Page 60 of Deal Breaker
I’m already standing near the elevators when the doors slide open, and I see her. Black trousers with a Cove tee and a blazer rolled to her sleeves. Her hair is pulled back into the bun she always wears to work. She looks polished, efficient, controlled. And so beautiful that I’m not 100 percent sure I’m still breathing.
She’s in work mode now, her armor back on, but when her eyes flicker to mine I can see she knows I haven’t forgotten last night. Neither has she.
“Morning,” she says lightly, falling into step beside me.
“Morning,” I return, and it comes out rougher than I mean for it to.
She’s holding a paper coffee cup, her fingers wrapped tightly around it.
“We’ve got back-to-back panels today,” she says. “Lunchwith the tech consultant, then that pitch meeting with the outdoor gear group.”
I nod. “And we’ll want to loop in the sustainability team before the cocktail hour.”
She glances up at me. “Already sent a note to Becca. She’s lining up the notes we need.”
Of course she did. She’s three steps ahead, and it doesn’t surprise me. That’s the Landyn I’ve always known, only now I can’t stop wondering who else she is, what parts of her I’m still not seeing.
The day passes in a blur of panels, meetings, networking, and pitch sessions. Landyn handles every conversation like she was born for this. Polished. Poised. Smart enough to answer every question, charming enough to make people forget why they were skeptical in the first place. She’s good and Cove looks even better with her out front. We sit beside each other all day, nodding through presentations, fielding questions, leaning in close to whisper the occasional strategy call. Her scent makes it hard for me to think straight, and every time her arm brushes mine it becomes more difficult to remember this is supposed to be professional. And even though her voice is steady, even though she laughs in all the right places, I know something’s off. I can’t shake the feeling that whatever it is she’s holding back has something to do with me. With us.
By the time we get back to the resort, the sun is low, casting a warm, golden haze over the mountains. The cocktail hour is already set up on the terrace—string lights glowing above linen-draped tables, small fires crackling in sleek stone pits. The vibe is relaxed. Glasses clink. Laughter floats. Everyone’s loosened their ties and dropped their inhibitions.
Everyone except us.
Landyn’s across the terrace, talking to one of the event coordinators, her fingers twisting the stem of the glass of white wine in her hand. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She must feel me looking at her, because her eyes suddenly meet mine and it hits me square in the chest. Tonight might be my last shot at getting through to her. I’m not walking away without at least trying.
I pick up my drink and cross the patio, pulled to her like a magnet. The expression on her face is unreadable, but she’s antsy, fingernail absentmindedly tapping the rim of her wine glass.
“You look like you’re considering an escape,” I say, nodding toward the doors behind her.
Her mouth curves. “How far do you think I could get in these heels before one of the presenters tackles me to talk about supply chain management?”
“You’d make it 10 feet. Maybe less.”
“I’m scrappy,” she replies, lifting her glass and taking a sip. “You forget that.”
“I already told you, Lan. I don’t forget anything.”
That slows her. She tries to cover it with a sip of wine, but I catch the breath she pulls in first. The light out here is soft, casting a hazy, golden glow, and for a second, it’s easy to forget the people around us, the clinking glasses, the quiet hum of conversations. It’s just her. Just us.
“Today went well,” she says, filling the silence. “You didn’t glare at the analytics guy even once.”
“Barely gave me a reason to,” I say, stepping in just a little closer. “I had a good buffer.”
Her lips press together like she’s fighting a smile, but I don’t want to talk about work. Not tonight. I gesture toward an unoccupied fire pit. “Walk with me?”
She hesitates, eyes narrowing just slightly, but then she nods. We move toward the edge of the terrace and for a moment just stand together, looking out at the mountains, silhouetted against the colors of the dusk sky. The firelight casts a warm glow across her skin, moving through the waves of her hair. We sit on an outdoor couch, so close that our knees touch.
“So, how are you really?” I ask.
She glances at me, surprised.
“After everything,” I add. “Coming back. Walking into Cove. Working next to me.”
She’s quiet for a beat. Then, “It’s been…a lot.”
I nod. “For me too.”
