Page 101 of Dial F for Finance

“I’m being friendly,” Jenna says, her voice a masterclass in deadpan delivery. She doesn’t even blink. “If I were being unfriendly, I would have waited until Bennett called Uno to deploy the strike.”

Bennett finishes incorporating his four new cards into his hand, his expression a mask of stoic suffering. “Remind me of this moment during your next salary review.”

“Ouch,” I say, sliding my hand from Jenna’s neck down to her waist and pulling her flush against my side. “Let’s not bring office power dynamics onto the Uno table, Mr. Mercer. Especially when Canfield tried to poach her recently.”

Jenna’s gaze snaps to mine. “That reminds me—did Roz send Xavier Hailey’s CV?”

“She did. Xavier wants to conduct a preliminary interview with Hailey over the phone on Monday.”

Her whole face opens. “Already?”

“Of course. She’s a Pemberton. They’re jumping on it.”

“She’ll love that.” Her smile turns pure and unguarded. “Thanks, Dominic.”

“Ends of the earth, sweetheart.”

The moment stretches. I’m completely lost in that rare, blinding smile of hers, my thumb idly tracing her skin when a sudden, suffocating silence registers across the table.

I drag my gaze away from my wife to find eight pairs of eyes fixed entirely on us. The Uno deck sits abandoned.

Layla rests her chin on her hands, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my God,” she coos, her voice pitched to maximum sweetness. “Look at them. You two are so sickeningly adorable I might actually need a minute.”

“It’s true,” Audrey chimes in, swirling her tequila soda with a knowing smirk. “I think Logan might need to calculate the exact probability of Dominic Cruz looking at a woman with actual, genuine cartoon heart-eyes. It’s an anomaly.”

“I can run the numbers,” Logan offers immediately. “But preliminary estimates suggest a highly significant correlation between Jenna’s presence and Dominic’s compromised baseline heart rate.”

Beside me, Jenna immediately stiffens. Her professional armor snaps back into place, though it does absolutely nothing to hide the furious, magnificent crimson creeping up her neck. She sits ramrod straight, staring fiercely at her remaining Uno card.

“The game is still in play,” Jenna announces, her voice clipped and desperately professional. “Serena, it is your turn. Blue or a wild.”

“And we’re back to deflection,” Caleb whispers loudly to David. “Classic Pemberton maneuver.”

CHAPTER 26

Jenna

Iwin the third Uno round and survive the celebration, which is a sentence I couldn’t have written a month ago.

While the table dissolves into a tribunal on whether guacamole is legally a salad—Layla dissenting loudly on the grounds that “salad implies effort”—I take my wine and slip out through the balcony door.

The cool Chicago wind hits my flushed face as the glass door slides shut, muting the chaos of the penthouse behind me. I grip the steel railing, drawing a sharp, measured breath. My heart is doing something undignified against my ribs.

It wasn’t just the teasing. It was the look Dominic gave me right before the table went quiet. That heavy, heated stare that pinned me to my chair and made the rest of the room evaporate. I am perfectly capable of handling billionaire CEOs, hostile negotiations, and Bennett Mercer on three hours of sleep. I am not equipped to handle the way Dominic’s dark eyes completely dismantle my defenses, or the terrifying reality that I’m actively letting him do it. I’m falling for the man—fully—and the entire executive board of our friend group just witnessed how deep I’m in.

The soft glide of the glass door breaks my spiral.

“Tactical retreat?” Serena asks, coming to stand beside me at the railing. Her dark hair blows in the breeze, her signature red lipstick perfectly intact despite the number of tacos and tequila-heavy drinks ingested this evening. I need to get the brand name.

“Strategic repositioning,” I correct, taking a slow sip of my wine to ensure my voice is level. “The indoor climate was becoming unmanageable.”

Serena chuckles, a low, knowing sound. “Uh-huh. The climate. You know it’s entirely OK to just admit you’re happy, right? You don’t have to inspect the man’s affection for flaws.”

“Inspecting things for flaws is literally in my job description,” I remind her, keeping my gaze fixed on the glittering grid of the city below. “It prevents catastrophic failure.”

“Jenna, you’re married to him.” Serena leans her hip against the railing, turning to face me. “The falling in love part already happened. You can stop doing due diligence.”

“No one said anything about love. It’s a situational marriage,” I point out, though the words taste thin and unconvincing even to me. My thumb traces the condensation on my wine glass. “And he is . . . entirely too much.”