Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

King turns around holding two cases of beer and his expression immediately sharpens. Gone is the soft man who was singing Happy Birthday not too long ago.

He straightens to his full height, but no matter how much he tries to get more on me, his six-foot-two is still an inch shorter than me. But he’s more buff.

Aside from boxing with him for old times’ sake and doing some hiking, I’m not as obsessed as he is with sports.

“You can go.” He hands the beer to one of the staff and they all scurry out of the kitchen at his order.

After slamming the fridge shut, he retrieves a Zippo from his pocket and flicks it open, then closed. He quit smoking a long time ago, soon after Gwyneth’s birth, but he’s never lost the need to have that lighter. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Nice save, because I was planning to kick your ass.”

“You can’t win against me. Not in this lifetime, at least.”

“Last week’s match says otherwise.”

“In last week’s match, you cheated by throwing the towel in my face.”

“It’s called street fighting, not noble martial arts. I’ll let you win this week.”

“Fuck you. Don’t act benevolent when you’re going down.”

“We’ll see about that. Now, why are you late?”

“It’s just a birthday, King. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“My daughter’s birthday. That’s the big deal, Nate.”

I resist the urge to tell him it’s still just a birthday since those words will definitely get me punched. My face is kind of real estate now and can’t be bruised in any way. King’s, too. Which is why the face is a red zone in our fights.

King flicks his lighter shut, slips it back in his pocket, and reaches into the cabinet. He retrieves a bottle of The Balvenie 21 Year Old PortWood Finish and pours two glasses, then slides one across the counter to me.

“Drinking this early?” I swirl the contents.

“It’s a special occasion.”

I take a sip to hide whatever grimace my mouth was about to make. “Because it’s her birthday or because it reminds you of her mother?”

“Her mother can go fuck herself. That woman doesn’t exist.” He downs the whole glass.

“Clearly. Judging by the million PIs you’ve hired over the last eighteen years.”

“There’s no harm in knowing one’s enemies' whereabouts.”

“You want me to believe that you won’t do anything once you find her? Really, King?”

The corner of his lips curve in a smirk as he pours himself another drink. “I never said that.”

“Keep me and the firm out of this mess.”

“The firm, maybe. But you, my friend, will definitely go down with me.”

He steps to my side and leans against the counter. We drink in silence, which was our ritual after we fought in high school. Back then, we were bloody, bruised, and barely breathing, but we sat on the school’s rooftop that overlooked New York City and shared a beer. It was also around that time when we vowed to conquer this city.

Almost two decades later, we have branches all over the States and in London and France.

And it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Nothing does.

“She’s growing up so fast.” King sighs, watching Gwyneth help the catering staff. “I want her to go back into being my little angel.”

“Kids aren’t constant.”

“Don’t I fucking know it. The other day, she was having a virginity talk with her friend.”

“Why the fuck are you talking about your daughter’s virginity to me? Or at all?”

He waves me off and continues, “I should’ve known this was coming, but I still had dark thoughts about all the ways someone could take her away. Then I started to seriously consider the option of becoming a killer to protect her.”

“Just so we’re clear, I won’t be your attorney.”

“Fuck you, Nate.”

“For abandoning you when you do something stupid?”

“For being a jealous motherfucker because I always win, not only in the street fights and with my higher grades, but I also had a child before you.”

“First of all, you didn’t win all the fights and the ones you did were always by some dirty play. Second of all, grades are subjective. I still win more cases than you do and my methods are smart and efficient, unlike your hard, ruthless ways that are more trouble than necessary. As for children, no thanks. I practically raised my nephew and he’s enough children for a lifetime.” I check my watch. Twenty minutes since I arrived. Five minutes more than I’d planned to stay. I place my glass on the counter. “I’m out.”

“Where to?”

“A meeting with a client.”

“On a weekend?”

“No rest for the wicked.” I turn and start to leave, but his voice stops me.

“Wait.”

“What?” I glance at him over my shoulder.

“You didn’t wish Gwen a happy birthday.”

“Do it on my behalf. I’ll leave you the gift.”

“Fuck no. You’ll go over there and do it yourself. I don’t want to see the disappointment on my angel’s face when she learns that her uncle Nate completely ignored her on her special day.”