Chapter 47 Landon
LANDON
Iadjust the dimmer switch, softening the lighting in the dining area to a warm glow that casts gentle shadows across the room. The table is set—actual fucking plates and silverware—something I’ve never bothered with before.
Home.
I move to the windows, looking out at the glittering cityscape spread below like a carpet of stars. My reflection stares back at me—a man I barely recognize anymore. Softer around the edges. Dangerous still, but with purpose.
“Something smells amazing.”
I turn to find Sadie standing in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. Her hair is damp from the shower, curling around her shoulders. The sight of my initials peeking from beneath the collar sends a possessive thrill through me.
“Lamb osso buco,” I answer, crossing to her. “With risotto and roasted vegetables.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You cooked all this?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I pull her against me, breathing in the scent of soap on her skin. “I have many talents you haven’t discovered yet.”
“Clearly.” She smiles at me.
I guide her to the table and then pour deep red wine into crystal glasses. The domesticity of this moment would have disgusted me months ago. Now, watching Sadie take her first sip of wine, her eyes closing in appreciation as the flavor hits her palate, I can’t imagine wanting anything else.
“To unexpected developments,” I say, raising my glass.
She touches her glass to mine. “To unexpected developments.”
“So,” I say, cutting into the tender meat on my plate, “how’s the security overhaul coming along?”
Sadie takes another sip of wine before answering. “I’ve identified seven more vulnerabilities in your network infrastructure that Hollins either missed or deliberately left open.”
“Seven?” The number surprises me.
“Your internal firewall is solid, but your remote access protocols are...” She pauses, searching for a diplomatic word.
“Shit?” I offer.
A smile tugs at her lips. “I was going to say antiquated, but yes, they’re shit.” She lifts a forkful of rice to her mouth. “Anyone with decent skills could exploit the VPN tunnels. I’ve already patched three of them, but the others require hardware upgrades.”
I watch her as she explains the technical details, her eyes bright. The way her mind works—systematic yet creative—continues to fascinate me.
“Would you be interested in taking this on permanently?” I ask.
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Head of Cybersecurity for Blackwood Group. Your own department, team, budget.” I keep my tone casual, though the idea has been consuming my thoughts for days. “You’d report directly to me.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Asking,” I clarify. “Your choice entirely.”
Sadie sets down her fork. “And if I say no?”
In the past, I would have ensured compliance through force or manipulation. Now, I simply shrug. “Then you say no. Though I’d be an idiot to let talent like yours walk away.”
“You’re not known for being an idiot,” she points out, a smirk playing on her lips.
“High praise from you.” I refill her wine glass. “Think about it. No pressure.”
She laughs at that—a genuine sound that still catches me off guard. “Landon Blackwood, not applying pressure? That might be a first.”
I smile back at her. “What can I say? You’re changing all my firsts.”
“Though there is the small issue of fucking the boss,” Sadie says, tilting her head. “I imagine there are rules against that sort of thing, even at Blackwood Group.”
A laugh escapes me. “I believe we’ve already violated most HR policies in existence.” I reach across the table, running my thumb along the back of her hand. “Besides, I’ve never been particularly concerned with rules.”
“Clearly,” she replies, her eyes darkening as my touch lingers.
We finish dinner in comfortable silence, the tension between us building like an electrical charge. As I clear our plates, a thought that’s been nagging me for days resurfaces.
“Seven months from now, the contract expires,” I state, setting the dishes in the sink and turning to study her reaction carefully.
She freezes, wine glass halfway to her lips.
“What happens then?” I ask, keeping my voice deliberately casual, though I know my eyes betray my intensity.
Sadie sets down her glass. I can see the realization dawning on her—this is the first time I’ve acknowledged that our arrangement has an end date.
Will she leave when she’s legally free to do so?
She takes a deep breath. “I haven’t thought about leaving in weeks, Landon.”
A tightness in my chest loosens, though I maintain my composure.
“Despite how this began,” she continues, meeting my gaze directly, “I stay with you now because I choose to, not because of any contract.”
I move closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame.
“I don’t want to leave,” she whispers. “Not after the year ends. Not ever.”
“Why?” The words escape me before I can stop them.
Sadie stands, closing the distance between us. “Because I love you.”
My breath catches.
“I love every part of you—the shadows, the fierce way you guard what’s yours.” Her fingertips graze my jawline. “Not despite those things, but because of them. You see me, and I see you. Our fractures fit like pieces of the same ruin.”
I stand frozen, the word love hanging between us like a live grenade. Her declaration strips me bare, more vulnerable than any physical nakedness ever could. My throat tightens, muscles constricting around words I’ve never spoken to anyone.
