She was always pretty, with her pinkish blond hair, turquoise eyes, full blood-red lips and a figure that wouldn’t snap if manhandled too hard. But fast forward fifteen years and she’s fuckingstunning.
What used to be a flaxen bob with wisps curling around an elfin face is now a sleek sheath of flaming sunset caught in a low ponytail that would look perfect wrapped around my fist. Her cheekbones have sharpened and her body has softened into elegant, dangerous curves that draw attention without her even trying.
But it’s her expression that catches me off guard. It’s openand warm, not hardened, or cruel, or manipulative. Not like I would have expected her to be.
She looks out over my club, her fingers tightening nervously around each other as she tries to see beneath the masks. She’s right to be nervous. She has no idea she’s just walked right into the lion’s den, and that over the next few weeks, she’s going to bemauled.
For fifteen years, I built Pfeiffer McAllister into a monster inside my head. I sharpened my memory of her into something venomous just so I’d have somewhere to put the rage. Somewhere to direct the rot she left behind.
But sitting here now, watching her smile politely at Vivienne, who knows exactly why I’ve brought her here, I realize something deeply inconvenient.
There’s no sign of the girl who destroyed me. Only the girl I used to watch from across hallways and crowded classrooms. The girl I wanted so badly back then that hatred became the only thing strong enough to cauterize it.
That somehow makes this worse.
“She’s prettier than the photos.”
Remo’s voice slides across the booth.
“And the grainy security footage,” Cass adds. “But then again, isn’t everyone?”
Brando snorts.
I lift the cigarette to my mouth and take a much-needed drag. She’s doing what no one else dares to do. She’s staring.
When Hallie returns and murmurs something close to her ear, I notice the flush in Pfeiffer’s cheek.
I reach for my whiskey, ignoring my brothers.
Remo leans back slowly, studying me with more attention now. “You think she knows?”
“No.” My answer is absolute. “She has no idea.”
She turns slightly beneath the amber lighting, and for one unbearable second I see the ghost of the girl from fifteen yearsago—the one who slowly shrank in plain sight, no one seeming to notice but me.
The wild cat who lured me in with her cute purr and soft paws only to lash out with sharp talons and a poisonous hiss when I went too close for comfort.
The girl who turned my entire world upside down.
Whenever I’ve imagined this moment, I picture someone cruel. Someone I could punish without hesitation.
Instead, Pfeiffer McAllister looks painfully human.
The way she keeps smoothing down her dress with shaking fingers makes me itch with curiosity.
Back in high school she had the world at her feet. Here, the most popular girl in class is struggling to adapt tomyworld.
It makes me hard.
It also muddies my motivation.
I’d expected someone I would want to ruin on sight, not someone who makes me question her ability to handle it, or stand up for herself. Ruining someone who can’t—or won’t—fight back is no fucking fun.
I stand and drain the rest of my whiskey in one burning swallow.
Remo watches me over steepled fingers. “The games are about to begin.”
My gaze settles on Pfeiffer again just as she tucks a loose strand of rose gold hair behind her ear and smiles nervously at the room.
