Page 17 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

“But how?”

She lifted her chin. “By having better cards than you.”

“Yes, that would be the assumed way. But you also won the game at the casino in Vegas. In Capri. And then again in Monte Carlo.”

“You saw me.”

“I always see you.” It was like the world stopped, right then. And she would be just fine if it never started again. His voice lowered, his eyes meeting hers. “Redhead, brunette.” He reached out and touched her hair. “Raven’s wing. It doesn’t matter. You are not an easy woman to forget.”

She was a woman who couldn’t forget. She had often wondered what it would be like to have the sort of brain that protected you from trauma. From pain. That shielded you from what you’d seen or heard.

She would never know.

She had a clear accounting of all of it, filed away forever. A constant cluttering of details in her mind, no matter what.

But she would be happy to remember this.

To remember him telling her that she was hard to forget.

“If I give you my name, you must swear you will not let it get out. You must protect me.”

“Darling, this will be in the news.”

She knew that what he said was true, and that there was no way around it.

“And that’s fine. My father... My father will not pay attention to a news story about the duke losing his family home, but if my name appears...”

“Jessica Lockwood will be your name as far as the public is concerned. But I want to know your real name.”

Just then the doors opened. They walked out into an empty hall, and he paused in front of the door, pressing a key card to it, and she heard the lock give.

They walked into a modern-looking penthouse, so different than the rest of the estate home.

But clearly, the upstairs had been remodeled as a place for guests to stay.

“You have my word,” he said, turning to face her. “I have no wish to harm you.”

“Why would I believe that? Why would I believe it given that you just lost a game today, and you accused me of being a con artist?”

He treated her to another wicked grin. “Because one con artist recognizes another.”

She scoffed. “You’re not that good.”

“I’m only not that good if I intended to win. Tonight... Tonight I intended to lose. My entire life is a con, lass. Make no mistake.”

The way he said that, the way his Scottish accent rolled over the syllables, sent a shiver through her body.

This was all so dangerous, and the danger of it made her heart beat faster, but not with fear.

She wanted to remember tonight.

She wanted this last night to be bold and bright forever.

“Keep me safe,” she whispered, “and you can have what you failed to win.”

He lifted a brow, and then walked over to a bar in the corner. He picked up a decanter of whiskey, poured a measure of it and took a drink. “Are you offering me your body?”

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

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