And I know she means it. Because the other thing about Anna is that while she’s got the fire to prove herself, the moment something pushes past her limit, she shuts down that fire and stops caring about proving anything at all. It’s one of the things I’ve hated and admired about her in equal measure.
I hold her gaze for a long beat before finally nodding. “Alright.”
“What’s your biggest addiction?” She flips to the next question and drops her gaze to the tablet without sparing me a glance.
You.The word burns at the tip of my tongue, but I know better than to let it slip aloud. Saying it out loud would only make her run for the door, and I’m not about to let that happen.
“My work,” I answer in a crisp tone, exactly the professionalism she expects from me.
She scribbles on her tablet with her stylus before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “What’s the one thing you’re proud of?”
Again, what I want to tell her is that I’m fucking proud of her, proud of the fierce, successful journalist she’s become. But I know that’s not the answer she’s looking for. God, I fucking didn’t realize an interview could feel like a battlefield with every word measured like a weapon.
I take a steady breath and let the second truth slip out. “My team. Every project I’ve taken on… none of it would have been possible without the people I trust. Building that kind of loyalty… that’s the one thing I’d never trade for anything.”
“What’s your dream destination?”
“Maldives,” I answer, and just like I expected, her lips curve, not in amusement, but in that quiet, knowing way that says shedoesn’t buy a single word of it. She knows I hate beaches, but I said it anyway, because I know how much she loves them. And even though I can’t answer her question the way I want to, I can still have this… rattling her, even if only a little.
“Beach,” she mutters, clearly annoyed.
I let the corner of my mouth lift. “Why, you don’t think I’m the type to like beaches?”
She glares at me, like she’s about to snap back, but instead she straightens and says, “Mr. Hayes, I don’t know you well enough to know what you like.”
“I didn’t know fake amnesia was a thing,” I can’t help but comment.
“What’s that one decision you made that changed your life?” She fires the next question, ignoring my comment.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Marrying my wife.”
Her grip tightens on the stylus. “Mr. Hayes, I warned you—”
I hold up a hand, stopping her. “I didn’t mention your name.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Fine.” My tone shifts. “If this interview is only about the corporate version, then… opening my first hotel.”
She moves on quickly. “What do you want people to know about you?”
I lean in, locking onto her gaze, refusing to let her look anywhere else. “That when I want something, I fight for it. And if anyone dares to get in my way or take what’s mine,” I let my eyes linger on her, “they’ll have hell to pay. No exceptions.”
She swallows, her gaze dropping to the tablet for a moment before she forces herself to meet my eyes again. “If you could change one thing about your past, what would it be?”
I don’t blink. I know she wants professionalism, but I’ll be damned if I let my heart stay silent for this one. “Letting my wife go.”
Her hand freezes on the screen, and for a moment, I think she’s going to throw the tablet at me. Not that I don’t deserve it.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she straightens, lifts her chin, and says quietly, “That’s all I have.”
I frown. “That’s it?”
“Yes. Forty-five minutes. Over.” She scoops her bag off the floor and shoves her tablet into it.
I nod, keeping my gaze locked on her, my mind racing.How the hell do I make her stay?I briefly think about tying her up, but no. That won’t help me win her back. It would just make her angrier, and she’d fight me even more.
She can feel the heat of my stare. I know it, yet she won’t give me the satisfaction of squirming. She simply pushes her chair back and stands.
