Page 5 of Dirty Legacy

He leans back in his chair again with a sigh. “So it was a mistake then.” He sounds… strangely disappointed.

I nod, feeling small and stupid. “I know that sort of thing is inappropriate in the workplace. I never should have kept them on my work laptop. I’ll delete the folder, I swear.”

“That’s a shame.” He crosses his arms. My eyes catch on them, on the ink visible, the veins and the muscle. Two words in black, wrapped in ivy and flowers, cut through with a sword. Family-Death.

“What’s a shame?” I ask, lips numb, chest heaving.

“Deleting all these pictures. You’re very good at photographing yourself, Ms. Bellandi. Exceptional.”

“Thank… thank you.” I bite my lip, aware that this is straying into dangerous territory. He should not be saying anything remotely like that. HR would burn him to the ground and he’s practically begging for a sexual harassment lawsuit.

And yet… my cheeks are flushed red and his praise is like a fireworks display in my heart.

After Brad dumped me for Lavender Lane, I’ve been feeling like a slug smashed into a messy pulp. My self-esteem is practically in the gutter.

But if a man like Connor Maguire finds me attractive…

No, stop, this is stupid and weird!

“I’m aware of the situation we’re in right now, Ms. Bellandi. There is a… power imbalance in this room.” He says those words like he enjoys them. His lips tug into the barest hint of a smile, but his eyes remain hard. It’s terrifying and arousing all at once. I lick my lips, hands shaking. “I’m going to ask you something, and if you say no, you can turn around and leave this office with no repercussions. Your photos will be deleted. The email will disappear. It will be as if this little mistake never happened. Do you understand?”

I nod, a whimper deep in my throat. I know what’s coming next. I know what he wants by the way his eyes graze down my body, simmering with heat and lust. He glances at the screen again, and I know what he’s seeing. That’s me, my breasts, my mouth, my legs.

He looks back and I know he’s comparing, weighing, judging, wondering: does she really look like that under all her frumpy clothes?

Under that too-big sweater? Those thick dress slacks? The ugly shoes?

Yes, asshole, I really freaking do.

“What do you want to ask me, Mr. Maguire?”

I don’t know why I say it. Like I’m challenging him. Like, screw you, asshole, I really am hot. I can be sexy! Sometimes! Under the right circumstances! And sure, maybe my ex told me I give head like I’m trying to clean a drain with my teeth (whatever that means) but he can kick rocks and screw himself.

Connor Maguire’s hands press against his desk as he stands. Crap, I forgot how tall he is. Big and broad, a massive hulking brute of a man. How does he even fit in this room? He’s so out of place in an office, it’s like a joke. He should be in a ring beating another man to a pulp or something, covered in blood and brains, reveling in death and broken bones.

“I have an hour open in my schedule this evening. Would you like to recreate one of these poses for me, Ms. Bellandi?”

Oh, shit.

I knew it was coming. Maybe not that, exactly, but something like it.

This man wants me.

There’s no denying the lust-dripping hunger in his eyes.

And maybe under other circumstances, I’d be repulsed, but not tonight. Not with Connor Maguire. And he’s right, there’s a power imbalance… but for some sick reason, that makes this so much hotter.

It’s wrong. This situation, it’s everything I should hate.

I’m a good person. I follow the rules. I do the right thing, always, a living contrast to my nightmare of a mother, to my deadbeat father, to my loser ex-boyfriend.

Good girls don’t get themselves into situations like this one.

Good girls get the hell out of the office when the Big Boss propositions them.

But I’ve been good for a long time, and it hasn’t gotten me anything but dumped, abused, taken advantage of, and ignored.

Right now, for the next hour, good can go ahead and screw itself.