Chapter 5
Anna
“You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS announces just as my SUV rolls up to the address Sabrina gave me for Landon’s house. Over the phone, the word house had sounded modest enough… almost ordinary. But now, as I pull into the driveway, modest is the last word that comes to mind.
This isn’t just a house. It’s a statement. An exorbitant-money-meets-oversized-ego kind of statement.
The main structure rises as if it were born from the land itself.
Its stone facade, weathered yet regal, catches the soft evening light along the dark slate roof.
Tall arched windows, each framed by black-trimmed shutters that are far too perfect to have ever been opened, punctuate the walls.
A wraparound porch stretches across the entire front, wide enough to host a small wedding.
And the front door is solid oak, polished to an almost royal sheen, as though it were imported straight from a European castle.
I bet he even has a parade of sexy women coming and going through those doors. The thought hits before I can stop it, and a faint sting of jealousy flares in my chest. Damn it, Anna, you’re his ex-wife. You’re not supposed to care.
But if controlling these ridiculous emotions were that simple, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my heart doing a full gymnastics routine.
My gaze drifts to the rearview mirror, and I catch my reflection. Pulling in a deep breath, I whisper the same lines I’ve been chanting since I left my apartment. One interview. It’s just business, nothing personal. There will be people around. It won’t be just you and him.
The pep talk feels hollow, but I cling to it like a lifeline, because I cannot let myself get weak. I need to show him I’ve moved on, and more importantly, that I’m in control.
I’ve even put on my armor: black tailored trousers, a crisp white shirt, my hair swept into a neat, low bun. Nothing about this outfit screams ex-wife desperate for her ex-husband’s attention. It only says one thing… I’m here to do my job.
Pushing down the unease, I glance around for the crew car, expecting to see our company van. But the driveway is empty.
Frowning, I reach for my phone wondering what happened. Marcy said she’d be here before me. Maybe she’s stuck somewhere, or maybe they’ve parked farther up the property. I’m just about to call her when a sharp knock on my window makes me jump so hard I nearly drop my phone.
My head snaps to the left, and suddenly, my lungs forget how to work, stealing the air right out of me. Standing in front of me is Landon Hayes. I open my mouth, but not a single word comes out.
With one hand on the hood, he leans in slightly, his gaze sweeping over me with that same look that once made me feel like I was the only person who ever mattered to him.
And my traitor heart lights up instantly, devouring every detail of him.
His hair is shorter than I remember, blond strands tousled like he’s just run a hand through them.
A light stubble shadows his jaw, close to scruff, but still deliberate.
And his blue eyes… damn, they sparkle with a depth that makes my chest tighten.
God, why does he still have to look so dangerously handsome? Especially when my heart is already hanging by a thread?
He knocks on the window again, grinning, and my blood does a slow, rebellious boil. Focus, Anna. Don’t hand him a victory before the interview even begins. You can’t lose control with just a look.
I drag in a deep, steadying breath. Then another, because one is nowhere near enough, before I roll the window down.
“I’m sorry to startle you, but you’ve been sitting out here for so long I was starting to wonder if you were plotting my murder.” His mouth curves into that slow, knowing smirk, the kind that says he’s testing just how much he can still get under my skin.
I give myself a small pat. You won’t let him rattle you. You’ve got this, Anna. With that I push the door open as he steps back.
“Good morning, Mr. Hayes.”
My voice is cool, precise… polished into the tone I save for strangers.
“Mr. Hayes?” His brow lifts as he folds his hands across his chest. “That’s cute. But we both know you’ve called me plenty of things, and Mr. Hayes sure as hell wasn’t one of them.”
He’s fucking trying to rile me. God, I seriously underestimated how hard his presence and that smart-ass mouth would hit me after all this time.
I ignore his jab and lift my chin just enough to make it clear I’m not playing his game.
“Mr. Hayes. I’m here for the interview, so if we could keep this civil and on schedule, I’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, we’ll get to your interview.” His gaze sweeps over me and lingers with deliberate slowness. “But you and I both know ‘civil’ was never really my thing, at least not when it came to you.”
Fucking asshole.
“I’m just waiting for my crew,” I say, fixing him with the look I save for difficult interviewees who think the world stops spinning without them.
He gives a careless shrug. “They’ve left.”
My mouth falls open, and I blink, convinced I misheard him. A few seconds pass before my brows knit together. “Left?”
He nods. “Mm-hmm.”
“Why the hell would they leave? Give me a second, I think there must be some miscommunication. Let me call and check. I’ll get this sorted.” I ramble the words out in a rush as I start dialing on my phone.
“There’s no miscommunication,” he says calmly, like he’s discussing the weather. “They came on time, but I sent them away.”
My eyes widen and I blink at him, slower this time. “You did what?”
“It’s just you and me for the interview.”
He says it so casually like he’s offering me a cup of coffee, like it isn’t an outrageous breach of every professional boundary in existence.
