Chapter 17
Anna
Damn him. I’m fucking so damn weak when it comes to Landon.
It makes me so furious the way my body betrays me and the way my heart stumbles every time he’s near. But my mind knows better. It screams at me to keep my distance, but the moment he steps into my space, I lose the fight. And I hate myself for it.
Even last week, when I told Mick I’d be at his place for dinner, all it took was one touch from Landon, and my mind just short-circuited.
In fact, I was ready to give in, letting him claim every part of me until nothing remained but us.
But just then, Liala’s sudden cry yanked me back from the brink.
And what did I do? Instead of giving myself space from Landon, I rang Mick and cancelled our dinner.
Since then, the quiet gleam of victory in Landon’s eyes hasn’t faded.
He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and God help me, part of me wants him to keep doing it.
And what’s worse, the days that followed have been nothing short of torture. He no longer wields the icy silence that he once did; instead, he gives me something far more dangerous. His constant attention.
His eyes are always on me, and the way his gaze catches my mouth makes my breath falter.
Even when I’m just pouring coffee, he stands too close, his arm brushing mine, sending a jolt of current through me.
And when I come home from work and settle Liala to sleep, he murmurs, “You should get some rest too. I’ve got her,” and my heart just melts.
It’s all too much.
And I know it’s only a matter of time before I let go of all the hate I’ve been carrying for him and finally give in to him.
But through it all, what terrifies me most is not knowing whether I’ll regret it more if I hold on to my hate… or if I let it go.
The shrill buzz of my phone jolts me out of my thoughts, and my eyes flick to the screen. Sabrina.
She still has no idea I’m living under the same roof as Landon. She doesn’t know about our history, either. And in a way, I’m lucky Landon has respected my wish to keep it quiet.
Pulling my knees up to my chest on the bed, I force a steady breath and swipe to answer.
“Hey, Sabrina.”
“Anna.” Her voice hums through the receiver, soft but urgent. “Sorry to call so late, but I have a favor to ask.”
My stomach knots instantly. The last time I felt like this was when she asked me to interview Landon. I just hope this time isn’t as bad.
“What kind of favor?” I ask cautiously.
“I want another article on Landon.”
My heart plummets. “Another one?”
“Yes. The last piece you wrote was a hit. Everyone loved it—the board, the readers, our partners. It’s exactly the kind of momentum we need.
And this time…” She pauses, just for a fraction of a second, before adding.
“I need something more. Juicy. Controversial. Something that’ll really push us to the next level. ”
I close my eyes. “Sabrina, I don’t think I can—”
“No, Anna,” she cuts me off. “I know if anyone can do it, it’s you.
You very well know the last time you were on leave and Landon came into the office, he specifically asked for you.
He made it crystal clear he wanted you on his profile and no one else.
I still don’t know why, and honestly, I don’t care.
But what I do care about is getting this next article out. It could take our firm to new heights.”
I want to tell her no. To snap and say it’s not right, that I won’t write a word against Landon. How can I tear into the man who is the father of my child. Who still has the power to break me with a single look?
But I know better than to argue with Sabrina. She won’t end the call until she’s wrung the answer she wants out of me.
“I’ll… see what I can get,” I murmur, sinking my teeth into my lip hard enough to sting.
“That’s my girl.” Her tone softens, like she’s trying to coax me into confidence. “Make sure you bring me something people will talk about. Something that makes headlines.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Right. Got it.”
She chirps a cheerful goodbye before hanging up, leaving me staring at the darkened screen in my hand.
Controversial.
The word echoes in my head as I grip the phone tighter in my hand. I don’t want to do this. Not when every part of me screams that it’s wrong.
Dragging in a deep breath, I force myself off the bed, desperate for coffee to clear my head so I can figure out a way to escape this. But the moment I pad into the kitchen, I freeze in the doorway on seeing Landon standing there.
The room is dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the small overhead lamp above the counter. It casts enough light for me to see the slight hunch in his shoulders, the phone held loosely in his hand, his gaze fixed on the screen. His features look vulnerable in a way I’m not used to seeing.
