19. Bennett
BENNETT
Shit.
I adjust my tie higher, then lower, then higher again. Nothing works. The damn thing peeks no matter what I do. My phone buzzes with a text from Caleb.
Caleb:
In the conference room. Fair warning - Robert Carmichael showed up 20 minutes early and he looks ready to commit murder.
Me:
On my way.
The conference room is already three-quarters full when I enter. Vicky’s bent over financial projections with our team. Logan’s absorbed in his tablet, hair sticking up at angles that suggest he slept in the lab again.
And Robert Carmichael stands at the windows, hands clasped behind his back, radiating fury like a space heater set to ‘destroy.’
“Morning, everyone.”
The team responds with various greetings. Vicky glances up, does a double-take.
“You look… different today. Haircut?”
The door opens, saving me from needing to respond. Layla enters, and my pulse kicks into overdrive.
Black suit today. Hair in a sleek bun that makes me remember wrapping my fists in it. Professional. Composed. Absolutely nothing to indicate she was crying out my name four hours ago.
Except.
My eyes find the spot on her chest where I know there’s a matching mark, hidden under a blue buttoned to her neck. The memory of making it—her gasp, her nails in my shoulders, the way she arched against me—floods back with unfortunate clarity.
Our eyes meet as she takes her seat at the far end of the table. Smart. Safe. The brief connection still sends heat straight through me.
“Layla.” Robert’s voice slices through the room. “Nice of you to join us. Which side of the table are you sitting on?”
She touches his arm gently. “Dad, please. Not here.”
He jerks away from her touch, jaw clenching. Something raw flashes across her face before she smooths it away.
I clear my throat. “Shall we begin? ”
For twenty minutes, we maintain the illusion of normalcy. Staffing overlaps. NeuraTech expansion. Sales restructuring. Logan and Audrey fall into an animated discussion about neural mapping that has them practically vibrating with shared excitement.
“Is Logan actually… talking to a woman?” Caleb whispers to me as Logan uses both hands to demonstrate something complex.
“Appears so.”
“And Audrey hasn’t blinked in forty-five seconds.” He tilts his head. “Should we check them for concussions?”
Across the table, Logan’s saying something about synaptic pathways that makes Audrey light up like he’s just solved world hunger. She jumps in with an addition that has him bouncing in his seat.
“Twenty bucks says they’re dating within a month,” Vicky adds in.
“I don’t bet on personal relationships.” The irony isn’t lost on me as my eyes drift to Layla. She’s worrying her lower lip between her teeth—the same lip I kissed swollen this morning.
“Bennett?”
I snap back to find Vicky smirking. “Yes?”
“I asked if you wanted to address marketing budget next. You were too busy staring at?—”
“Marketing. Absolutely.” I shuffle papers I don’t need to shuffle. “Let’s discuss?—”
“Actually,” Robert interrupts, his control finally snapping, “I have a question about these staffing projections.”
The temperature drops ten degrees.
“Of course,” I say evenly. “What concerns you?”
“Everything.” He leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “ But especially your habit of making promises you can’t keep. Tell me, how many employees have you promised job security right before destroying their lives?”
His gaze flicks to my neck, lingering on the spot I know the mark shows above my collar. His jaw tightens, knuckles whitening as he grips the table edge.
“We haven’t promised anything of the sort. The entire roster is under review. Our internal memos have made that clear.”
“Dad,” Layla warns.
“Don’t.” He doesn’t even look at her. “I want numbers. How many people?”
“Every situation requires unique solutions?—”
“Bullshit.” He slams a hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Give me a number. How many families do you plan to destroy while calling it ‘efficiency’?”
I meet his stare. “Restructuring is sometimes necessary for long-term?—”
“You’re a parasite.” His face flushes darker. “A disease in a suit, and my daughter is?—”
“Dad, stop.” Layla’s voice carries warning.
“—is defending you at every turn. Rolling over for whatever scraps you throw our way.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me, Layla, what exactly are you getting out of being so… accommodating?”
Color floods her cheeks. “I’m trying to save jobs?—”
“By spreading your legs for the enemy?”
The words detonate like a bomb.
Someone's coffee cup hits the table with a sharp crack. Papers scatter as Vicky jerks back. Logan's stylus clatters to the floor. Everyone freezes, then fourteen people suddenly develop an intense fascination with their tablets, the table, anywhere but the disaster unfolding.
