35. Bennett
BENNETT
T he moment her hand slides into mine, hunger slams through me like a freight train. Almost a week without her touch has left me hollow, and now every nerve ending screams to life.
My tie might as well be a noose. The Bennett Mercer who never loses control? He died the moment she entered my world.
We start to move, and when my hand finds her waist, I have to close my eyes. Just for a second. The fabric of her dress is warm from her body, and beneath it I can feel her breathing, feel her trembling. Christ, she's trembling. Because of me. Because of us.
When I open my eyes, she's watching me with that mix of defiance and vulnerability that's haunted every sleepless night since she asked for space. That look—it's everything. My destruction and my salvation all at once.
“Bennett.” My name breaks on her lips.
“Don't,” I murmur, pulling her closer because I'll die if I don't. “Just let me hold you. I've been drowning without you.”
The admission rips from somewhere deep, somewhere I didn't know existed until she carved it open. We're barely dancing now, just clinging to each other while Chicago's elite pretend not to stare. Someone crashes into a waiter. I don't care. The whole room could burn down and I wouldn't notice.
I guide her into a turn but can't let go. Instead, I pull her back against my chest, her spine to my sternum, and wrap my arms around her like I can keep her through sheer force of will. She gasps, stiffens, then melts into me with a sound that nearly brings me to my knees.
My mouth finds her neck, grazing soft skin and her pulse jumps against my lips.
“We're in public,” she breathes, but her head falls back against my shoulder.
“Let them watch.” The words come out raw, desperate. “Let the whole world see what you've done to me.”
Her hands cover mine at her waist, fingers interlacing with mine. When I press my lips to that spot below her ear, she doesn't just wobble, she nearly collapses. I catch her weight, hold her up, hold her close. Her fingers dig into my hands like she's anchoring herself to me.
Everything else disappears. The champagne, the perfume, the music. It’s all gone. There's only her vanilla and jasmine scent that I've been chasing on my pillows. Only the heat of her under my palms. Only the woman who owns my heart, my body, my soul.
The music swells around us as I turn her to face me. Now we're chest to chest, her breasts pressed against me, my thigh positioned between hers. We're not even dancing anymore, just holding each other, swaying to a rhythm of our own making.
Her hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair in that gesture that always brings me to my knees.
“I've dreamed of you every night,” I confess, voice rough. “Woken up reaching for you.”
A shudder runs through her body. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, her breathing shallow. My hand at her back slides lower, fingers splayed possessively over the curve where her spine meets her ass.
She doesn't pull away. Instead, her fingers tighten in my hair, tugging the way she knows drives me wild.
I respond by pressing my thigh more firmly between hers. The movement is hidden by her flowing dress but unmistakable in intent. Her breath hitches, her body unconsciously grinding against me before she catches herself.
“This is madness,” she whispers.
“This is us,” I counter. “This has always been us.”
I'm shaking now too. Actually shaking. Me. The man who's negotiated billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat is coming apart on a dance floor.
I lower my head, drawn to her mouth like a dying man to water. Her eyes flutter closed. We're so close I can taste the champagne on her breath, feel the heat of her lips.
She turns her face at the last second, and I press my forehead to her temple instead, breathing hard.
“Not here,” she whispers, and her voice is wrecked too.
“Then where?” The question tears from my chest.
“Bennett— ”
“Come home with me, Layla. Let me show you what you mean to me.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and what I see there makes my chest cave in. Want. Love. Confusion. Pain. Everything I've put her through warring with everything we are together.
“This doesn't solve anything,” she says, but her body contradicts her words, still molded to mine.
“It's a start.” I frame her face with my hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “I love you, Layla. I should have said it before, but I'm saying it now.”
Her eyes widen, filling with tears she refuses to let fall. “Bennett.”
“I know you love me too. You said it that night.”
“Yes,” she admits, the word barely audible. “As if I could stop. But love isn't enough if we want completely different things. I can't just pretend the last week didn't happen. That Phase Two doesn't exist. That you weren't planning to take it all away while I was falling for you.”
The words hit like physical blows, but I don't flinch. Can't. Not when she's finally talking to me.
“You're right,” I say, my hands sliding down to her waist because letting go isn't an option. “I was. But I'm not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
Before I can answer, the music changes to something faster, more upbeat. Couples around us shift into different formations, but we remain frozen in our bubble of tension and need.
“It means I scrapped Phase Two,” I tell her. “Completely. Started over.”
Her eyes widen. “You what? ”
“The board meeting is Thursday. I'm presenting a new plan. One that keeps your father's position. Maintains the campus. Preserves the majority of current jobs instead of eliminating them.”
She stares at me like I've grown a second head. “That's... that's impossible. The numbers don't work.”
“They do if I bring in a partner. Someone who understands what Carmichael Innovations could be.”
“A partner?” Her brow furrows. “What kind of partner?”
This isn't how I planned to tell her. I'd imagined a private conversation, somewhere we could talk without prying eyes watching our every move. But looking at her now—beautiful, vulnerable, teetering on the edge of walking away forever—I can't wait.
“James Tech.” I gesture to where Landon and Willa stand near the bar, watching us with barely concealed interest. “Landon wants to expand their medical outreach programs. NeuraTech could revolutionize treatment for thousands of kids who can't access care now.”
“That's why they invited me? To discuss a partnership?”
“I reached out to Landon. Explained what we're trying to do, what your technology could become in the right hands.” I struggle to keep my voice steady.
“Turns out, he's been following your father’s work for years.
Called you brilliant. Said NeuraTech's applications for cognitive development could change lives.”
She's quiet for so long I start to panic. We've stopped dancing entirely now, just standing in the middle of the floor while couples move around us like water around a stone .
“You did all this... for me?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“For us,” I correct. “For the future I want with you. For the company you love. For the people who matter to you.” I take a shaky breath.
“I can't promise it'll be perfect. The board might still fight me.
Some positions will have to change. But it's better, Layla. So much better than what I originally planned.”
Tears spill over now, tracking down her cheeks in silver streams. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you let me think?—”
“Because I'm a coward,” I admit, the words scraping my throat raw. “Because I've never had to consider anyone else's feelings before. Because I didn't know how to be the man you needed me to be.”
Her hands come up to rest on my chest, and I can feel her trembling. “And now?”
“Now I'm learning. Slowly. Badly. But I'm trying.” I cover her hands with mine.
“I want to be better for you, Layla. I want to be someone who sees beyond profit margins and market share. Someone who understands that companies are made of people with dreams and families and hopes.” I search her eyes.
“I'd rather be a man you can love than a billionaire you can't.”
Tears finally spill over, tracking down her cheeks. “Bennett...”
“I'm not asking you to take me at my word,” I say, brushing the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “But if you’ll let me, I can show you.”
Her breath catches. “You can show me? Here?”
“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.