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“Never,” I whisper back, sealing the word with a kiss that tastes like forever. “I'm not going anywhere.”
BENNETT
“She told me she loves me.” I press my palms against the window, watching my breath fog the glass. Three days of pretending I know how to handle this. Three days of her making coffee like nothing changed while I'm falling apart inside.
Caleb sets down his coffee with the caution of a man disarming a bomb. “And?”
“And I didn't say it back.” I turn from the window, tugging at my tie. It feels like a noose. “It's been three days.”
“Three days of what? Awkward silence? Separate bedrooms? You sleeping on the couch like a guilty husband?”
“No.” That's what's driving me insane. “She acts like nothing happened. Makes breakfast. Steals my shirts. Falls asleep on my shoulder watching TV.” I rake a hand through my hair, destroying the careful styling. “Like she doesn't even need me to say it back.”
“Maybe she doesn't,” Caleb suggests, leaning back withthat maddening calm of his. “Maybe she just wanted you to know.”
The memory hits me again. Layla's voice in the dark, certain and soft. Not demanding. Not expecting. Just... honest.
“That's not how it works,” I insist, pacing behind my desk. “Someone says 'I love you,' you're supposed to?—”
“What? Panic? Create a spreadsheet analyzing the relationship's viability? Call an emergency meeting with your lawyer first thing in the morning?” He glances at his watch to make his point, his tone desert-dry. “You're right. That's much healthier than accepting that a woman actually loves you without wanting your credit card number first.”
“I ask you in here to talk as my friend. You?—”
Before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his sarcasm, Jenna's voice crackles through the intercom. “Mr. Mercer, Robert Carmichael is here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, but he says it's urgent.”
My coffee mug hits the desk harder than intended. Robert hasn't spoken to me since he called his daughter a whore and I told him I’d ruin him if he did it again.
“Did he say what he wants?”
“No, sir. Just that it's about Layla's future.”
My stomach drops through the floor. Caleb and I lock eyes. Nothing good ever comes from surprise visits from men whose companies you're dismantling.
“Send him in,” I say, buttoning my jacket with hands that aren't quite steady. “Caleb, stay.”
“You sure?”
“If he's here to threaten me, I want a witness. If he's here to beg, I want someone to remind me why I hate him.”
Robert enters looking like he's aged a decade in three weeks. The financial stress, the acquisition, losing Layla—it's all written in the new lines around his eyes. He carries himself with the careful dignity of a man who's lost everything but refuses to break.
“Mercer.” He nods stiffly. “Kingsley.”
“Robert.” I gesture to the chairs, not bothering to hide my suspicion. “What can I do for you?”
He sits slowly, like every joint hurts. “I need to talk about my daughter's future with the company.”
Ice floods my veins.Future.That’s something I’ve been doing my best to ignore while I focused on the now…
“Layla's contract is secure for twelve months,” I say carefully. “As we agreed.”
“And after that?” His eyes bore into mine. “What happens when the year is up and you shut down everything with the Carmichael name on it?”
I keep my expression neutral despite the guilt twisting in my gut. After twelve months, Phase Two begins. The Carmichael division gets absorbed. Positions eliminated. The ugly truth I haven't told Layla yet.
Not because I’m keeping it a secret. But simply because I don’t want to think about it.
“That depends on what the board decides,” I say, falling back on corporate speak that tastes like ash.