Page 47 of Dirty Legacy

She leaves and I collapse down on to the couch. What the hell is happening here? They’re powerful people? I don’t have any clue what she means by that, or how Connor’s doing his best, or why I’m here or what he wants or why I’m trapped or⁠—

I breathe deep to keep from spiraling.

The coffee’s good. The yogurt makes me feel somewhat less lightheaded. I’m almost human again when the door opens and my husband strides into the room.

He stops near the end of the bed before he spots me. I stare at him, back straight, perched on the edge of the couch. He’s in a suit like always, though not the attractive one from yesterday. This one’s more understated, still black, still perfectly tailored and fitted to his gorgeous body. He looks like a prince, like he belongs in a place like this, while I feel like a fresh stain on the ceiling.

“I was told you were looking for me.” He says it like this is the most natural state imaginable.

“Are you really keeping me prisoner in here?”

“I gave you free rein of the full wing.”

“That’s not much better.” I stand and take a few steps toward him, but I stop myself.

I don’t know much about Connor. He was a fine boss, but there were always those rumors, and now I’m starting to realize they were all true. He really is as dangerous as everyone said.

Which means I’m in deep trouble.

“The staff will handle your needs. This isn’t going to be forever.”

“But for how long?”

“I don’t know. Until you’re safe.”

“That’s not acceptable.”

“It’ll have to be. Is that everything? I have work to do.”

“Damn it, Connor. You can’t do this to me. What about my mother?”

“She’s safe. I plan on bringing her in shortly.”

I throw my hands in the air. “You don’t know her. She might be alive but she can barely take care of herself. She needs me.”

“Your mother is a full grown woman. If she can’t survive two days without her daughter, she doesn’t deserve to keep breathing.”

“You asshole.” I grab a pillow and fling it at him. It hits his chest and bounces away. He doesn’t even flinch. “My friends are going to worry. You know Nadia from the office? We text every day. I bet she’s already sending out the SOS.”

“I can handle Nadia.”

Panic hits me and I wave my hands at him. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. Please don’t handle her!”

His jawline tightens. “Do you think I’m going to murder your friend?”

“I don’t know what you’re going to do! This is a lot and you haven’t told me anything.”

He comes toward me slowly. His expression smolders, caught in a strange mixture of hate and desire. I back away but end up bumping into the arm of the couch. I’d topple backward, but Connor covers the last few feet between us and catches me by the small of the back, propping me up, my fingers digging into his arms.

“All you need to know is you are safe here, angel. If you need something, anything at all—“ The way he says anything at all sets my skin on fire with an odd, burning pulse. “I will provide it. You already have clothes.”

“Not my own.”

“You’re right. These are better.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Yes.” His grip on me tightens. “You are my wife. You are not my prisoner. But for your own protection, you have to stay in this wing of the house.”