10. Bennett
BENNETT
“ I t’s done,” Caleb says from the doorway. “Carmichael’s board accepted the offer.”
He delivers it like he’s announcing the weather, not the win we’ve been engineering for months.
I nod, eyes still on the quarterly projections. “Good. Start the integration process immediately. I want a full team assembled by?—”
“Already done.” He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Meeting's set for two. Initial team is you, me, Vicky from operations, and Jenna to coordinate.”
“Add Logan,” I say, finally looking up. “We’ll need someone to evaluate their technical assets. I need an understanding of the prototype that got mentioned during our pitch.”
“Ah, the ‘market disruptor’ your tractor beam brought up. Neuro-something, I think it was called.”
I don’t rise to the bait. Just flip to the next tab in the projections like my pulse didn’t just kick at the mention of her. Even secondhand, her name hits harder than it should .
“Yes. NeuraTech.” I lean back. “Robert’s moonshot. We need to know where they are with it.”
“And by ‘they’ you mean the engineers?” Caleb settles into the chair across from me and looks directly at the thick report spread across my desk. “Or the COO you’ve been obsessing over? What even is this?”
I glance down at Jenna's twenty-three-page background analysis on Layla Carmichael. “The report Jenna put together about her. Due diligence.”
“Due diligence.” He leans forward, scanning the top page. “All this research for just one person? I've seen your background checks on Fortune 500 CEOs that were half this detailed.”
“She's involved in every part of the operations. Looking into her background was just smart strategy.”
“She heads a mid-sized medical device company.” His lawyer eyes are sharp now. “But whatever you need to tell yourself. Did you manage to find what you were looking for?”
Every fact in that report confirms what I already knew on Saturday night. That she's exactly who she claims to be. No hidden agendas. No corporate espionage connections. Just a brilliant woman trying to do a job while her father was less than truthful about the state of the company.
“Nothing alarming,” I say.
“Amazing!” Caleb tilts his head. “So no reason she can’t stay on to help smooth the handover. Unless there’s another issue you’re not disclosing? Maybe something that happened on the weekend?”
I keep my expression neutral. “The Tokyo deal finalized as expected. Dominic’s and my call with them went well, and they accepted our terms. ”
“I meant the other thing that happened over the weekend. You know, when I stepped away for five minutes and came back to find you two engaged in what looked suspiciously like vertical foreplay on the dance floor.”
My jaw tightens. “We danced. It's what people do at bars.”
“Right. And I'm sure the way you had her backed against the bar afterward was just a 'business consultation.'” His tone is dry as dust. “Really professional behavior.”
“We’ve already been over this. We cleared up a misunderstanding. That's all.”
“And now you’re so clear, I hear you've been almost human this week. Jenna mentioned you actually said 'please' when asking for coffee yesterday.”
I consider deflecting. But he's my oldest friend, and the only person who might understand why I've spent the last four days replaying every moment of Saturday night.
“The wrong number,” I say finally. “It wasn't fake. She accidentally gave me her mother's.”
Caleb blinks. “Her mother's? As in...”
“As in she transposed two digits. Their numbers are nearly identical.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then lets out a low whistle. “Well. That changes things.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I close my laptop with more force than necessary. “The acquisition proceeds as planned.”
“Obviously,” he says. “I meant it changes things between you and her.”
“There is no me and her.”
“Not yet.”
I give him a sharp look. “Not ever. She's the COO of a company we're acquiring. Her role overlaps with Vicky's. She’ll be one of the first?—”
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up there. Let me get all of this straight in my head—you find out she didn’t play you, she’s great at her job, and yet, you’ve decided you’re cutting her anyway? What the hell, Bennett?”
The words are like a finger poking my chest.
Her role overlaps with Vicky’s. Standard practice would be to keep them both during the handover, give it a month or two, then phase one out.
But the thought of sitting across from her for the next two months…
knowing what she feels like pressed against me…
knowing I’ll have to fire her anyway… knowing more time will make it that much harder to want nothing, to feel nothing like I should. ..
That’s not operational efficiency. That’s a fucking liability.
