fight for a different kind of future for Carmichael Innovations.

“God, you're disgustingly happy,” Serena says,collapsing onto my increasingly empty sofa. “It's almost offensive.”

“Sorry for being in love.” I laugh, sealing another box with packing tape.

“Speaking of love,” Audrey says, emerging from my bedroom with a mischievous glint in her usually serious eyes, “didn't I hear something about you being one of the last people to leave the gala because you were too busy dancing with a certain lawyer you keep pretending you can’t stand?”

I watch with glee as Serena's face goes bright red. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Caleb Kingsley,” I clarify helpfully. “Tall, dark, expensive suit. Looks at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.”

“He does not,” Serena protests, but her voice lacks conviction. “We were just... drinking the free champagne.”

“Right,” Audrey drawls. “Because that’s what stupidly wealthy men do.”

“It’s what not especially wealthy women who don’t normally get invited to fancy galas do.”

“And yet,” I tease, “a certain stupidly wealthy man has been texting you ever since. Funny coincidence.”

“He texts his incipit thoughts to annoy me.”

“He does it because he wants to get into your pants.”

Serena throws a throw pillow my way and I dodge it with a laugh. “We're not talking about this. We're talking about you moving in with your billionaire boyfriend after the world's shortest breakup.”

“It wasn't that short,” I protest, though I know she has a point. “And it wasn't really a breakup. It was... a necessary recalibration.”

“A what now?” Audrey snorts, taping up another box. “Is that corporate speak for 'we had a fight but the makeup sex was too good to stay mad'?”

I feel my cheeks warming. “It was more involved than that.”

“Sure it was,” Serena says, her voice softening. “But seriously, Layla... I’m insanely happy for you. You deserve a happily ever after.”

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