Landon had cooped himself up at home all day, driving him mad. When Amelia finally returned, he was practically vibrating with pent-up frustration.

The moment she stepped into the room, he let loose in his mind: “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Do you need something?” Amelia asked casually, rifling through the wardrobe for her pajamas to get ready for a shower. Half the wardrobe was now full of her clothes. Her eyes landed on the rows of new outfits hanging neatly—designer pieces, all brand new and absurdly luxurious.

Being Landon’s wife had its perks. Materially, she wanted for nothing. Even if Gloria had forgotten to give her an allowance, Amelia wouldn’t ask. She couldn’t bring herself to be that dependent.

To her, their marriage felt tenuous, like a house of cards teetering on a breeze. Relying on herself seemed far safer than clinging to a life that might collapse at any moment.

When she didn’t get an answer from Landon, Amelia glanced back over her shoulder. “Landon? What do you need? If you’ve got something to say, spit it out already.”

Do I need a reason to talk to my wife? Do you even remember you have a husband? His internal grumbling was practically audible.

“You’re acting sulky,” Amelia said, frowning slightly. “I don’t remember you being this chatty before.”

Her comment made him pause. True, he’d never been much of a talker in the past. But now, he relished their conversations.

Maybe three months of lying comatose had made him desperate for any form of connection. Or maybe talking to her mentally was the only way to remind himself that he wasn’t a relic of the past, a fallen king fading into irrelevance. He was still Landon Kingsley, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it.

“I tried to claim the inheritance my mother left me today,” Amelia said, breaking the silence. “Didn’t go well.”

Inheritance? What inheritance? His surprise was immediate. Wait… are you saying Mr. and Mrs. Edwards have… passed?

Amelia shook her head, her gaze distant. “It’s a long story,” she murmured, and then recounted her true lineage.

Landon’s mind reeled. “You’re not Melissa’s daughter?”

“They’ve been plotting against me for that inheritance,” she added, her voice tinged with exhaustion. She sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh and began massaging his legs, her fingers deftly working through the stiffness in his muscles. “Yesterday’s surgery was part of their plan. Everyone’s in on it, ganging up to bully me.”

Her touch was firm but soothing, and he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed it. “The lawyer said you had to be there to sign off or I wouldn’t get the inheritance,” she continued, her tone softening. “So, Landon, wake up soon, okay?”

You think I don’t want to? His inner voice carried a trace of exasperation.

Henry and his family were circling like vultures, their ambitions growing bolder every day he remained bedridden. All the weight had fallen onto Gloria’s shoulders, and Landon was painfully aware of it. He wanted nothing more than to wake up, regain control, and put everything back in order.

“I know you want to,” Amelia said gently, her hands working their way up his legs with practiced ease. Her touch chased away the day’s frustrations, leaving him uncharacteristically relaxed.

Landon allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, offering generously, “When I wake up, I’ll help you get that inheritance—and deal with the Edwards family once and for all.”

“You said it, not me.” Amelia’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes gleaming with a teasing light.

She didn’t entirely believe him, of course. But in moments like this, when life felt like one relentless hardship after another, it was nice to pretend and get a little empathy.

Even if his promise was nothing more than a fantasy to her, the thought of someone standing beside her—even in her imagination—was enough to make her smile.

Amelia’s mood had brightened, and her massage grew more vigorous, her slender fingers kneading with a rhythm that seemed almost hypnotic. Landon internally let out a soft, involuntary hum of contentment, his body relaxing under her touch.

The tension of the day began to melt away, and a pleasant drowsiness crept over him—until her hands ventured dangerously close to the top of his thighs. A strange jolt, like a current of electricity, shot through him, spreading heat in its wake.

In an instant, Landon’s mind snapped awake. Stop. That’s enough. You don’t need to keep going!

“Oh, okay,” Amelia replied nonchalantly, shaking out her hands as though to relieve a bit of soreness. “I’ll massage you again tomorrow. If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll go take a shower.”

Good. Great idea. Landon let out a mental sigh of relief. Her hands were far too soft, and if she’d gone any higher, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

The air conditioning hummed softly in the background, keeping the room comfortably warm, but Amelia seemed unbothered by modesty. Standing by the bed, she began to strip off her clothes, her every move deliberate and unhurried. After all, Landon couldn’t see her.

The sound of fabric rustling against skin filled the quiet room, amplifying in Landon’s mind like an unbearable symphony. Each delicate noise clawed at his nerves, taunting him.

He could practically picture her and feel the movements in his heightened awareness. He could even tell if she was taking off her pants or shirt.

His senses betrayed him, vividly painting the scene in his mind—Amelia’s lithe form, her bare skin catching the dim light as her clothes fell away. It was a torment, sharp and sweet all at once.

The air in the room seemed to get hotter, the warm breeze from the air conditioner suddenly helping the heat rise inside him. Landon’s breathing grew heavier as his body, or at least one part of it, betrayed his restraint. He had a boner again.

Damn it, not again. He didn’t know how many times this had happened since Amelia entered his life. It was infuriating to him. She didn’t even have to try—one accidental brush of her hand, and his body responded like some lovesick fool’s. He felt like a teenager experiencing desire for the first time.

