“Rosalind Germaine,” the announcer calls, and my heart beats a little faster in anticipation.
My turn.
I square my shoulders and step out into the blinding spotlight.
Chapter2
Nikolai
She’s fucking stunning.
The thought has plagued my head since I saw her in the foyer.
Fucking stunning.
Honestly, when I got the tip that a girl who looked like Derek Finnegan was here, I didn’t think it would be anything. After all, the world is full of dark haired, blue-eyed girls. Plus, everyone believed Steph and her daughter were long dead, most likely at the hands of one of Finnegan’s many enemies, or even Finnegan himself. I wouldn’t put it past the heartless bastard to kill his own flesh and blood.
Fuck Finnegan. Fuck every single person associated with him. Fuck his spawn to hell and back.
I sit in the back of the theater, bored as could possibly be, as the girls on stage fake being humble as pie. These interviews remind me of horses paraded out for breeding, or maybe cows for slaughter. It’sexcruciatingly boring.
Even as my eyes glaze over at the latest cookie-cutter answer, my gaze lingers onher.
When I spotted her in the foyer, it was easy to look past her beauty. I couldn’t really see her face beyond the curve of her cheek and full lips, lips begging to be kissed, or better yet, wrapped around a cock. Her body was mostly hidden by her baggy outfit; she looked so out of place, I wasn’t sure if it was really her.
Now, I am.
Gone is the fucking hoodie pulled up to protect her hair. She’s dressed instead in red; it’s a taunt, a signal, a siren song of innocence and sin.
I know the last one well. Innocence, though? I don’t come across it much in my line of work, but there she is, looking like a female version of my nemesis, the man I hate most in the world.
There’s a little of her mother there—the shape of her mouth, her slender curves, the arch of her brows—but it’s not enough to save her. This Rosalind is beautiful and young, but very much Finnegan’s child.
I want to paint her an idiot, a self-centered fool who wants the world to fawn over her looks because she’s too stupid to cultivate anything but beauty. That, however, would be a mistake; perhaps even a dangerous one.
She’s smart. There’s intelligence in her eyes, a calculated coldness that’s all her father. The way she takes in the other contestants. The way she holds her pose with a smile that appears natural and not stiff. The way she stays focused and calm under stress.
This little rose is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Ironically, she may not even know. I’ve searched for years for Finnegan’s ex-wife and kid. They would’ve been the perfect morsels to use, abuse, and destroy. They were to be my sweet revenge for what that fucker did to me and my family. Unfortunately, they disappeared before I had them in my grasp. No one knew where, not even Finnegan, or so the rumors say.
He may have given up on them, but I never did. The Feds did a good job hiding them in plain sight, because it tookyearsfor me to get here, to this very moment.
Now, the revenge I crave stands only a few yards away.
I hate Finnegan and how untouchable the bastard is, but I’m not the kind of man to forgive and forget. Some might call me a monster: heartless, cruel. I really don’t give a fuck. I’ve fought hard to rise to the top of the Wilders after my uncle’s death, turned us into the crème de la crème of the underworld. We’re a crime family to be reckoned with, a thorn in Finnegan’s side.
Unfortunately, as powerful as we are, taking him out hurts me, too. So instead, I’ve been waiting for just the right thing to bring him to his knees, make him suffer.
I never thought his daughter would still be—in fact—alive.
Her.
This girl now named Rosalind.
After so much wasted time and money, a two page article in a local paper was all it took.
Now, she is all mine, whether she knows it or not.
As she stands steady, readying to answer the interviewer’s questions, I sit back in my chair and take it all in. My insides buzz with anticipation, but I take a calming breath. I’ll have my moment. I know I will.