Page 8 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

The easiest thing ever, as she searched his face. She’d memorized every detail the first time she’d seen him. It was what she did.

Every line, every minute piece of him.

And yet, now she did it again. As if she was committing him to memory for the first time.

The green fleck in his left eye, the gold in his right.

The slight impression of a scar on the right side of his upper lip. Not a razor blade. Nothing surgical. A fight. She knew exactly what a scar that came from a fist hitting flesh looked like.

She knew what her memory, what her words, could bring about.

She knew what it sounded like when a girl was being tortured for the sins of her grandfather.

You saved her.

At least there’s that.

But she’d been caused pain, and that couldn’t be erased.

Her eyes dropped down to his hands, the way he touched the deck of cards.

Ewan touched her once...

No, that wasn’t what she should be thinking of.

He wasn’t the dealer. You did not deal your own cards in a game this high stakes. And yet, he was touching the deck of cards and no one had tried to stop him.

“Can I get your name?” He was looking at her as if she was the only other person at the table. There were others.

With her peripheral vision she had taken in every detail of their appearance. They did not signify. They did not register.

It was him and only him.

And she saw something just then. A light in those eyes. A brighter glint to the cold. Something sharper in the green.

He moved around like he was a feckless playboy, like he chanced into his winnings, but he didn’t.

She could see it.

He was a predator, this man.

And he made her shiver.

She watched his hands closely, seeing if anything came out of his sleeves. If there were any extra cards.

“Cat got your tongue, my beauty?”

“No,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I confess I’m a bit overwrought. You are quite famous.”

Her words were breathy, and incredibly false, and she had to wonder if he could sense that.

Maybe he didn’t recognize her.

Her hair had been red when they’d last met.

“Overwrought?” His mouth quirked upward. “You don’t seem the type.”

“Surely that’s something you’re used to. Women losing their powers of speech when in your presence.”

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