Chapter 40 Sadie
SADIE
Istare at my reflection in Landon’s massive bathroom mirror, barely recognizing myself in the emerald gown. The silk hugs every curve, making me look elegant yet seductive. The neckline dips low, deliberately exposing the raised, angry skin below my collarbone where Landon carved his initials.
“Perfect.” Landon appears behind me, eyes darkening as they trace the LB etched into my flesh. “Leave your hair up. I want everyone to see you’re mine.”
His possessiveness should disgust me. Instead, heat pools low in my belly. What’s happening to me? Two weeks ago, I was terrified of this man. Now, despite everything—the stalking, the surveillance, the dominance—I find myself leaning into his touch when his fingers brush my neck.
“You’re quiet tonight.” He presses his lips to my shoulder, watching my reaction in the mirror.
“Just nervous,” I manage, applying another coat of lipstick. “I’ve never been to a charity ball before.”
“You’ll be the most brilliant woman there.” The compliment sounds genuine, making the knot in my chest tighten. These glimpses of something almost human beneath his monstrous exterior are confusing.
My phone buzzes with an incoming video call from an unknown number. Landon steps away to take a business call, and I answer mine with shaking fingers.
Jolene’s bruised face fills my screen. Her eyes are wide with terror above a dirty gag. Blood trickles from her temple.
“Ms. Reynolds.” A heavily accented voice speaks as the camera pans to reveal a middle-aged man with cold eyes. “I am Ilya Orlov. Your friend has been most uncooperative.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “What do you want?”
“Simple. Create a public scene with Landon Blackwood at tonight’s event. Make it dramatic—a lover’s quarrel, perhaps. Then lead him to the east garden. Alone.”
“He’ll know something’s wrong—”
“Then be convincing.” Orlov’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You have until midnight to deliver him. If you alert anyone or fail to deliver him, your friend dies. Most unpleasantly.”
The call ends abruptly. I clutch the countertop, legs weak.
Landon returns. “Car’s waiting. Ready?”
I force a smile. “Ready.”
As we walk toward the elevator, guilt claws at my insides. I’m leading Landon into a trap. Despite everything he’s done, despite how much I should want him to suffer, the thought of betraying him makes me feel physically ill.
But what choice do I have? It’s Landon or Jolene.
The sleek town car glides through the city streets, neon lights reflecting off the tinted windows as we head toward the charity ball.
I stare out at the blur of colors, my mind racing with the impossible choice I face.
Jolene’s bruised face haunts me. As does Orlov’s cold voice delivering his ultimatum.
“Sadie.”
I jump at Landon’s voice, my nerves frayed.
“You’re trembling.” His hand slides over mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I force myself to meet his eyes, those calculating blue depths that strip away every defense.
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice drops an octave. “Your pulse is elevated. You’ve barely spoken since we left. And you keep checking your phone.”
I pull my hand away, curling my fingers into my palm. “It’s nothing serious. Just... It’s that time of the month. Started right before we left.” I shrug. “I’m a little crampy, that’s all.”
Landon stares at me, utterly still in that feral stillness that makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
His eyes narrow, scanning my face. “Is that so?” His voice is soft.
“Interesting. Because according to your calendar—the one you keep on your phone that I have access to—you’re not due for another week and a half. ”
My stomach drops. Of course he would know my cycle. Of course he would track that along with everything else. I swallow hard, scrambling for another excuse.
“I’m irregular sometimes. Stress can—”
“Stop.” His hand captures my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Whatever game you’re playing tonight, I suggest you reconsider.”
I force myself to hold Landon’s gaze despite the tremor in my limbs. His fingers tighten on my chin, not painfully but with unmistakable warning.
“I’m fine.” I inject as much conviction into my voice as possible. “Just nervous about tonight. All those people, the cameras, being introduced as your... whatever I am.”
His eyes narrow, searching for cracks in my story.
“Besides,” I continue, “do you really want the intimate details of my menstrual cycle? Should I describe the cramping? The bloating? How about—”
“Enough.” He releases my chin, lips twitching. “Your biological functions aren’t my concern unless they interfere with your availability to me.”
I turn away, staring out the window. Jolene’s face flashes in my mind—the bruises, the terror in her eyes. My best friend. The only person who’s stood by me through everything. I can’t let her die because of me.
