Page 6 of Dirty Legacy

“Which were you thinking?” I whisper, heart racing wildly, right up into my throat.

Connor’s expression barely reacts. It’s like he knew what I’d say.

He comes around the desk, his body shockingly powerful and well-built. I step back, afraid he’s going to touch me and also desperately wanting him to, but he moves past, to the door, and turns the lock.

It clicks home with a sharp thud.

Oh, god. For a brief moment, I think I’m stuck. Trapped again. Metal all around. Heat, screams, broken glass, blood. No, I’m not there, I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m safe.

He pauses, going still, brows tugging down. “Are you alright? I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Ms. Bellandi. I’m only making sure nobody interrupts.”

“It’s okay.” I drift to the couch and sit on the edge. “I have trouble with enclosed spaces sometimes.”

“Should I open the lock?”

“No, no, it’s really… it’s okay.” I drag in a stumbling breath through my nose and smooth my palms over my thighs. “You were going to tell me which image you like best.”

His smile is wicked. It’s delicious, filled with promise, and terrifying. I want to laugh and scream. Who is this girl right now? I don’t recognize myself reflected in his gaze.

“The one I showed you. Stay right there. Top off. Legs spread. I want you to look at me the way you looked at that camera. Was that photo for a boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” I don’t move, heart pounding, adrenaline spiking. “Are you going to…”

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

I look down at my feet. “I mean, are you going to take my picture?”

“No, angel, I won’t.”

I stiffen. Nobody calls me angel. “Just Angie.”

“You keep calling me Mr. Maguire. Whenever you’re ready, angel.”

Asshole. I look up again, dizzy with excitement and nervous energy, and it’s now or never. I have to make a call. Get up, run away, maybe always regret never having a shot at being with a man like Big Boss⁠—

I reach down and tug my sweater over my head.

One smooth motion. I toss it aside, trembling with nerves.

Connor watches from across the room, rapt. His attention is intoxicating. I unbutton my slacks, kick off my shoes, and lift my hips. Slowly, I take my pants off.

And show him the purple panties.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his mouth open.

I can’t stop the smile. Yeah, sometimes life works out. I don’t normally wear the sexy stuff to work but I forgot to do laundry.

“Your lucky day.”

“You have no idea, angel.” His voice is laced with desperate want. It’s incredible, hearing a man like him talk like that.

Like I’m worth wanting. Like he’s going to collapse if he doesn’t see more of me.

Boring, good-girl Angie.

His angel.

Confidence floods me. I’ve never felt this way in my life, not a single time. I’m a nothing girl from nowhere New York, an anonymous nobody with a two-year degree and a dim future. I should never, ever command the attention of a man like Connor Maguire.