Cutting her now skips all that.
Cleaner. Simpler.
Safer.
Which is exactly why I keep trying to do it.
Not for the company.
For me.
I can’t do my job if I’m sporting a hard on every time she so much as looks at me. She’s a distraction I can’t tolerate.
“She’ll land on her feet,” I finally say, like I’m still convincing myself. “She’s smart. Comes with a stellar reference from a major market leader.”
“God damn it, Bennett. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared of her.”
I glare at him. “I don’t get scared. ”
“Of course not,” he says with a smirk. “Just like you don’t get off balance.”
Before I can formulate a response, there's a knock at the door.
Jenna steps in. “Sorry to interrupt, but you'll want to see this. Robert Carmichael just sent it over.”
She hands me a printed document, an addendum to the acquisition agreement, already signed and board approved.
I scan it. And a spike of adrenaline hits before I’ve even finished the sentence.
Fuck.
“Did legal review this?”
“Already on it,” Jenna says.
My throat constricts as I pass it to Caleb. His mouth twitches as he reads. “Well. That’s bold.”
“What is it?” Jenna asks.
“Robert’s added a clause,” I say, voice flat despite the pulse thudding in my ears. “Layla remains head of the Carmichael division for a minimum of twelve months. Non-negotiable.”
“Can he do that?”
“The board already voted,” Caleb says. “He’s just defining key personnel.”
“And making sure we can’t override it,” I add, jaw tight.
“Is it a deal-breaker?” Jenna asks.
“Of course not,” Caleb crows, slapping me on the back. “Bennett here is fearless in the face of unexpected developments. Right, Bennett?”
His gaze flicks to mine. He knows exactly what this means. I can't cut and run. Not this time.
“Send it to legal,” I say. “And tell them to cover their asses for this kind of thing in the future. ”
“Will do.” Jenna heads for the door.
Caleb lingers. “What was it you said on Saturday night about not believing in fate?”
“This isn’t fate. It’s a father doing what’s right by his daughter.”
“Naturally.” He straightens his jacket. “I’ll have Vicky adjust the structure. Still want Layla in the integration meeting?”
“Yes. And bump the NeuraTech prototype to the top of the list. I want a full technical review.”
“On it.” He pauses at the door. “Twelve months, Bennett. It'll fly by.”
I don’t answer.
But the words follow me long after the door closes.
Twelve months of proximity.
Twelve months of pretending this is just business.
Twelve months with the one variable I can’t predict. The one reaction I can’t regulate.
I don’t like it.
The integration meeting starts at two sharp. I arrive five minutes early to find the conference room already humming with activity.
Robert stands at the far end, deep in conversation with Vicky. Jenna’s flipping through her notes, Logan’s already plugged in, tapping at his tablet like the fate of the world depends on a loading bar. Caleb lounges in one of the chairs, reviewing legal briefs with theatrical disinterest.
“Morning, gentlemen,” I say.
Robert nods. “Bennett. Good to see you again. ”
We exchange the kind of handshake that’s more for optics than substance. Whatever friendliness was possible between us ended the moment he hard coded his daughter into the acquisition terms.
Then the door opens again.
Layla Carmichael walks in.
Navy suit. Crisp white blouse. Hair pulled back in a neat bun. Polished, poised, ready to go to war with a smile.
But all I see is green fabric and moonlight. The curve of her hip against mine. The sound of her voice in my ear.
She meets my eyes briefly. There’s a flicker of something that hits me right in my groin, but she smooths it over with a nod so professional it could be cut from glass. Down boy.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Ms. Carmichael.” I gesture to the seat across from mine. “Thank you for joining us.”
She sits. Jenna passes around folders. Vicky offers Layla a polite smile. Logan doesn’t look up.
“As you all know,” I begin, “the Carmichael board has accepted our offer. Additionally, a clause has been added ensuring that Ms. Carmichael remains head of the Carmichael division for the next twelve months.”
Layla’s eyes flick toward Robert. “I wasn’t aware of that stipulation.”
