Page 18 of Wilt

Not because I’m not a monster. I am.

No, when I touch her, I want her to know what’s happening. I want her to want it, wantme. I have to say, violating a non-consenting woman has never been my jam.

Begging for me against all better judgment? Now, that holds so many delicious opportunities. If the woman in question is the delicate rose upstairs, the opportunities areendless.

“Boss?” I don’t look up at the voice; it’s one of my trusted men.

“News?” He knows I won’t be happy if he interrupted me

“They’ll all be attending tomorrow night.”

I smile as footsteps approach and pause at the door. This time, I glance his way. Rush pushes past, looking around curiously. “Who’s coming?”

“Anders?” I ask Tommy, ignoring Rush for the moment.

“Everyone,” he confirms. When he does, Rush pulls out the chair opposite me and sprawls into it, legs splayed out in front of him.

“So, Nikolai. Let me ask you a question.”

I snort as Rush looks at me, almost expecting a fight. “Can I stop you?”

He cracks a smile at my clear annoyance. “No.”

We’re in one of the affluent areas of Queenstown, a sprawling East coast city, one that holds a multitude of opportunities for the debauchery Rush loves. That’s the problem—he’s here instead.

“Don’t,” he spits. “Don’t look at me like that. My evening’s shot. So, here I am.”

I snort again at Rush’s annoyance. “You don’t even head to the first club until now.”

He flashes a smile. “Excitement quota filled.”

“I’m busy.” I give him a pointed look as he continues to sit, even at my obvious attempt to wave him off. “You had a question?”

Rush chuckles. “Oh, yeah.Are you fucking insane? Anders? As in Harvey of the Anders gang? Our rivals, chummy with Derek Finnegan? Who spawned the princess you took?”

He’s not concerned about her, I know. He’s loyal to me and his heritage, would follow me to the grave, but this revenge isn’t in him, not the way it’s in me. It’s seared into my soul. “This is for your parents. You. My family, Rush.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Hey, I know and I’m not interfering. But du—” He stops, taking in my raised eyebrow. “Nikolai, it’s dangerous. What if he sees her?”

I smile slowly. “I’m counting on it.”

Rush just groans. “He’ll leverage it, I promise. He’ll tell Finnegan, or at least someone will.”

“Finnegan’s an arrogant, heartless bastard, but I’m smarter. He can’t get to me, not without starting a war. Why the fuck do you think he hasn’t been taken out already?” I tap my fingers on the desk. “I want the message sent that I have her and she’s mine.”

Rush shakes his head at my declaration. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I sigh internally, thinking of that sweet, hot mouth—so do I.

* * *

The next evening, everything is ready. I’ve left her alone, had her meals sent up by a maid. With her first two, I left a blood-red rose on the tray, hand cut, exquisitely perfumed. Both times, the maid trembled as she showed me the bite or two my Rose took and the utterly destroyed roses. I’m not sure whether to laugh or be impressed—Rosalind has no fucking clue what I’m capable of.

Dinner came back untouched, three roses drowned in her water. That unexpected element carries a charged tone that tempts me, but I have a plan to follow. Moving the garment bag carrying her dress to my other arm, I unlock her door and step in.

She’s on the bed, an absolute mess and yes, even with the smeared heavy makeup, tangled hair, and tear tracks, I’d do her. Instead, I barely spare her a glance as I lay her things on the armchair. “I’d have sent these up earlier, but considering your… defilement of my gifts, I didn’t want to take the chance.”

She sneers at me. “Fuck you and your sick gifts.”

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