Time-Limited Love: A Contract Expired, Not Renewed novel Chapter 61

He was never like this before—just two or three words, and his impatience would flare so plainly on his face.

Maybe it was because no one had ever challenged him like this. Landon looked genuinely unsettled.

His jaw was clenched tight, the effort it took to hold himself in check written all over him.

His lips, always a little cold and unsmiling, were pressed into a hard line, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

Zinnia was sure he’d storm off any second, but somehow, Landon managed to keep it together.

“If it’s uncomfortable for you, then don’t wear it,” he said at last.

His tone had softened. There was a muffled note to it, and a trace of wounded pride after Zinnia’s indifference.

She simply murmured a quiet “Mm,” offering nothing more.

At that moment, the door to the private dining room swung open again.

A waiter in a crisp tailcoat glided in, pushing a cart with their dinner, the strains of a violin drifting in from the corridor.

He laid out their food with practiced care, murmured a polite “Enjoy your meal” in French, then retreated with a graceful nod.

Zinnia had never really liked Italian food, but she forced herself to take a few bites. She hated wasting food, after all.

Across the table, Landon spoke again. “Is it to your liking?”

His voice was even gentler now, almost tentative.

Zinnia could feel her irritation rising again.

She set her fork down and looked across at Landon’s carefully composed face.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she said quietly.

Her words made Landon stiffen. His hand tightened unconsciously around his cutlery.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally managed, “and I realize I’ve let you down—especially because of Noelle. I organized this dinner so I could say I’m sorry. Properly.”

Zinnia fell silent.

She looked at him, and he looked right back—those eyes that could so easily draw someone in, now watching her with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

Zinnia waited for some feeling to surface.

But as she listened to Landon’s earnest apology, she felt nothing. No bitterness, no anger. No hurt, no sadness. And certainly no joy or surprise.

Just calm, as if she’d been emptied of emotion altogether.

“What’s done is done,” she said at last. “You’ve apologized. I accept. Let’s not bring up the past again.”

Her tone was as flat as still water, not a ripple of emotion in it.

But Landon, hearing that unruffled voice, caught something else—a hint of distance, and a quiet rejection.