“Excuse me?” Layla’s voice is deadly quiet.
“You think I’m blind? The looks, the rumors, the way you defend him like a loyal little?—”
“Enough.” She stands abruptly, hands shaking. “You don’t get to do this. Not when you hid everything for months. Not when you let your pride destroy the company rather than ask for help.”
“I was protecting?—”
“Your ego!” The words explode from her. “You were protecting your image while everything burned down around us. And now you want to blame me for trying to save what’s left?”
“At least I’m not whoring myself?—”
“Don't. You. Dare.” She cuts him off, gathering her things with trembling hands. Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “I won't sit here and allow you to treat me like this in front of everyone.”
She walks out, spine straight but shoulders shaking. Every part of me screams to chase after her, but I’m forced to remain in the suffocating silence she leaves behind.
“Mr. Carmichael,” I start, my teeth clenched. “Your behavior is out of line, and completely unprofessional. This isn’t just inappropriate—it’s disgraceful.”
Robert opens his mouth but then seems to realize what he’s done, his face crumbling from rage to horror.
“I should—” He half-rises, then collapses back. “Jesus Christ, what did I just…”
“Perhaps we should take a fifteen-minute break,” I manage, wishing there was something I could do to shield her from this mess, to undo the damage Robert Carmichael just inflicted.
Caleb leans in. “Do you want me to say something? Clarify that Layla’s been handling everything above board?”
I shake my head. “No. This is between him and me. Man to man.”
People flee like the building's on fire. Within seconds, it's just Robert and me.
“Feel better?” I ask quietly.
He looks up, eyes haunted. “She's my daughter.”
“She's a brilliant executive who's destroying herself trying to save your legacy. And you just called her a whore in front of her entire team.”
“I didn't mean?—”
“Yes, you did.” I stand, straightening my jacket. “You meant to hurt her. Congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
“You don't understand.” His voice cracks. “She's all I have left. The company, my marriage, everything's falling apart, and now she's?—”
“Now she's what? Doing her job? Fighting for your employees? Being the adult you refuse to be?”
Robert's face contorts. “She's choosing you over her own family.”
“She's not choosing me.” I lean forward, hands flat on the table. “She's choosing to save as many of those three hundred and forty-two jobs as she can. Jobs your mismanagement put on the line. The fact that we're involved is separate from?—”
“So you admit it.” His eyes flash with triumph and pain. “You're sleeping with my daughter. ”
“What I'm doing with your daughter is treating her with the respect she deserves. Something you just spectacularly failed at.”
“Respect?” He laughs, bitter and sharp. “You think I don't know how men like you operate? You see something you want, and you take it. Companies, technologies, people's daughters?—”
“Stop.” My voice drops to dangerous territory. “You want to hate me? Fine. You want to blame me for your failures? Go ahead. But don't you dare diminish what Layla means to me by reducing it to some kind of... conquest.”
“What she means to you?” Robert's voice breaks. “She's a transaction to you. Another asset to acquire.”
“She's everything,” I say before I can stop myself. The admission hangs, raw.
Robert stares at me, mouth open. “You... you actually care about her.”
“Did you think this was a game? That I'd risk everything—my reputation, this acquisition, her career—for something casual?”
“I don't know what to think.” He slumps in his chair, suddenly looking every one of his fifty-six years. “Six weeks ago, she was my little girl trying to save my company. Now she's... I don't even recognize who she's become.”
“She's become the woman you forced her to be.” I straighten. “You hid the finances. You refused help. You put her in an impossible position, and she's handled it with more grace than you deserve.”
“I was trying to fix it?—”
“No. You were trying to maintain your ego. And when that failed, you turned on the one person still fighting for you.” I move toward the door, then pause. “She idolizes you, you know. Even now. Even after what you just did. She'll probably forgive you because that's who she is.”
“I don't deserve her forgiveness.”
“No,” I agree. “You don't. But she'll give it anyway because she loves you more than you love yourself. The question is whether you'll be man enough to earn it.”
“How?” His voice is small, broken. “How do I fix this?”
“Start by remembering that she's not your little girl anymore.
She's a grown woman making hard choices in impossible situations. Respect that. Respect her.” I grip the door handle.
“And if you ever speak to her like that again—in public or private—acquisition or no acquisition, I will end you. Are we clear?”
He nods, not meeting my eyes.
