Page 117 of Legacy
“Am I?”
He steps in front of me. His eyes sure.
“Do you think you made it out of Colombia with those emeralds on yourown?”
The mention of Colombia sends ice through my veins. The memories rushing back. I almost didn’t make it out, but men saved me.
On motorcycles they—
My breath catches as I stare at him.
He continues, his fingers sliding across the edges of the photo I just held.
“Do you think Russell just decided to leave you before proposing?”
“Russell…” I murmur, the name slipping from my lips. “Is he—”
I can’t even speak it.
Angelo’s expression softens, but there’s a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. “I gave him a job,” he says quietly. “One that took him away from you before he could propose.”
The air is knocked out of me. I stumble back, gripping the edge of the desk as the weight of his confession slams into me.
“You’ve been dictatingeverything,“ I whisper, my voice trembling with fury. “You… you ruined my life,”
“No,” he says fiercely, stepping closer, his voice breaking. “Isavedyou. He wasn’t right for you, Adriana. None of them were. You’re mine. You’vealwaysbeen mine.”
Tears well and I can’t stop them.
“Angelo—”
He steps forward.
I step back until my spine hits the wall.
He crowds me, his hands cupping my face and I freeze. I’m eighteen again outside the conference room and he’s about to call me a mistake, but instead—
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes boring into mine pupils blown. “You deserve better than me. But I’m selfish, Adriana, so goddamn selfish when it comes to you. You were never a mistake. You were always the one.
My tears fall without my consent and he presses his lips to them.
I can’t breathe.
My brain goes blank.
My heart is in my throat.
“Angelo, stop...” My words are weak, barely above a whisper, but he freezes instantly. His face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. He pulls back just enough for me to look into his eyes and I see it then—a raw desperation that I don’t understand.
“I can’t.”
My hands press to his chest and I shove him back hard. He moves and I can’t control the tears or the rage as I swipe at the pictures of myself and shove them off the desk onto the ground. I grab my perfume bottle and throw it against the wall, the glass pieces shattering.
The room engulfed in the scent of dark cherries.
My breaths are coming fast and hard and Angelo— is on his knees picking up each photo.
“What thehellare you doing?” His eyes flick to mine. “I know you’re angry, buttheseare mine.”
