Page 88 of Dial B for Billionaire

“See, this is why I stay single,” Dominic declares. “No complications. No board meetings about your love life. No trying to explain why you're suddenly making terrible business decisions because someone smiled at you.”

“Amen,” Caleb adds, clinking glasses with him. “Romance is for people who enjoy suffering.”

“You two are ridiculous,” I say, even as my phonebuzzes. My hand shoots out embarrassingly fast, hope flaring?—

Jenna:

Tonight’s situation seems fully contained. Board briefing at 8AM.

The disappointment sits heavy in my chest. When did I become the guy who checks his phone like a lovesick teenager?

“Not her?” Ronan asks quietly, too perceptive for comfort.

I shake my head, pocketing the device. “Just work.”

“At two-thirty a.m?” Dominic whistles. “Either Jenna needs a raise or you need a life.”

“Says the man who sent me spreadsheets at four AM last week,” I counter.

“That's different. I live and breathe work.” He grins. “Besides, I'm not the one mooning over missed texts.”

“I'm not mooning.”

“You literally just deflated like a punctured balloon,” Caleb observes. “It was actually painful to watch.”

“You know what?” I drain my scotch and stand. “I think we’re finished here.”

“Where are you going?” Dominic asks. “We're just getting started. I haven't even told you about the twins in Miami?—”

“I have somewhere I’d rather be,” I say, already calculating the drive to Layla's apartment.

“It's two-thirty in the morning,” Caleb points out.

“So?”

“So normal people are asleep,” Dominic adds. “You can't just show up at her door like some stalker.”

“Watch me.”

Ronan laughs, raising his glass. “There it is. The moment logic dies and instinct takes over. Good luck, Mercer.”

“Oh, you're done for,” Dominic says with delighted certainty. “Absolutely destroyed. I'm going to enjoy watching this.”

I toss cash on the table, enough to cover everyone's drinks. “Gentlemen.”

“Bennett,” Caleb calls as I head for the door. “At least text her first. Make sure she's?—”

But I'm already gone, my feet carrying me toward the elevator with a purpose I haven't felt in years. Text her? Plan it out? No. For once in my life, I'm going to do something just because I want to.

Because I need to see her. Need to know she's real and not some fever dream my organized life conjured up to torture me.

The drive takes eighteen minutes. I know because I count every one of them. This is insane. Dominic was right, I'm showing up at her door like some desperate stalker who can't go a few hours without?—

Fuck it.

I knock before logic can reassert itself. Once. Twice. Soft enough not to wake neighbors but loud enough that she'll hear if she's awake.

The door opens and my world realigns.

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