For Landon, the situation was downright mortifying. If something was going to regain function, he figured it should be his entire body. The fact that only that part had decided to stir was a cruel twist of fate that left him mentally gritting his teeth in silent frustration.

Finally, Amelia took off all her clothes and wrapped herself in a towel, disappearing into the bathroom.

Landon exhaled a long breath, attempting to go to sleep and regain some semblance of composure.

But the reprieve didn’t last. The steady rhythm of water cascading against the tiles in the bathroom filled the silence, conjuring images he couldn’t suppress. His mind betrayed him, dragging him back to memories he thought were long forgotten.

There she was, Amelia, her face fresh in his mind as if it were painted there. Her delicate features—smooth skin, vibrant eyes, and lips tinged with a natural, rose-like hue—were enough to leave an impression that no amount of time could erase.

In his memory, she stood in a garden blooming with flowers, her smile as sweet as morning dew, her cheeks tinged with a delicate flush. Those clear, doe-like eyes shimmered with purity and a touch of shyness, making her beauty surpass even the blossoms around her.

He saw her again, from that long-ago banquet. She’d bumped into him, startled like a deer caught in the headlights, stammering out an apology in a voice so soft it barely carried over the noise of the crowd, “I’m sorry…” That girl was Amelia.

The fleeting encounter at the banquet had long been buried beneath the sands of time, forgotten amidst the chaos of his life. Yet now, the memory resurfaced, piercing through the distance of years with startling clarity, as vivid as if it had happened just yesterday.

The recollection was brief, but it held him captive. It looped in his mind, vivid and consuming, pulling him into its depths.

It wasn’t until Amelia finished her shower and slipped into his bed that Landon realized he had spent half an hour replaying a moment that lasted less than three minutes. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d lost his mind.

“Landon, are you asleep?” Amelia’s soft voice broke the silence as she gently nudged him. The fresh, clean scent of her lingered in the air, teasing his senses like a feather brushing against his heart—light, warm, and faintly ticklish.

His instincts screamed at him to feign sleep, to keep the fragile balance of their odd companionship intact. So, he stayed silent, willing his breathing to remain even. But his heart was anything but still.

“It works out pretty well. We both get what we need. And… I know you won’t hurt me,” Amelia muttered softly, her voice barely audible as she nestled closer to Landon.

His warmth was almost intoxicating, seeping into her like a soothing balm. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, it made her feel safe—even a little appreciated.

He’s asleep anyway. He won’t even notice me cuddling up to him, she reassured herself, justifying her actions as she drifted off into slumber right next to him without a shred of guilt.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did nothing to shield the heat radiating between them. Landon, far from unconscious to her touch, was acutely aware of her soft, tentative movements.

The scent of her hair wafted up to him, subtle yet sweet, like a ghost of something familiar and comforting. Her small frame pressed against him with an innocent kind of trust that made his chest tighten—not with annoyance, but with something else entirely.

Maybe… Maybe lonely, wounded souls just need a little warmth, he mused to himself, the corner of his mind brushing against a pang of unexpected tenderness instead of irritation. Her vulnerability, her unspoken need for solace, it stirred something deep within him.

But the brief harmony between them didn’t last. Amelia, in the depths of sleep, proved to be anything but a peaceful bedmate. As she slipped deeper into her dreams, her restlessness took over.

She wriggled closer into his arms, her hands roaming unconsciously until they landed squarely on his abdomen. Her touch was light, exploratory, and utterly unaware of the wildfire it left in its wake.

And her legs took things up a notch, draping lazily over his thighs with a possessive ease that sent Landon’s composure hurtling toward the edge.

She’s… playing with fire, Landon thought grimly, forcing himself to take deep, measured breaths in a futile attempt to calm the situation brewing in his groins. But his body betrayed him, acting instinctively to her unintentional provocation.

His jaw clenched as he fought to keep himself in check, while Amelia, fast asleep in his arms, continued her oblivious quest for the perfect sleeping position.

By morning, he was a wreck. Dark circles framed his closed eyes, evidence of a sleepless night spent battling his own self-control.

Amelia, refreshed and bright-eyed, tilted her head curiously as she leaned over him. “Huh, why do you have dark circles under your eyes?” she asked, tracing her fingers lightly along the edge of his eye socket, her touch both innocent and maddening.

I didn’t sleep well, Landon grumbled internally, his frustration simmering just below the surface. The past two nights of her unconscious torment had left him teetering on the brink of his sanity. It was no surprise that dark circles had taken residence beneath his eyes.

“But… weren’t you sleeping the whole time?” Amelia pressed, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Landon exhaled sharply. Just because my eyes are closed doesn’t mean I’m actually sleeping, he replied internally, his tone laced with annoyance.

“Oh. Then what were you thinking about in the middle of the night if you weren’t sleeping?” She blinked, the realization dawning on her like a bucket of ice water.

Her eyes widened as a memory of her behavior from last night crept back into focus. Wait… he wasn’t asleep last night? And I… I hugged him the whole time? Oh no, no, no-

Landon’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, his tone firm and resolute. “Starting tonight, you’re not allowed in my bed anymore. You’re too restless when you sleep.”

Amelia scrambled for a reply, but words failed her. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the heat rising to her ears. Her embarrassment was written all over her face.