“One more thing,” I add. “What Layla and I have.
.. it's real. It's complicated and probably ill-advised, but it's real.
I'm not using her. I'm not playing games.
I'm falling for your daughter, and there's nothing either of us can do about it. So you can either accept that or lose her completely. Your choice.”
I leave him there with that truth, hoping it's enough to salvage something from this disaster.
In the hallway, I stop and press my palms against the wall, forcing myself to breathe. My fists are very eager for me to go back and make him pay for those words. Instead, I count to ten, straighten my tie, and head to Layla's office.
Through the glass walls, I can see Audrey sitting on the edge of the desk, rubbing Layla's back while she sits hunched in her chair, shoulders shaking.
Audrey looks up as I approach, our eyes meeting through the glass. She murmurs something to Layla, who straightens and quickly wipes at her face.
I knock softly before entering.
“I'll leave you two alone,” Audrey says immediately, squeezing Layla's shoulder. She pauses beside me at the door, her voice dropping low. “She's trying to be strong, but what he said... just be careful with her, OK?”
“Always,” I promise.
Audrey searches my face for a moment, then nods and slips out, closing the door behind her.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Layla attempts a smile that breaks my heart. “I'm fine. Just... processing the fact that my father thinks I'm prostituting myself for job security.”
“He's scared and lashing out.”
“That doesn't make it hurt less.” She takes a shaky breath. “I should be used to disappointing him by now.”
All I want is to pull her into my arms, but the glass walls of her office make that impossible. “You haven't disappointed anyone.”
“Haven't I?” She laughs, bitter. “I mean, technically he's not wrong. I am sleeping with you.”
“Layla—”
“But not for the job. God, not for...” She presses her palms against her eyes. “I need him to know that. That this isn't... that you're not...”
“I know.” My hand twitches toward her before I catch myself. “He knows too. He's just too proud to admit it.”
My phone buzzes.
Jenna:
People returning. ETA 2 minutes .
“Everything OK?” Layla asks.
“Boardroom’s filling up again.”
“We should go back,” Layla says, steel entering her voice. “Can’t let them think he broke me.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do.” She stands, smoothing her skirt. “I’ve got twelve direct reports in there who just heard my father call me a whore. I go back, or I lose their respect forever.”
We walk back together, maintaining careful distance. Just before we enter, her hand brushes mine, so quick anyone watching would think it accidental.
“Later?” she breathes.
“Absolutely.”
The rest of the meeting is autopilot. Robert doesn’t speak, won’t look at anyone. Layla handles every question with a grace that makes me want to give her a standing ovation. Or a hug. Or both.
When we finally wrap, Robert bolts like the room’s on fire. Layla watches him go, something fracturing in her expression before she catches herself.
“Audrey,” she says, voice forcefully bright. “Can you send me those neural mapping projections?”
“Of course!” Audrey beams, then glances at Logan. “Actually, Logan had some optimization ideas that were absolutely brilliant. Maybe we could all review them together?”
Logan actually blushes. “I mean, if you have time. I know you’re busy. We’re all busy. Time is… finite.”
“Coffee,” Layla suggests, taking pity on him. “You two should grab coffee and discuss. Away from here. Far away.”
“Coffee’s good,” Logan says quickly. “Efficient caffeine delivery system. ”
Audrey smiles at him like he just quoted Shakespeare. “I love efficiency.”
They leave together, Logan holding the door and almost walking into the frame because he’s too busy staring at her.
“Ten bucks says they name their first kid Algorithm,” Vicky says as she exits the room.
Layla's phone lights up on the table. Even from here, I can see the preview of her father's text:
I'm in your office. We need to talk. Please.
She sees it too, her shoulders tensing. Our eyes meet across the empty conference room.
“Want backup?” I ask quietly.
“No.” She squares her shoulders. “I'm not interested in anything he has to say right now.” She picks up her phone and texts as much.
The way she handles it—decisive, clear, done—makes me want to pull her into my arms right here in the conference room. A month ago, she would have run to smooth things over. Now she's protecting her own peace. God, she's incredible.
“Dinner later? I still have that wine.”
She gives me a tired smile. “Dinner sounds perfect.”
As she leaves, I'm already planning how to make tonight exactly what she needs. Good food, better wine, and absolutely no talk of fathers or acquisitions. Just us, figuring out this new territory we've claimed.
For the first time in my career, I can't wait for the workday to end.