Page 144 of Dial B for Billionaire

Bennett:

Your bossy billionaire. And yes, I'm sending professional movers whether you like it or not.

“He's sending movers,” I announce.

“Of course he is,” Serena says, momentarily distracted from her own texting situation. “Can't have his girlfriend lifting heavy boxes like a peasant.”

“I love that he takes care of me,” I admit. “Even when I don't ask him to.”

“That's what good partners do,” Mom says. “They anticipate each other's needs.”

As if to prove her point, Serena's phone buzzes again. She glances at it and actually giggles—a sound I've never heard from her in fifteen years of friendship.

“What now?” Audrey asks.

“He sent a follow-up brief titled ‘Amended Petition: Why the Defendant's Objections to Dating Opposing Counsel Are Legally Insufficient,’” she reads, trying to sound annoyed but failing completely. “With a footnotethat says 'See also: Morgan v. Kingsley, No Case Too Hard to Win.'”

“Oh my god, you're done for,” I laugh. “He's flirting in legal citations.”

“It's not flirting, it's—” She stops, reading further. “Oh. He signed it 'Respectfully yours, Caleb' with a little smiley face.”

“Respectfully yours?” Mom repeats. “That's sweet.”

“And the smiley face seals it,” Audrey adds. “He’s smitten.”

Serena stares at her phone for a long moment, then starts typing. “I'm sending him a response brief,” she announces. “Titled ‘Plaintiff's Motion for Preliminary Injunction Against Further Legal Flirtation.’”

“Are you granting or denying his petition?” I ask.

She pauses, fingers hovering over her keyboard. “I'm... taking it under advisement pending oral arguments.”

“Oral arguments?” Audrey grins. “Is that what we're calling your dinner Thursday?”

“I won’t be going to dinner on any day,” Serena mutters. “I mean, I like that he’s so persistent. And the banter is… But just…no. I couldn’t date someone so irritating.” She gives her head a shake and powers her phone down completely.

“Uh-huh.” I exchange knowing glances with Mom and Audrey.

Serena's façade of nonchalance might have worked if it weren’t for the storytelling light in her eyes and the slight quiver of her lips that broadcasts her true feelings. But if she’s not ready to admit what she wants, then I'm not going to push.

The buzzer rings, announcing the arrival of the moversBennett sent. As they begin efficiently loading my boxes onto dollies, I take one last walk through my apartment. This place was my bunker. The place I licked my wounds, rewrote strategies,dreamed. Now I'm packing it all for a penthouse and a future I couldn’t have imagined six months ago.

“Getting cold feet?” Mom asks, finding me staring out the kitchen window.

“No,” I say honestly. “Just saying goodbye to this chapter.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “The next one will be better.”

“I think so too.” I turn to her. “Thank you for talking sense into me that day. For making me see what was really important.”

“That's what mothers do,” she says simply. “We help our children find their way back to what matters.”

When the movers have loaded the last box, we head downstairs. A sleek black SUV waits at the curb, and leaning against it, looking devastatingly handsome in jeans and a casual button-down, is Bennett.

“I thought you were sending a car service,” I say as I approach.

“I changed my mind.” He pushes off the vehicle, his eyes taking me in with that intensity that still makes my heart race. “Couldn't wait to see you.”

I let him pull me into a hug, savoring the familiar heat of his body and the way his hands fit perfectly around my waist.

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