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“Hey, Mercer,” Serena calls. “If you ever hurt her again, I will have both your knees broken by next week’s all-staff. Just FYI.”
Bennett's eyebrows rise at Serena's threat, but he takes it seriously. “Understood. Though I should mention Caleb asked me to pass along that he's still waiting for your response to his latest brief.”
“I'm not responding,” Serena says quickly, but her cheeks flush pink.
“Really? He seemed pretty confident you would. Something about 'Morgan never backs down from a good argument.'” Bennett's lips twitch with amusement. “He's actually rewriting the entire thing. Said your legal reasoning was 'surprisingly sound for someone in marketing.'”
“He did not say that,” Serena protests, but she's already reaching for her phone.
“Oh, he did. Along with something about being impressed by your use of precedent law.” Bennett shrugs. “He also mentioned making dinner reservations, just in case.”
Mom clears her throat. “Perhaps we should let these two get home? I believe someone has some unpacking to supervise.”
“More like directing from the comfort of his leather chair while I do all the work,” I tease, but Bennett's hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
“You would be lifting a damn finger, my love. You’ve done enough for one day. Let me take it from here.”
As I slide into the passenger seat, I catch Serena staring at her phone with that same conflicted expression.
“Hey,” I call through the open window. “Whatever you decide about Caleb, make sure it's what you want. Not what you think you should want.”
She nods, tucking her phone away. “Says the womanwho almost walked away from her perfect match because of corporate politics.”
“Exactly.” I grin. “Learn from my mistakes.”
Bennett starts the engine as Mom and Audrey pile into Serena's car.
“Think she'll text him back?” I ask.
“Caleb seems to think she will,” Bennett says, navigating through traffic toward home. “He's been insufferable since the Gala. Actually whistling in meetings.”
“Caleb whistles?”
“Apparently. Who knew?” He glances at me with amusement. “He seems to get a massive kick out her constantly rejecting him.”
I laugh. “Those two are perfect for each other. They just don't know it yet.”
“Give them time,” Bennett says, his hand finding mine on the center console. “Sometimes the best love stories start with the most resistance.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Definitely.” He lifts our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles. “Though I'd say our story is just starting.”
“And this time, we're writing it together.”
EPILOGUE — BENNETT
Six Months Later
“Mr. Mercer, we'll be landing in approximately fifteen minutes.”
I nod to the flight attendant, my attention focused on the sleeping woman beside me. Layla's head rests on my shoulder, her breathing deep and even, completely unaware that we're about to begin our descent into what I hope will be the most important day of our lives.
Six months. Half a year since she moved into the penthouse, bringing color and warmth and life to spaces that had been designed for aesthetic perfection rather than actual living. Six months of waking up to her sleepy smile, of hearing her laugh echo through rooms that had known only silence, of learning what it means to build a partnership instead of simply acquiring assets.
The transformation has been remarkable—not just personal, but professional as well. NeuraTech is now in clinical trials, advancing faster than even the mostoptimistic projections thanks to the combined resources of Mercer Capital and James Tech. The Carmichael campus still bustles with innovation, Robert having settled comfortably into his role as Chief Innovation Officer. He's even stopped glaring at me during family dinners, which Layla counts as significant progress.
My board eventually embraced the new partnership model, especially after the first quarterly numbers proved my point about the advantages of building rather than dismantling. Harris still grumbles occasionally, but with three other companies successfully transitioning to similar structures, even he can't argue with the results.