Page 7 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

Just like gambling shouldn’t excite her.

But both did.

She sat down at her assigned table, and smiled at the men around her.

Ewan was not among them; he must be at one of the other tables in the room, but that didn’t matter. It was perfect. She was opening at a table of all gray-haired men who would assume she was even younger than she was, and likely twice as dumb.

She played it up, giggling and making her movements seem nearly childish.

Men loved that.

A woman who acted like a girl but had big boobs. She and Maren had gotten their minds from their father. And their figures from their mother. And she supposed in the absence of any moral character, she should be thankful for those two gifts they had received from their parents.

Because those assets certainly made cons easier.

She lost the first hand deliberately. And then won all over the next two games, advancing to the next table.

Where she cut a swath through the tournament like a shark.

There was so much money. So very much money.

And finally, the room was down to one table. And when she sat down, she felt as if the entire world had been tilted on its axis.

Because there he was.

And no amount of press coverage, of illicitly taken viral videos of him caressing women on dance floors of his clubs, or photographs of him in the media could prepare for the impact of him in person.

Her memory was perfect.

And even her memory hadn’t captured this.

The man was an absolute thirst trap. Which was public knowledge.

But that was all looks. A still photo could never capture this.

The magnetism.

His dark brown hair was pushed off his forehead, and she could see strands of gray, just there at his temples, adding an air of sophistication to the man sitting before her. His blue eyes held anything but sophistication. They were wicked. And filled with promises that made her feel overheated.

The lines around his eyes spoke of secret smiles shared with countless lovers. And she trembled. He didn’t move, and she tried, tried her very best, to remain still, and yet could not. She had a will of iron. She always had. Her brain was always a flurry of activity. It was like that when you could remember everything. Unavoidable.

And yet, because of her memory, it was very difficult to surprise her. She’d seen him before, after all.

Her observational skills were unparalleled. And the speed at which she synthesized all the images in her brain made it so she was always one step ahead.

But right now she was breathless. Right now there was no thought beyond him.

And she could not recall a time when she held just one single thought, not ever, not once in her whole life.

“Hello there,” he said, that rough Scottish accent making her feel as warm as it had the first time she’d heard it.

He knew her.

She could see that.

She pretended.

“Hello,” she said, allowing herself to blush. It was the easiest thing.

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