Page 9 of Legacy
Warm lighting spills across exposed brick walls and high-beamed ceilings. The open layout is all shadows and softness, art I don’t recognize hanging beside sleek furniture in dark leather and velvet. A scent lingers in the air—cedar, smoke, something like him—wrapping around me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.
It’s everything I didn’t expect.
And all I can think is—I want to stay.
Chapter 3
Angelo
Isee her before she even reaches the bar.
That red dress. Tight. Sinful. Painted on like it was made just to make men lose their minds. She walks like she doesn’t know the power she’s holding, but every head turns. Mine included.
She’s perfect.
The kind of girl you take home for the night. The kind you forget by morning.
I didn’t expect the innocence in her eyes when she turned on the balcony. Didn’t expect the way her lips parted like I’d startled her. There’s a softness there, something untouched, and it makes my blood hum.
Scarlet.
A name like a dare. A promise.
She’s not from this world. Not really. I can feel it in the way she breathes—cautious,curious. Circling the edge of a trap, unaware she’s already inside it.
So I bring her to the loft.
It’s not mine. It belongs to my father’s people, a place they use during stakeouts and go undercover. Soft. Strategic. But I lie, of course. Tell her it’s where I used to stay while going to college. Another easy lie. One she swallows without question.
She looks around with awe in her eyes like she’s stepped into something sacred. I guide her to the plush black sofa in front of the fireplace, where I’ve already uncorked a bottle of rosé. Not for her; just habit. I fill two glasses and hand her one, brushing my fingers against hers deliberately.
She flushes.
That glow,fuck,it’s addictive.
I sit beside her, close enough to feel her tension simmering beneath the surface. She shifts, fingers gripping the stem of her glass too tightly, eyes flicking toward mine then away again.
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to.
Her body’s already telling me everything.
She’s melting. Right on cue.
Nervous? Sure. But I can work with nervous.
I take her glass, set it on the table next to mine. Her breath quickens. I watch her chest rise and fall just a little faster.
She’s not running.
She’swaiting.
I move closer, keeping my eyes locked on hers, those big, wide brown eyes. Her hands twitch in her lap. I smirk.
She wants this. Even if she doesn’t know how to say it.
I lean in, fingers brushing through her curls, tucking a strand behind her ear. She freezes; just for a second. Holds her breath.
And then I kiss her.
