Landon
My hands ball into fists on my lap as I lock eyes with Anna across the couch. She pulls out her tablet, sets it on her knees, and swipes across the screen with that calm, focused professionalism that shouldn’t affect me… but it does.
All I can think of is ‘How the hell did I ever walk away from her?’
It doesn’t even take a heartbeat before my mind bites back, saying, ‘You’re a damn fool.’ And I don’t even bother arguing with it. One look at her is proof enough.
She has no makeup on. Not that she ever needed it. My beautiful Anna is perfect just as she is. Her hair is knotted in a bun that makes my hands itch to tear it loose, to fist it while she breathes my name. And that outfit? A crisp white shirt tucked tight into tailored pants. Professional. But fuck, it’s killing my control. All I want is to strip it off her, button by button, until I get her naked. God, I want her under me, want to make her forget every reason she hates me while I remind her exactly who she belongs to.
“So, how are we doing the recording?” she asks.
Her voice slices straight through my filthy thoughts, yanking me back to the present.
Ignoring the way my mind is already imagining how she’d sound begging again, I force my eyes off her curves, meet her gaze, and tip my chin toward the corner of the room where the cameras sit. “I’ve taken care of it.”
“Of course you have,” she says, lifting her stylus from the tablet, her tone carefully measured, reminding me she’s not here as my wife but as the journalist ready to tear me apart. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here fighting the urge to tell her how much better she’d look sprawled across my bed without that shirt and those pants.
Her brows lift. “If you’re done staring, can we start and get this over with? We’ve got forty-five minutes.”
I smirk to myself. Forty-five minutes. She’s so damn set on that limit that she even refused a coffee or a glass of water, making it clear she’s here to get the interview and bolt the second she finishes. But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve no intention of letting her walk out of here when the time’s up. I just need to figure out how the hell to make her stay.
I let my gaze drag over her one last time before replying, “Of course. Let’s start.”
Earlier, when I tossed out that bait, I wasn’t exactly playing games. Nope. It’s just that I know Anna too damn well. She’s the kind who’ll walk straight into the fire just to prove she can stand in it. And she did exactly that when I dared her to see if she could handle me.
And now I’m glad I didn’t take the straight road, because it brought her here, in my house, under the same roof.
She nods, all business. “I’ll keep it professional, but if anything’s off-limits, you can say so.”
“Nothing’s off-limits. Ask what you came to ask.”
She arches a brow, a challenge flashing in her eyes like she’s already plotting how to make me regret those words.
But instead, she asks, “Mr. Hayes, you’ve achieved everything most people can only dream of. But is there another big goal you still have in life?”
“To make you mine again.” The words tear out before I can stop them, and too damn honest to take back.
A faint flush colors her cheeks, just enough for me to catch, but then she drags in a slow breath and pulls her walls right back up.
“Mr. Hayes, if we’re doing this, then there are going to be some ground rules.”
God, the way she calls meMr. Hayesmakes me lose my mind. It turns me on and drives me insane in the same breath, making me want to bend her over, spank her, and leave marks she wouldn’t be able to forget.
I furrow my brows, fighting to pull my thoughts back under control. “Rules?”
“Yes,” she replies, her tone sharper now. “I won’t ask you personal questions, and you won’t make this uneasy for me.”
I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees. “Uneasy? That’s one word for it. I call it honest.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “This is an interview, Mr. Hayes. Not some trip down memory lane.”
“We sure can—” I begin, but she shakes her head, cutting me off.
“You’re making this difficult, Mr. Hayes. And if this is what you have in mind, I think I should end this now.”
I catch her pulse throbbing at her throat. Leaning back, I flip one leg over my knee with deliberate ease. “I thought you said you were ready to prove you could handle this interview professionally without being affected by my charm.”
She inhales and exhales deeply before snapping back. “I’m serious, Mr. Hayes. One more remark, and I’ll walk out that door without giving a fuck about what I have to prove. My sanity comes before bending to your immature games.”