I take a step back until my spine bumps against my car, needing the physical space to process this insanity. “You can’t just—”
“I can.” His mouth curves into that infuriating half-smile. “You want the interview, Anna. And now you’ve got all of me, uninterrupted.”
A disbelieving laugh slips out of me. “That’s not how this works, Mr. Hayes.”
“It does. In here, I call the shots. My house, my way.”
I shake my head, heat crawling up my spine. “Noted, Mr. Hayes. But as almighty as you might be, this is utterly unprofessional and, honestly, downright insane.”
“Insane… unprofessional… call it whatever you want. Doesn’t matter. I want all of your attention. Without any interruptions.” His mouth twitches, and he leans in slightly as he continues. “And I’ll make damn sure I get exactly what I want.”
Staying calm around him without getting provoked is like trying to steer water uphill. Completely pointless.
“Do you even hear yourself?” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest, my eyes blazing. “Let me make one thing very clear, Mr. Hayes. Don’t mistake my professionalism for anything else. I’m here for the interview you insisted on, and nothing more. So keep your games out of it, or I walk away.”
He tilts his head, his eyes scanning my face like he’s cataloguing every twitch, every flicker of irritation.
“I like this professional attitude. It’s a damn turn-on when you’re all business, Anna. Definitely a side I didn’t see back then. But, sweetheart, with all our history, do you really think you can flip that switch and stay professional?” He smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on me.
I ball my fists so tight at my sides that it feels like my fingers might cut into my palms.
“I can stay professional. And sorry to bruise your oversized ego, but you’re not as unforgettable as you think. I’m so over you. And at this point,” I glare at him, “I don’t think it’s worth going ahead with this interview… not with you acting like a complete jerk.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want the interview because I’m being a jerk?” He gives a short, mocking laugh. “Figures. I knew you’d find an excuse to back out and not go through with this.”
“I’m not finding excuses,” I shoot back, annoyed.
“Aren’t you?” His eyes locking onto mine like he’s daring me to break.
I feel my jaw tighten. “No, I’m not. I came here, didn’t I?”
His gaze softens in a way that is somehow worse than his smirk, because it makes my stomach knot. “You sure did agree. But now that you’re face-to-face with me, it must be pretty hard to follow through.”
“No,” I say firmly, forcing the word between my teeth. “Seeing you doesn’t do anything to me. It’s only your irritating mouth that’s getting under my skin.”
His gaze dips briefly to my mouth before coming back to my eyes. “You can tell yourself that if it makes it easier to walk away from this interview.”
I know exactly what he’s doing, making it impossible for me to back out, yet ensuring the interview will be a nightmare if I proceed.
“God, you are—” I cut myself off, exhaling hard. “You don’t get to twist everything just to get your way.”
He takes a step closer, wiping out the space I’d fought to put between us. Heat radiates off him, the faint scent of cedar mixed with his own signature scent curling into my lungs.
“If I were twisting things, sweetheart, you’d already be in my arms.”
“Wow. Still so confident the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you—it doesn’t. And you are the last person I’d ever let back into my orbit.”
“You know you could never resist my charms, Anna.”
“You are speaking in past tense,” I fire back.
The moment those words leave my mouth, the mischief drains from his eyes.
“I know you hate me,” he says quietly. “But regardless of what you think of me, I never wanted to hurt you.”
For a second, I almost believe him. Almost believe he never would hurt me intentionally.
But then the image of those divorce papers flashes behind my eyes, and every instinct screams that he’s a liar.
I want to let him know him how much his leaving tore me apart, but I hold back.
I don’t want to revisit the past with him.
When I don’t reply, he continues, his voice dropping low. “And signing those papers wasn’t easy, Anna. It made me—”
“Please, stop. I don’t want to do this now,” I snap, cutting him off.
He exhales loudly. “How about this? You come inside and take the interview. Do exactly what you came here for.”
My heartbeat races, but I force my voice to stay cool. “You think you can just order me around, and I’ll just give in to your stubbornness?”
“Be smart, Anna. You don’t want to walk back empty-handed. Your editor would be pretty disappointed in you.”
“I don’t—”
I clamp my mouth shut, because damn it, he’s right. But I refuse to agree and give him that satisfaction. Instead, my spine locks straight.
“Fine. I’ll do this interview. And I’ll prove to you that you don’t rattle me. I can keep my boundaries, no matter how hard you try to break them.”
“That’s my gi—” He doesn’t get to finish as my glare shuts him up instantly.
He chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I mean, you always did know how to challenge me. Guess that’s why I never walked away.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he holds my hand, stopping me. “I’m just glad you’re doing this interview.”
I force out a breath. “Forty-five minutes.”
He gestures toward the porch. “Take all the time you need.”
“I said forty-five —”
“I heard you,” he says, his voice threading with something suspiciously like victory.
Irritated, I walk past him, keeping my steps even and my head held high. But I can feel his gaze following me all the way to the door.
Please, God… don’t let these forty-five minutes turn into the longest of my life.