Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

“He’s in such bad shape,” she says quietly, without any expression.

I fight the tears trying to escape and clink my thumb against my forefinger beneath Nate’s jacket. So it’s my nails against his jacket. In a way, he’s here with me.

Also, there’s a bandage around my finger that I didn’t notice before. Was he the one who put it there?

My thoughts are scattered when Susan faces me, her snobbish expression strapped firmly in place. “The bastard finally got what he deserves.”

I reel back from the force of her words, my chin trembling. “How…how could you say that? Even if you guys fought, he’s facing death right now.”

“As he should have a long time ago. His type of evil needed to be punished sooner rather than later.”

“Susan!”

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice, even though you’re that devil’s spawn.” She steps closer until all I can smell is the strong notes of her dizzying perfume. “It’d be better if you drop all the cases and move out of the house. My lawyer said I can win the house back and also the shares in Weaver & Shaw that my husband owned before they were reverted back to your conniving father.”

I’m shaking my head despite my attempts to appear unfazed. Dad spent a lot of time, effort, and money to secure the house and the firm. There’s no way in hell she can take everything, right? Surely, there’s something I can do.

Susan reaches her gloved hand out and clutches my chin between her thumb and forefinger and gives it a little shake. “I’d hate to squash a little girl like you, so why don’t you save us both the trouble and drop everything? You’ll have your trust fund when you’re twenty-one and that’s enough to keep you wealthy for a lifetime. I’m having my lawyer draw up a contract so all you have to do is sign.”

“No,” I murmur, my nails digging into the jacket.

Her swollen lips twist. “What did you just say?”

“No!” I push away from her, my body trembling. “I won’t allow you to take Dad’s hard-earned things. Never! And he isn’t dead, Susan! He’ll come back and make you regret ever suggesting that to me.”

“You’re talking big, but you’ve got nothing, little girl. Be ready to be crushed in court.”

My heart hammers hard and fast in my ribcage as I search for the right words to throw back in her face. I’ll never allow this woman to take away what Dad worked for, even if it’s the last thing I do.

“That should go to you, Mrs. Shaw.”

I startle, my chest doing that squeezing thing coupled with a zap at the sound of his voice.

Nate.

He strides to where we are, and before I can allow myself to bask in relief, his arm wraps around my shoulder.

Nate’s arm is on my shoulder.

Is this some sort of a dream? Or maybe it’s a dream coupled with a nightmare.

Susan raises her chin, still twisting her lips. “You can’t do anything, even if you represent her. The law is on my side this time.”

“That might be so if you were talking to her lawyer, but you’re now addressing a member of her family. Her future husband, to be more specific.”





7





Nathaniel





Necessity.

I’ve never liked that word. It’s because of necessity that my brother decided to leave the country, and that got him killed.

It’s because of necessity that people vote for the likes of my father to represent them in spite of the fact that he only cares about himself.

In a way, necessity is the root of all evil. Decisions based on it are a bit impulsive and almost always have dire consequences down the line. Ones that could be dangerous, lethal even.

Of all people, I’m well aware of the dangerous repercussions of hasty actions. I never decide anything unless I have a 360-degree view of the entire situation as well as all of its possible results. This is the first time I’ve taken a step into territory that hasn’t been carefully plotted. It’s like walking through a minefield with a blindfold on.

But just like earlier, I don’t think about the possible repercussions. I shove them to the back of my mind and focus on the now. On the present and its own sets of cause and effect. What I’m doing is out of necessity. The urgency to keep Kingsley’s legacy alive. The burden to protect what he left behind.

However, as I wrap my arm around Gwyneth’s shoulder, burden is the last thing I feel. There’s the usual fire, the scorching hot fucking flames that resemble the color of her hair. There’s the softness of her body, the parting of her rosebud lips, and that fucking vanilla scent that’s starting to grow on me despite myself.

But a burden is not in the picture.

Not even a little.

Not even fucking close.

If anything, there’s a tinge of relief. It’s tiny, almost lost in the midst of the persistent chaos, but it’s there. The knowledge that this is the only way to actually honor King’s last words. That there isn’t any other way to efficiently handle the situation besides this method.

She trembles in my hold. It’s different than when she was struggling to express her grief. This time is more potent, as if her body is unable to convey whatever is lurking inside except through the tremors that take hold of it.