Page 72 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Bennett.”

“Five more minutes.”

“You're worse than a snooze button.” But she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. “Two minutes.”

“Four.”

“Three, final offer.”

“Deal.”

I make those three minutes count.

By the time she finally leaves it's nearly eight. I should feel rushed. Behind schedule. Instead, I find myself humming in the shower. Actually humming.

When I catch myself, I stop abruptly. Then laugh at my own ridiculousness and start again.

I'm still in an unusually good mood when I stride into Mercer Capital at eight-thirty. The security guard does a double-take when I nod at him.

“Morning, Mr. Mercer. Beautiful day.”

“It is, isn't it, Marcus?”

His mouth opens slightly. In three years, I've never responded to his small talk.

I'm waiting for the executive elevator when Jenna appears, tablet in hand and usual efficiency in place.

“Good morning, Mr. Mercer. The reworked Tokyo contracts are on your desk for signature. Caleb needs five minutes before the nine o'clock to review the Carmichael meeting agenda. And—” She stops, head tilting. “Are you smiling?”

“No.”

“You're definitely smiling.”

I school my features back to neutral. “We fixed a major crisis yesterday, and this latest acquisition is proceeding smoothly. That's satisfying.”

“Uh-huh.” She follows me into the elevator, studying me like I'm a bug under a microscope. “Should I cancel your usual morning workout? Since you already seem... refreshed?”

I give her a sharp look. She maintains perfect innocence.

“The nine o'clock is in the main conference room?”

“Yes, sir.” She's still watching me suspiciously. “Coffee'salready set up. I also took the liberty of having breakfast brought in since it might run long.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Jenna.”

She actually fumbles her tablet. “Did you just say thank you? Without me having to remind you about basic human courtesy?”

“I always say thank you.”

“You absolutely do not.” She recovers her tablet, swiping through screens. “Also, about the Nakamura integration. You want me coordinating directly with Mr. Cruz?”

“That's what we discussed.”

“Is that... wise?” She chooses her words carefully. “He has a certain reputation.”

“Dominic's excellent at what he does.”

“I'm sure he is.” Her professional mask doesn't slip, but something flickers in her eyes. “I just prefer to work with people who are... predictable. Structured. Mr. Cruz seems rather... intense.”

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