“Look at me,” Landon commands.
I steel myself before meeting his gaze again.
“Whatever you’re hiding, I will find out. I always do.”
“There’s nothing to find.” The lie comes easier this time. “Can we just get through tonight? Please?”
There is a flicker of uncertainty that’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it. He leans back, studying me for a moment.
“Fine. But when we return home, we’ll revisit this conversation.” His hand settles possessively on my thigh, fingers digging into my skin. “And I expect complete honesty.”
I nod, knowing I might not survive to see that conversation. Orlov wants Landon in the garden at midnight. Whatever happens after that, I doubt either of us will be returning to the penthouse tonight.
I have until midnight to figure out how to save both Jolene and myself—and maybe, despite everything he’s done, Landon too.
The car pulls up to the venue, a historic hotel with soaring columns illuminated by spotlights. Photographers line the red carpet, their cameras flashing like lightning.
Landon’s hand settles on the small of my back as we walk inside. “Remember,” he murmurs, “you’re representing the Blackwood name tonight.”
The grand ballroom glitters with crystal chandeliers and wealth. Women dripping in diamonds turn to stare as we enter, their gazes lingering on Landon before sliding to me with curiosity. I can almost hear their thoughts.
Who is she?
What makes her special enough for Landon Blackwood?
If they only knew the truth.
“Landon!” A silver-haired man approaches, hand extended. “Good to see you. This must be the young lady I’ve heard so much about.”
“Thomas, meet Sadie Reynolds.” Landon’s arm tightens around my waist. “Sadie, Thomas Whitmore, our foundation’s biggest donor.”
I force a smile and shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
As Landon navigates us through the crowd, I scan the room for exits, checking my phone discreetly. Nine PM. Three hours until Orlov’s deadline.
“Champagne?” Landon offers me a flute, watching me over the rim of his glass as he sips.
“Thank you.” My fingers tremble as I take it.
“There’s Xavier,” Landon says, nodding toward his brother across the room. “We should—”
“Actually,” I interrupt, placing my hand on his arm, “could we dance first? Just one song before business takes over the night?”
Surprise flickers across his face. “Of course.” His eyes narrow slightly. “I’d be delighted.”
As he leads me to the dance floor, I check the time again. Nine fifteen. Somehow, I need to create a scene convincing enough to make Landon follow me outside alone, yet not so suspicious that he immediately recognizes the trap.
God help me, I have no idea what to do.
Landon pulls me close, his body moving with grace as we glide across the dance floor. Despite everything, there’s no denying the chemistry between us.
“You’re a natural,” he breathes.
“I took lessons in college.” My voice sounds breathless even to my own ears.
His hand slides lower on my back, not inappropriate for public but possessive enough to make my pulse race. “Another piece of the puzzle that is Sadie Reynolds.”
The string quartet transitions to a slower song, more intimate. Landon draws me closer until we’re chest to chest, his heartbeat steady against mine. His eyes—those piercing blue depths—hold mine captive.
“Do you feel it?” he asks.
“Feel what?”
“This.” His fingers spread wide against my lower back. “Us. This connection that defies explanation.”
My throat tightens. The terrifying truth is that I do feel it—this inexplicable pull toward a man who’s violated my privacy, my body, my autonomy. A man who’s also shown me parts of myself I never knew existed.
“I don’t know what I feel anymore,” I mutter.
Something flashes in his eyes—vulnerability so brief I might have imagined it. His thumb brushes the bare skin of my shoulder, igniting a trail of goosebumps.
“You’re mine, Sadie. Whatever happens, remember that.”
My phone buzzes in my clutch, vibrating against my hip where it’s pressed between us. Landon’s eyes narrow, his gaze dropping to my bag as it buzzes again.
“Someone’s persistent.” His voice hardens.
Before I can react, he plucks my clutch from my grip, opens it, and extracts my phone. My heart lurches into my throat as I see Orlov’s number on the screen, along with the preview of a message:
Time running out. East garden or she
“No!” I lunge for the phone, panic exploding through me.
Landon’s fingers close around my wrist like a vise, his other hand holding my phone out of reach. His eyes have gone cold, and all traces of tenderness have vanished.
“What aren’t you telling me, little butterfly?”