Legally Not Yours

The Blackmail

POV: Leah

Jared Connors had made it his personal mission to haunt every hallway I ever seemed to exist in. And it wasn’t some subtle lurking, either. No, he was an expert in making his presence known.

One afternoon, I was hurrying toward the ethics wing when I saw him standing there. Leaning, as usual, as if he had all the time in the world to waste.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Stalking is a crime, you should’ve known that, Connors.”

His smirk widened, like a predator sizing up its prey. “So is slander, Rosewood.”

I barely spared him a glance. “I haven’t said anything untrue.”

“Then I’m flattered that you think I’m dangerous.”

“Dangerous? No,” I said, with a dry laugh. “Annoying. That’s what you are. A pest. A persistent, insufferable pest.”

He stepped forward, just a bit too close for comfort, narrowing the space between us. The air seemed to thicken, like something was about to snap.

“Is that what you call this?” His voice lowered, a smooth growl that sent an unexpected chill down my spine. “Annoying?”

“I can also call it pathetic. Is this really the best you can do?” I scoffed and crossed my arms. “You’re trying so hard to control everything around you, you look like a child throwing a tantrum.”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned like he had just won some unseen prize. “Careful, Rosewood. You’re getting worked up.”

“You’re not that special,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

His eyes gleamed with something like amusement. “You keep telling yourself that.”

I didn’t know why I let him get under my skin, but there was something about the way he spoke to me—something unsettling that both frustrated and intrigued me.

I got away from him hoping that he would leave me alone but I was wrong. He followed me back to my desk, trying to give me trouble.

Huncing over my desk, I tried to get through a mountain of paperwork, when I heard his voice cutting through the quiet office room.

“Five days,” he said, his tone casual, like he was discussing the weather. “That’s all you’ve got left.”

I didn’t look up from the files in front of me. “Is this where you growl and slam a table to intimidate me?”

He chuckled softly. “I don’t need theatrics.”

I could hear him moving around the room, probably leaning against one of the counters.

“We’re still the main topic of the week, you know,” he continued slightly whispering, like he was savoring the drama that people will hear the whole conversation. “I know you hate it, but too bad. I’m loving every second of the attention.”

The words stung more than I was willing to admit. I didn’t want to care, but I did.

I could feel the eyes on me—the whispers behind my back, the hushed tones whenever I passed by. They were all watching to see if I would snap again. Wondering if I could keep my cool, or if I’d finally crack under the pressure.

I could feel my jaw tightening and I had to fight to keep my composure. Jared was leaning against the counter now, his presence felt more than heard.

“Sign the contract,” he said, almost too easily. “I clean your record, and all this... gossip dies down.”

I slammed my file shut, the sudden movement surprising even me. “I’d rather let them talk.”

His grin twisted, knowing. “Really? You think that’ll last forever?”

I grabbed my binder and stood, giving him one last look before turning toward the door. “Get lost in someone’s ass, Connors.”

“You sure about that?” he called after me, his voice following me like a shadow. “You’re walking pretty fast for someone who’s unaffected.”

* * *

I was deep in thought, working through my case notes, when I realized I needed copies of a particular report. It was a thick file—full of complex notes I didn’t want to risk misplacing—and I had to get a copy for the meeting the next morning.

I grabbed it from my desk and headed toward the print room. Big mistake.

Because of course, Jared followed me.

“You know,” he said as he stepped into the room behind me, his voice a little too smooth, “copy rooms are surprisingly underrated for privacy.”

I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t respond, focusing instead on loading the paper tray of the printer.

“Are you ever not disgusting?” I muttered under my breath, trying my best to ignore him.

“Only when I’m focused,” he replied easily, his voice almost too cheerful.

I hit the start button on the copier and the machine hummed to life. As it whirred and hummed, I tried to ignore the way Jared was standing too close, towering over me.

“You’re flushed,” he commented softly, his voice so close to my ear that I could feel his lips on my skin.

“Back off, Connors,” I snapped my head toward him. “It’s just too hot in here.”

“Oh, it’s not the room,” he said, almost teasing. He took a step closer, almost close enough for our shoulders to brush. “You’re wearing your hair up and you only do that when you’re nervous.”

I inhaled sharply, trying to keep my composure. “You need to stop watching me.”

“I’d stop…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “If you weren’t so fun to watch.”

I felt his fingers graze the small of my back as he pretended to reach for the stapler. The sensation sent a shock through my spine.

“Stop touching me,” I said, my voice harder now.

“Why would I?” he whispered back, his voice again so close I could feel the words on my skin. “I like how it makes you tremble.”

I turned to face him fully, my hands bracing against the counter as I shot him a look of pure defiance. “You’re delusional.”

We were eye to eye now. No more space between us, no more talking. The sound of the copier grinding in the background was the only noise that filled the charged silence. Then, he leaned in just enough for his breath to hit my skin.

“Sign the contract,” he whispered, his words too calm, too sure of themselves.

“Get bent.”

“You’re already thinking about it,” he said, voice low and steady.

“Only in your wet dreams,” I hissed.

But then, right in that moment, the copier let out a loud crack-pop. We both turned in sync, just in time to see a coil of smoke escaping from the back panel.

Then—FWUMP.

A small burst of flame shot out from the machine’s tray. I jumped back, a startled cry escaping my lips.

Jared cursed, slamming his hand down on the off switch. “What the hell?” I shouted, panic creeping into my voice as I backed into the counter behind me.

He stared at the machine, blinking as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “That... really wasn’t me.”

“I told you not to touch anything!” I barked, pointing at him.

“I didn’t! Except you.” He said it with a straight face, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Stop saying that!” I snapped.

Just as I finished speaking, the copier let out another weird noise, and the machine suddenly began to rattle.

The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air, and before I could react, it blew up—sending a burst of fire across the office.