Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

“It’s summer and pre-law students intern during the summer.”

“That’s all?”

“And…to keep busy, okay? I can’t afford to feel empty right now, so don’t stop me from doing this.”

It’s about Kingsley. Fuck.

I should’ve known that the happy façade she puts on in front of Martha and the world is just that. A façade. A disguise to hide what she’s feeling inside.

She’s excellent at that. Hiding. Whether physically or emotionally. Especially when it comes to the emotional pain, because she’s far more open in other areas.

I push off the door and approach her slowly. I don’t miss the way her eyes widen a little or how she watches my every move. She does it all the time back at the house, which is one more reason why I keep my fucking distance.

“Why didn’t you say that when you first talked to me about the internship? When asking for something, you’re supposed to back it up with all the right arguments.”

“You didn’t really give me a chance. You said no, and that’s final. And the discussion is over. Your three favorite expressions, remember?”

“Watch the tone, Gwyneth.”

“I’m sure Knox wouldn’t mind it if you just let me intern with him.”

“That’s out of the question and that’s final.”

“See? You said it again! It’s final this and final that. I’m not a robot, you know. There’s this little thing called emotions, and I’m not desensitized to them. I don’t have that word on my negative list.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a thing. You don’t need to know about it.” Then she mutters under her breath, “Maybe I should add you to the list.”

“Are you calling me names, Gwyneth?”

She fakes an innocent smile. “I can’t do that to my new boss.”

“How about your husband?”

Her lips fall open again, and I revel in that, probably more than I should.

I love taking her off guard, making her bothered in her own fucking skin. It’s a small taste of what she does all the time.

“I can call you names,” she whispers.

“Such as Uncle Nate?”

“That was because I wanted to…”

“What? Get attention? Provoke me? What exactly were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll call you kiddo until you figure it out then.”

“Not that! I…just wanted to provoke you, I think.”

“Will you be repeating it?”

“No.”

“Good, or else you’ll be back to being kiddo.”

Her lips part again and a bright fucking light shines in her gaze. But instead of focusing on the happiness she’s projecting in waves, on how pleased she is about not being a kiddo anymore, I march to my desk, retrieve a thick case file, and push it at her chest.

“Go through the previous case records and find me something I can use.”

She remains there, fingers wrapped around the file. “That’s all?”

“What else should there be? You asked for an internship and this is it. I won’t take it easy on you, Gwyneth. In fact, it’ll just get more difficult going forward. So if you don’t have the will to go through this, walk away now.”

“I can do it. I will do it.”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe things I don’t see.”

“You’re so cynical, you know that?”

“And you’re still standing here. Go work and behave.”

Her hold on the file falters and I lean forward in case she drops it.

She bites her lower lip and I don’t take my eyes off it, watching her wet it, her teeth nibbling on the plump cushion before she finally releases it. “B-behave?”

It’s like we’re playing a game of cat and mouse, and I don’t think I have the will to stop where this game is going anymore.

Or maybe I lost control of it a while ago and I’m only just admitting it now.

Either way, this is heading in a dangerous fucking direction, and I’m letting it.

Because fuck this. Fuck whatever is left of my conscience. I’ve never had one anyway, so I might as well stop pretending it’s there.

“Yes, Gwyneth. Behave or you’ll pay.”





14





Gwyneth





Behave or you’ll pay.

Behave. Or. You. Will. Pay.

He can’t say things like that and then walk away—or more like kick me out—because I have questions. Lots of them. How am I going to pay? Why? Where? When?

So many questions.

Like everything when it comes to Nate, I guess. And I don’t know why I want to pay, or maybe I do know. Because I’m a masochist, in a way, and masochists like pain, especially when it’s a result of something we’ve done.

I think that’s why I kissed him back then, because my masochistic tendencies took hold of me and I couldn’t escape them. And God forbid I tell Dad about them, because what would I say? Dad, I think I have masochistic tendencies toward your friend and I’m unable to stop them. Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye again.