The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance 3)

“Gregory,” she called, then turned to Landon, he presumed to apologize or thank him. She did neither, instead froze in place, her mouth opened in a stunned gape.

Chicago was a big city. Because of that undeniable fact, the odds of running into someone he knew were slim. Slim, but not none. Apparently, considering he now stood eye to eye with his girlfriend from college.

Rachel.

Dressed in what could only be described as a power suit, Rachel Hannigan looked every bit the cutthroat lawyer she’d aspired to become when they’d dated. Her dark hair was cut into a sharp bob, her mouth—now that she’d closed it—a flat red line. The tightness around her eyes made him wonder if she ever smiled.

Only then, she did.

“Landon.” A professional smile.

Stunned, he continued to hold the door as a patron exited the restaurant. She stepped aside to let the other man pass.

“How are you?” he asked automatically. Numbly. Fucking Rachel. Unbelievable.

She nodded, a typical non-answer to the throwaway greeting. “This is my son, Gregory.” She palmed the boy’s shoulder and the kid lifted his head, hair sweeping his forehead and falling over his sunglasses.

He studied the teen’s sandy-colored hair, rangy build, and slouchy skater-wear. He couldn’t see his eyes and found himself wondering if they were hazel. Like his own. Landon swallowed, his gut churning, mind reeling.

“He turned fourteen today.” Rachel gave him a meaningful eyebrow raise. In other words: He’s not yours.

Landon’s lips twitched. It was a bitter smile. And the wrong time and place to resurrect that demon. He flicked his eyes back to Gregory who tapped on the screen of his phone, utterly undeterred. Another diner exited between them, giving a surly “Excuse me” as she passed by, clearly annoyed that they were clogging the entrance.

“Good to see you,” Rachel lied. He could see the untruth in every rigid muscle in her face.

He refused to echo it. “Happy birthday, Gregory.”

The kid tossed his hair out of his eyes and muttered “Thanks” as Rachel slid her sunglasses onto her nose and waved for a cab.

Landon turned and walked inside, his legs shaky. He felt like he’d taken a two-by-four to the gut. For one scant, surreal moment, he’d thought Rachel had lied to him sixteen years ago. That instead of terminating her pregnancy, she’d kept the child they’d created. Had moved to her aunt’s house, not because she wanted to finish school at a different college like she’d claimed when she left him, but to have the baby. Their baby. For a split second, he’d thought I’m a father.

Then Rachel had set him straight. He turned fourteen today.

Definitely not his.

Otto waved a gnarled hand from a corner booth in the crowded, dim steakhouse. Landon strode over and sat across from the man. He wondered if Otto had children. Grandchildren. The waitress brought two Old Fashioneds while Otto complained about the heat, and Landon lifted the disgusting drink and downed half of it in one putrid swallow.

The older man watched, his untamed, wiry eyebrows shooting in all directions. “Easy, son, we have to make a toast,” he said, cheeks red from the last Old Fashioned he’d drank.

Son. Landon nearly laughed.

“To Windy City and Downey Design.” Otto raised his glass. As their glasses clinked, he added, “And leaving a legacy.”

He was talking, of course, about the legacy of his potato chip business. The mark on a town his family had inhabited for at least the last century. None of which would have been possible if there were no future or past generations to start and finish it.

Otto continued to jabber on about his various body aches and how his doctor recommended he stop drinking. “The drink is the only thing I look forward to,” he said gruffly as he studied the menu.

Landon stabbed the cherry at the bottom of his glass with the plastic straw, and there, in the last place he’d expected to find himself, in the oddest company for such a poignant moment, he had an epiphany.

It was a thought he’d never imagined entertaining again. But it was there, and as real and solid as the glass in his hand.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was unfair to show up like this. Just barge into Landon’s office unannounced. He was a busy man. A man who—

“May I help you?”

Kimber turned to the smiling secretary, a woman in her fifties with dyed orange hair and a flowery blouse.

Too late to run now.

“I’m here to see Landon Downey. I wasn’t sure if I needed an appointment. I guess I could call him.” She should have called him. Only she hadn’t known she was coming to see him until she stepped into his building. She’d gone out shopping today and then found herself wandering. Like a moth to the flame…