Before I can ask if something’s wrong, a tiny voice crackles through the speaker, and my heart gives way so suddenly it almost hurts.
“Dada.”
My breath catches, my hand flying to my chest. Liala has never called him that before.
He doesn’t notice me at first, too caught up in replaying the clip over and over, his lips trembling as though he’s holding his breath.
Then, as if he senses my presence, his head lifts.
His eyes meet mine in the dim light, and for a fleeting moment, every wall I’ve built around myself just crumbles.
He isn’t the man who broke me. He’s just a father. My daughter’s father.
“Anna.” His voice is husky with emotion, and then he’s crossing the space between us in a quick stride, holding the phone out like a prize he can’t wait to share. His fingers shake as he presses the screen close to my ear.
“She—she called me Dada,” he whispers, his breath catching. “For the first time.”
Tears sting my eyes, and my throat tightens. “She... she did.” My voice cracks. It’s impossible not to feel it too. And I can’t hold back the smile that breaks through, the warmth of the moment spreading in my chest.
He swallows hard, his eyes shining as he eases back and sinks onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. His thumb hovers over the replay button like he can’t stop himself. And then he plays it. Again. And again. Each time, his expression is the same—full of disbelief, awe, and reverence.
I quietly move to sit opposite him and fold my hands on my lap. “Hey.”
His gaze lifts to mine, and something fragile flickers there before he lets out a sigh. “I never had perfect parents, Anna.”
I nod softly. I’ve always known that his parents were distant, cold beneath all their wealth and status. But he’s never gone beyond passing mentions, and I never pushed. I wanted him to come to me when he was ready.
He looks down at the counter, his jaw tight.
“They weren’t just distant. They were… selfish.
Cruel, in their own way. Affairs, lies… they didn’t care who saw.
They’d bring people home, Anna. Into our house.
Into their marriage bed. And one time…” His voice falters, and he drags a hand over his face.
“One time I walked in on my father. With the housemaid.”
My heart twists painfully. What must it be like for a little boy stumbling into that? Somewhere, it explains so much about the skeletons he must be battling, especially when it comes to relationships, love and trust.
“I told myself I’d never be like them. But the older I got, the more terrified I became that I might be exactly like them.
That I’d eventually turn into them.” His knuckles whiten around the phone.
“And when I pushed you away, when I let us break… a part of me thought maybe it was inevitable. Maybe I was like them, after all.”
“No.” The word bursts out of me before I can stop it. My chest aches, but I lean forward, needing him to hear me. “Landon, you are not like them. Not even close.”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he cannot believe what I’m saying.
“You were the perfect husband,” I add.
He scoffs, almost mocking. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I insist, my throat thick. “Yes, you drove me crazy sometimes. You were stubborn, overbearing, and annoying as hell. But you loved me. And no matter what else happened, I never doubted that.”
His breath catches, and his eyes soften as the tension in his face melts away. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the silence stretching between us, heavy with all the things we’ve never said.
Then, quietly, he says, “I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy or justify what I did. I know—” I place a hand over his lips, stopping him.
“I know.”
He smiles against my fingers. “Will you give me another chance?”
“I did give you one,” I whisper back, my voice barely more than a breath as I drop my hand.
He shakes his head and leans forward. “No. I need one more. One more chance, Anna. To be the man you deserve. To prove I’m not them. To prove I can give you and our daughter the family you both deserve.”
The intensity in his eyes scorches through me, pulling me under.
My throat tightens as tears spill over, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter to stay upright.
I don’t know if I can survive another chance with him, or if I’ll make it out whole after that.
I don’t know if I want to run… or fall all over again.
All I know is that every part of me wants to believe him.
But right now, no words can express what I feel. There’s only one answer I can give.
With my heart pounding, I lean toward him and press my lips to his.
It’s soft at first, unsteady, a doubt and a confession tangled into one. His breath hitches against mine, and then his hand comes up, cradling my jaw, holding me as if I might slip away. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search mine, desperate for my answer.
“Anna…” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges.
“Make love to me,” I breathe, my words shaky but certain.