~ 4

Chapter 4

~ Niklaus ~

What a weird woman.

I stood there on the sidewalk, watching her run away like her life depended on it. Her heels were clicking frantically against the pavement, her dress riding up with each step, her purse swinging wildly at her side.

Taraji Gilbert had just sprinted away from me like I was some kind of predator.

I couldn't help but smile. 

I hadn't wanted to come to this date. Not even a little bit. I'd had a dozen more important things to do tonight. Strategy meetings to plan. New hire portfolios to review. Code audits to oversee.

But Father had made it clear: go on this blind date, or he'd hand the entire hiring process over to Rebecca.

My father’s precious daughter. My supposed "equal" in the company. The woman who'd been trying to undermine me since the day I was born, because my mother was a mistress. 

So I'd gone. I'd put on a suit, driven to the fanciest restaurant in the city, and prepared myself to endure an hour of boring small talk with some polished, proper elite daughter who'd giggle at all my jokes and bat her eyelashes while calculating exactly how much my net worth was.

Instead, I got... her.

Heavy makeup … A dress so tight and revealing it belonged in a nightclub. Chewing gum like a teenager. Playing games with business cards. And then…

The pot smoking. The sex talk. The complete and utter lack of filter or shame.

It was extraordinary. She was extraordinary.

Nothing like the boring, cookie-cutter women my father usually set me up with. Nothing like the sophisticated socialites who'd been paraded in front of me for years, all of them desperate to become Mrs. Niklaus Specter.

Taraji Gilbert was loud. Inappropriate. Possibly insane.

I loved it.

I loved feisty.

"Mr. Specter?"

Fred's voice cut through my thoughts. My assistant was standing by the car, holding the back door open, looking at me with concern.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Fine." I walked toward the car, straightening my tie. "Just... an interesting evening."

I slid into the back seat and Fred closed the door behind me. As he got into the driver's seat, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then caught my eye in the rearview mirror.

"Your father requests that you return to the manor immediately, sir."

Of course he does.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the leather seat. "Of course he does."

I hated going to the family manor. Hated the formality of it and the tension that hung in every room. I hated having to sit across from Rebecca and pretend we were one big happy family.

But Father didn't make requests. He made demands.

"Drive," I said.

….

The Specter family manor sat on five acres of perfectly manicured grounds, all stone and glass and old money. It had been in the family for three generations. My grandfather had built his fortune here. My father had expanded it.

And now they both expected me to carry on the legacy.

Lucky me.

Fred pulled up to the front entrance and I stepped out, already dreading what was waiting inside.

I got to the dining room and seated around it: my family.

Father sat at the head of the table, as always. Tall, gray-haired, wearing a suit even at dinner. Everything about him screamed control and power. He looked up when I entered, his sharp eyes assessing me immediately.

"Niklaus. You're late."

"I was on the date you demanded I attend," I said, taking my seat.

"Which ended early, I heard." He folded his hands on the table. "I assume you didn't eat much. That's fine. We've already started."

To my left sat my grandfather. Eighty-two years old and still sharp as a tack. He gave me a small nod but said nothing. He rarely spoke at these dinners anymore. Just observed.

Across from me sat Rebecca. My stepsister. Thirty-eight years old, perfectly styled blonde hair, designer dress, and a smile that never quite reached her eyes. Next to her was her husband, Max — a thin, nervous man who always looked like he was waiting for someone to notice he didn't belong here.

Which he didn't.

"Niklaus!" Rebecca said brightly, too brightly. "How was your date? Father said it was with the Gilbert girl. Taraji, right?"

"It was fine."

"Just fine?" She tilted her head, mock concern on her face. "That doesn't sound very promising. You know Father has a whole list of potential matches if this one didn't work out."

I picked up my water glass, taking a slow sip before responding. "I'm aware."

Father cleared his throat. The sound silenced the entire table immediately.

"How was the date, Niklaus? And I want a real answer, not a dismissal."

I set down my glass. "She was... different."

"Different how?"

How did I explain Taraji Gilbert? The gum chewing? The pot smoking confession? The completely inappropriate sexual proposition in the middle of a five-star restaurant?

"She's not like the other women you've set me up with," I said carefully. "She's more... direct."

Rebecca snorted into her wine glass. "Direct. Is that code for inappropriate?"

I ignored her. "She's a teacher. Elementary school."

Father raised an eyebrow. "A teacher? The Gilbert family runs a textile empire and their daughter is a teacher?"

"Apparently she wanted to work with children."

That was a lie. Or maybe it wasn't. I had no idea what Taraji Gilbert actually wanted. She'd been so busy trying to shock me that I hadn't learned anything real about her.

"And you're interested in pursuing this?" Father asked.

Was I?

The logical answer was no. She was clearly unstable. Inappropriate. Possibly on drugs based on her own admission.

But something about her had been... intriguing. The way she'd looked at me when I offered to take her home. The panic in her eyes. Like she'd been playing a game and suddenly realized she was in over her head.

"I wouldn't rule it out," I said finally.

Rebecca's fork clattered against her plate. "Hmm."

Father turned his attention back to me. "If you didn't like Miss Gilbert, I have other options. The Salazar family's daughter. The Laurent family's youngest. The…"

"I said I wouldn't rule it out," I interrupted.

I was tired of being set up with perfect, boring women who wanted nothing more than to be a trophy wife.

And also, I was curious. Curious about what a second date with the chaotic, inappropriate, possibly insane Taraji Gilbert would look like.

Father studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"Very well. But Niklaus, let me be clear." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone he used in business meetings. The tone that meant he wasn't negotiating. "You need to be married within the year to be eligible to take over as permanent CEO of SpecterTech. Those are the terms of your grandfather's trust. If you're not married by your thirtieth birthday, the position goes to Rebecca."

Across the table, Rebecca smiled. A real smile this time.

I kept my face neutral, but inside, anger flared hot and sharp.

This was the ultimatum. The one that had been hanging over my head for months. Get married or lose everything I'd worked for.

"I understand," I said evenly.

"Do you?" Father's eyes were hard. "Because I won't hesitate to make Rebecca CEO if you don't meet the requirement. She's been preparing for this role her entire life."

"She's been preparing to steal it," I said coldly.

"Niklaus…"

"I'll be married within the year." I stood up, throwing my napkin on the table. "You have my word."

I didn't wait for a response. I turned and walked out of the dining room, my footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Behind me, I heard Rebecca's voice, sweet as poison: "He'll never find someone willing to marry him. He’s a rude and arrogant one."

I ignored her. I'd been ignoring her for years.

I needed to get married. Soon.

And for some inexplicable reason, my mind kept drifting back to the woman in the red dress who'd run away from me tonight.

Taraji Gilbert.

Maybe she was exactly the kind of unexpected, unconventional choice I needed.