Robert clears his throat, but I answer first. “Your father was… insistent about maintaining operational continuity.” I pause. “Given your familiarity with the business, it makes strategic sense.”
Caleb coughs pointedly.
I ignore him.
Layla studies me for a moment, then nods. “I appreciate the confidence. I actually prepared some thoughts on integration structure.”
She distributes a document I haven't seen before—a comprehensive proposal outlining a dual-team approach to the transition.
“I put this together over the past few days,” she explains. “It preserves key institutional knowledge while accelerating high-impact opportunities, like NeuraTech, to help offset the need for broader layoffs.”
Vicky scans the pages, eyebrows rising. “This is impressive work.”
“Very detailed,” I add, noting the thorough cost analyzes and timeline projections. “Pragmatic approach.”
“It’s about finding balance,” Layla says evenly. “Leveraging internal expertise to minimize disruption while positioning our strongest assets where they can buy us more time.”
Smart. She's framing everything in business terms rather than emotional appeals.
“You prepared this without knowing you'd be staying on?” Vicky asks.
Layla nods. “I wanted to advocate for my team regardless of my own role.”
Something tightens in my chest. She was prepared to fight for her people even without job security.
“I'd like your input on the NeuraTech prototype,” Logan interjects. “The documentation was... limited.”
Layla's face brightens. “I can arrange a full demonstration. There's significant functionality that wasn't included in the data room.”
“Let's table that for now,” I say. “But your integration proposal has merit, Ms. Carmichael. I'd like to proceed with the committee structure. With some modifications.”
Her expression shifts to surprise. “Of course. What modifications?”
We spend the next hour diving into details. Layla proves sharp, responsive, grounded. Every suggestion is rooted in data and logic. No theatrics or ego. Just focused, strategic execution.
The meeting wraps just after three. The team files out in small groups, discussing follow-up tasks and timeline details.
Somehow—definitely by Caleb's design—he leaves last, offering me a knowing look before closing the door.
Leaving me alone with Layla.
He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.
She gathers her materials methodically. “That went better than expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
“To be dismissed. Or merely tolerated.” She meets my eyes directly. “Thank you for taking the proposal seriously.”
“It was solid work. I don't ignore quality analysis.”
“Even when it comes from a complication?”
“About that.” I move closer, stopping at the table's edge. “Now that you're officially staying on, we need to establish boundaries.”
“Absolutely. Strictly professional.”
“No more rooftop encounters.”
Even though my dick disagrees.
“And no dancing?” She cocks her head.
“Obviously not.”
“Or texting my mother? ”
I wince. “Already a hard limit.”
Her mouth twitches slightly. “You know, she found your thoughts on success and meaning very… enlightening.”
My jaw ticks. “Your mother isn’t an appropriate topic for workplace discussion.”
She leans back, lips upturned, pleased with herself. “Noted. I'll rescind her offer to join our happy hour mixer next week. She’ll be disappointed, of course.”
I shake my head, but the faintest flicker of a laugh escapes me. “That was a joke.”
“It was.” She gathers her files, aligning the corners with scientific precision. “Was there anything else, Mr. Mercer?”
My brain short-circuits. There’s a moment where I want to say something, tug her close against my body the way I did on that rooftop, graze my mouth over her skin… But years of training, of deals and detachment, keep the urge in check.
“That will be all for now.”
She turns to go and glances at me again. “Bennett?” Her voice. My gaze drags over her one last time, impossible to pull away. “I’m glad we had this talk. It’s best if we keep things simple. For both of us.”
I flash her a tight smile. “Of course.”
And then she's gone.
I stare at the closed door longer than necessary. My phone buzzes with a text.
Caleb:
Friendly reminder not to scandalize HR—there are cameras in the boardroom .
I grin despite myself. This arrangement changes everything. Professional boundaries. Personal restraint. The distance I prefer to maintain in my business relationships.
But beneath the complications, I feel something I'm reluctant to examine too closely.
Relief.
Twelve months of working with her. Seeing her mind in action. Watching her defend what she believes in.
Twelve months of trying not to want what I definitely shouldn't want.
It's going to be the longest year of my life.
If I survive it.