Page 133
Story: Dial B for Billionaire
“Yes. Here. Tonight.” I nod toward where Landon and Willa are deep in conversation with several other guests. “The partnership documents are upstairs in Landon's suite. We've been working on them non-stop—Caleb, Landon's team, financial projections that actually preserve what matters to you.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for deception, for the catch. “You're serious.”
“Dead serious. Landon wants to create a medical technology division focused on accessibility. Your NeuraTech would be the flagship program.”
“And my father?”
“Would head the research division. Full autonomy over development. His name stays on everything.” I pause, letting that sink in. “It's not charity, Layla. It's smart business. But it's also the right thing to do.”
She pulls back slightly, and for a terrifying moment I think she's going to walk away. Instead, she studies my face with that analytical intensity I've missed so much.
“Show me,” she breathes.
Those two words hit harder than any deal I've ever closed. Because this isn't about money or power anymore.
This is about proving I can love something more than I love winning.
Starting tonight.
LAYLA
My body betrays me the moment his fingers lace with mine. Five days of righteous anger melt like ice cream in August. What I thought was resolve crumbles beneath the weight of truth—he really did change everything.
“This way,” Bennett says, guiding me through the crowd with the confidence of a man who's found his answer. The confidence I first fell for that night at the street festival, before acquisitions and betrayals complicated everything.
I scan the ballroom for Serena and spot her near one of the ice sculptures, deep in conversation with Caleb. When she catches my eye, she raises an eyebrow in silent question. I give her a small nod to let her know I'm OK, and she returns it with a subtle thumbs-up.
Bennett signals subtly to Caleb, who immediately straightens. He says something to Serena that makes her laugh before reluctantly excusing himself. The look of disappointment that flashes across Serena's face is so briefI almost miss it—especially surprising for someone who insists she can't stand the man. Caleb gives her a formal nod that somehow manages to be both stiff and promising before making his way toward us, straightening his bow tie as he approaches.
“Everything's prepared upstairs,” he informs Bennett as he falls into step beside us.
“Perfect. We won't be long,” Bennett replies, his hand still firmly clasping mine.
Caleb's eyes shift to me, his typical aloofness softening slightly. “Ms. Carmichael. Glad to see you’re onboard.”
“You are?” I can't help the edge in my voice. “Given you probably drafted the original Phase Two documents?”
“I draft what I'm told to draft,” he says, unruffled. “And I redraft when priorities change.” Something almost like approval flickers in his dark eyes. “Priorities have changed significantly.”
Before I can respond, Bennett tugs gently at my hand. “We should go. Landon's waiting.”
We approach where Landon and Willa James stand conversing with a small group. I study them with new interest. Landon's stature matches his reputation: commanding yet approachable. Willa stands beside him in a crimson gown that is absolutely stunning on her curves, but her smile holds genuine warmth.
“Bennett,” Landon greets as we approach. “And this must be the brilliant Ms. Carmichael I've heard so much about.”
“Layla, please,” I say, extending my hand. His handshake is firm but not domineering.
“It's a pleasure to finally meet the driving force behindNeuraTech,” he says. “Bennett's explanation barely did your vision justice.”
“Thank you,” I reply, still processing that this tech titan knows about my project. “I understand you have an interest in its medical applications.”
“More than interest,” Willa interjects. “Obsession might be the better word. Landon's been following your father's research for years.”
“Which reminds me,” Landon says, checking his watch. “We should continue this upstairs. I believe everyone's waiting.”
“Everyone?” I glance at Bennett, who simply squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“Just a few key people for the partnership discussion,” he says. “If you're ready to see what we've been working on.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for deception, for the catch. “You're serious.”
“Dead serious. Landon wants to create a medical technology division focused on accessibility. Your NeuraTech would be the flagship program.”
“And my father?”
“Would head the research division. Full autonomy over development. His name stays on everything.” I pause, letting that sink in. “It's not charity, Layla. It's smart business. But it's also the right thing to do.”
She pulls back slightly, and for a terrifying moment I think she's going to walk away. Instead, she studies my face with that analytical intensity I've missed so much.
“Show me,” she breathes.
Those two words hit harder than any deal I've ever closed. Because this isn't about money or power anymore.
This is about proving I can love something more than I love winning.
Starting tonight.
LAYLA
My body betrays me the moment his fingers lace with mine. Five days of righteous anger melt like ice cream in August. What I thought was resolve crumbles beneath the weight of truth—he really did change everything.
“This way,” Bennett says, guiding me through the crowd with the confidence of a man who's found his answer. The confidence I first fell for that night at the street festival, before acquisitions and betrayals complicated everything.
I scan the ballroom for Serena and spot her near one of the ice sculptures, deep in conversation with Caleb. When she catches my eye, she raises an eyebrow in silent question. I give her a small nod to let her know I'm OK, and she returns it with a subtle thumbs-up.
Bennett signals subtly to Caleb, who immediately straightens. He says something to Serena that makes her laugh before reluctantly excusing himself. The look of disappointment that flashes across Serena's face is so briefI almost miss it—especially surprising for someone who insists she can't stand the man. Caleb gives her a formal nod that somehow manages to be both stiff and promising before making his way toward us, straightening his bow tie as he approaches.
“Everything's prepared upstairs,” he informs Bennett as he falls into step beside us.
“Perfect. We won't be long,” Bennett replies, his hand still firmly clasping mine.
Caleb's eyes shift to me, his typical aloofness softening slightly. “Ms. Carmichael. Glad to see you’re onboard.”
“You are?” I can't help the edge in my voice. “Given you probably drafted the original Phase Two documents?”
“I draft what I'm told to draft,” he says, unruffled. “And I redraft when priorities change.” Something almost like approval flickers in his dark eyes. “Priorities have changed significantly.”
Before I can respond, Bennett tugs gently at my hand. “We should go. Landon's waiting.”
We approach where Landon and Willa James stand conversing with a small group. I study them with new interest. Landon's stature matches his reputation: commanding yet approachable. Willa stands beside him in a crimson gown that is absolutely stunning on her curves, but her smile holds genuine warmth.
“Bennett,” Landon greets as we approach. “And this must be the brilliant Ms. Carmichael I've heard so much about.”
“Layla, please,” I say, extending my hand. His handshake is firm but not domineering.
“It's a pleasure to finally meet the driving force behindNeuraTech,” he says. “Bennett's explanation barely did your vision justice.”
“Thank you,” I reply, still processing that this tech titan knows about my project. “I understand you have an interest in its medical applications.”
“More than interest,” Willa interjects. “Obsession might be the better word. Landon's been following your father's research for years.”
“Which reminds me,” Landon says, checking his watch. “We should continue this upstairs. I believe everyone's waiting.”
“Everyone?” I glance at Bennett, who simply squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“Just a few key people for the partnership discussion,” he says. “If you're ready to see what we've been working on.”
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