Page 76 of Dial B for Billionaire

Our eyes meet as she takes her seat at the far end of the table. Smart. Safe. The brief connection still sends heat straight through me.

“Layla.” Robert’s voice slices through the room. “Nice of you to join us. Which side of the table are you sitting on?”

She touches his arm gently. “Dad, please. Not here.”

He jerks away from her touch, jaw clenching. Something raw flashes across her face before she smooths it away.

I clear my throat. “Shall we begin?”

For twenty minutes, we maintain the illusion of normalcy. Staffing overlaps. NeuraTech expansion. Sales restructuring. Logan and Audrey fall into an animated discussion about neural mapping that has them practically vibrating with shared excitement.

“Is Logan actually… talking to a woman?” Caleb whispers to me as Logan uses both hands to demonstrate something complex.

“Appears so.”

“And Audrey hasn’t blinked in forty-five seconds.” He tilts his head. “Should we check them for concussions?”

Across the table, Logan’s saying something about synaptic pathways that makes Audrey light up like he’s just solved world hunger. She jumps in with an addition that has him bouncing in his seat.

“Twenty bucks says they’re dating within a month,” Vicky adds in.

“I don’t bet on personal relationships.” The irony isn’t lost on me as my eyes drift to Layla. She’s worrying her lower lip between her teeth—the same lip I kissed swollen this morning.

“Bennett?”

I snap back to find Vicky smirking. “Yes?”

“I asked if you wanted to address marketing budget next. You were too busy staring at?—”

“Marketing. Absolutely.” I shuffle papers I don’t need to shuffle. “Let’s discuss?—”

“Actually,” Robert interrupts, his control finally snapping, “I have a question about these staffing projections.”

The temperature drops ten degrees.

“Of course,” I say evenly. “What concerns you?”

“Everything.” He leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “But especially your habit of making promises you can’t keep. Tell me, how many employees have you promised job security right before destroying their lives?”

His gaze flicks to my neck, lingering on the spot I know the mark shows above my collar. His jaw tightens, knuckles whitening as he grips the table edge.

“We haven’t promised anything of the sort. The entire roster is under review. Our internal memos have made that clear.”

“Dad,” Layla warns.

“Don’t.” He doesn’t even look at her. “I want numbers. How many people?”

“Every situation requires unique solutions?—”

“Bullshit.” He slams a hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Give me a number. How many families do you plan to destroy while calling it ‘efficiency’?”

I meet his stare. “Restructuring is sometimes necessary for long-term?—”

“You’re a parasite.” His face flushes darker. “A disease in a suit, and my daughter is?—”

“Dad, stop.” Layla’s voice carries warning.

“—is defending you at every turn. Rolling over for whatever scraps you throw our way.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me, Layla, what exactly are you getting out of being so… accommodating?”

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