“I don’t know how to say it back,” I admit. “Those words... they don’t come easily to me.”
Her eyes hold no judgment, only patient understanding that makes this somehow both easier and infinitely more difficult.
I turn away, unable to maintain eye contact as I feel the walls I’ve built for decades beginning to crack.
“My father died when I was five.” The words scrape my throat raw.
“Motorcycle accident. He was...” I clench my fists, forcing myself to continue.
“He was on his way to pick me up from school. I’d gotten into a fight with another kid—fucking stupid argument over a toy. The school called him to come get me.”
Sadie remains silent, her presence steady by my side.
“He was going too fast. Lost control on Jefferson Bridge.” My voice sounds hollow, detached, as if someone else is speaking. “If I hadn’t started that fight, he wouldn’t have been on that bridge at that exact moment.”
I stand up and move to the window, staring at the city lights without seeing them.
“When Knox was born, my mother was late to the hospital because I fell and scraped my knees bloody at the park. She had to clean me up first.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “Knox nearly died. The cord was wrapped around his neck. If she’d been there sooner, she’d probably still be...”
I press my forehead against the cool glass.
“I’ve always felt cursed,” I confess. “Like I bring destruction to everyone I care about.”
The admission hangs in the air, the most honest thing I’ve ever said to another human being.
Sadie steps up beside me and I feel her hand slide into mine, her warmth anchoring me as she steps closer.
“Is that why you carve your initials into things that matter to you?” she asks. “To claim them before the curse can take them away?”
No one has ever connected these pieces of me before—not my brothers, not the therapists Xavier forced me to see. Yet Sadie, with her systematic mind, has mapped the terrain of my broken psyche and found the pattern I’ve never acknowledged even to myself.
I can only manage a slight nod, words failing me as I grip her hand and turn to face her.
“You’re not cursed, Landon,” Sadie says, her voice steady with conviction. “You were a child. None of it was your fault.”
She takes my hand and places it over her heart, right where my initials are permanently etched into her skin. I feel her heartbeat beneath my palm, steady and strong.
“And this?” she continues. “This means I choose your curse. I choose you.”
A dam breaks inside me—one I’ve spent decades reinforcing, now crumbling under the weight of her simple truth. I cup her face with hands I can’t keep from trembling, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones.
“The moment I caught you, little butterfly, we were both cursed.” I swallow hard. “I’ve never said those words to anyone,” I admit, my voice rough. “I never thought I was capable of feeling this.”
I take a deep breath, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat.
“I love you, Sadie. You’re the only thing I’ve ever loved.”
The admission tears through me like a blade, tearing open a part of me that’s been sealed shut so long I’d forgotten it existed. Physical pain would be easier to bear than this vulnerability.
“All my life, love has meant vulnerability,” I explain. “And vulnerability meant weakness. It meant giving someone the power to destroy you.”
Her eyes never leave mine, patient and understanding in ways I don’t deserve.
“But with you,” I whisper, the realization dawning as I speak it, “it feels like strength.”
I pull Sadie toward me, lowering my mouth to hers. The softness of her lips against mine feels like surrender, but not hers—mine.
My fingers thread through her hair, cradling her head as I deepen the kiss. When she sighs against my mouth, the sound travels through me like electricity.
I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom, my thumb tracing circles on her wrist where her pulse beats steadily. The lights from the city cast shadows across her face as she looks up at me, her eyes reflecting a look I never thought I’d see directed at me—trust.
Our bodies come together with familiar hunger but unfamiliar tenderness. I’ve always approached sex as conquest—pleasure extracted rather than shared. Tonight feels different.
Her body arches beneath mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
Even in this vulnerable moment, we remain who we are—darkness calling to darkness.
My teeth find her neck, her shoulder, but my bite is gentler than before.
Her cry when she comes apart isn’t one of surrender but of mutual destruction.
We shatter together, the intensity both familiar and entirely new.
After, she lies beside me, her breathing slowing as I trace the raised outline of my initials on her skin. The scar I carved into her, once a mark of ownership, now feels like a symbol of our twisted journey.
“Stay with me,” I say, my voice low in the darkness. “Not because of the contract. Not because I own you. Because we choose each other.”
Sadie’s fingers intertwine with mine over the scar. “I choose you,” she whispers. “All of you. Every broken, twisted piece.”
She shifts to face me, pressing her lips to the corner of my mouth. “And you choose me. Not as property, but as your equal.”
I nod, sealing our pact with another kiss. We remain what we are—dark, obsessive, dangerous—but now without pretense. Without lies. We choose this madness together.