Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

He doesn’t do it in a rude way that would make Dad notice. He’s subtle yet efficient. I can now count the number of times I’ve seen him over the last couple of years.

Crossing paths—about twenty.

Conversations—zero. Aside from the stray “How are you?” that’s detached and without warmth.

It’s not like he was always present when he was Uncle Nate. He was there for Dad mostly and didn’t pay me much attention, as if I were background noise.

A wallflower, maybe.

A kid.

But I could at least exist in his vicinity without feeling like I’d detonate from the inside out.

After I kissed him, I ruined the easygoing relationship we’d had for eighteen years.

But I don’t regret it.

Because I’d hoped I would be more than a kid to him. I’d hoped that he’d see me in a different light.

All my hopes are up in the air now.

But I need to plan Dad’s birthday in the next few weeks, and that means he’ll be there.

I gulp, my heart hammering in my chest.

Though it shouldn’t be, because I got over him, you know. It’s for the best, anyway, since Dad would go berserk, so everything is fine.

I’m fine.

I’ve been telling myself that for two years, but it’s never felt true. I guess that’s because he’s Nate.

The same Nate who taught me to control the emptiness inside me and turn it into a strength.

“That hollowness never goes away. It’s part of who you are now, whether you like it or not,” he said on my fifteenth birthday when he found me hiding in Dad’s wine cellar. That’s what I do when it gets to be too much and I don’t want to upset Dad—I hide.

That day was one of those overwhelming days. I hated it, my birthday, and myself. I felt like that abandoned newborn baby on the side of the road again, even though I remembered none of it. I felt like an unwanted presence and it made me empty. So empty that I couldn’t breathe and had to hold in the tears when Dad sang me Happy Birthday.

It was the day I realized that despite having the best father in the world, I didn’t feel complete. I thought I was weird because all I kept wishing for was a mother.

On every birthday, that’s the only thing I wished for. A mother. My mother. I wished she’d come back and explain why she did that to me.

But Dad was so happy that day, like on all of my birthdays. He always made them an event that he planned for weeks in advance. So I couldn’t be an ungrateful bitch and start bawling in front of him.

That’s why I sneaked into the wine cellar and did it alone, in silence.

Until the door opened and he appeared. Uncle Nate. He was still an uncle at the time, an intimidating one who would put a bully’s parent in their place with a few words. He’d done that once, when I was ten and a girl called me uneducated because my mother was a whore. It’s been an ongoing rumor; Kingsley Shaw fucked a whore and had to become a single parent when said whore disappeared.

I didn’t tell my dad, because I knew he’d be loud and cause drama, but Nate picked me up from school that day on his behalf and noticed something was wrong. He interrogated me until I confessed everything while ugly crying. That same evening, he visited the girl’s home and told the mother she would either keep her daughter under control or he’d sue her for everything she owned.

“You don’t cover up for people who hurt you, Gwyneth, do you hear me? That’s the exact attitude that will encourage them to continue hurting you and others. If you don’t want King involved, you come to me. Understand?”

I remained silent in his car, still a bit stunned about how the bully and her mother looked genuinely scared. At that moment, I almost idolized Nate as much as I did Dad.

“Do you understand?” he insisted in that firm voice, and I finally nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s go somewhere you can forget about all of this.”

He took me to the amusement park and bought me vanilla ice cream. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

The following morning, the bully apologized to me. That’s when I realized people fear Nate not only because of who his father is but also because he always keeps his promises.

What happened on my fifteenth birthday was a bit similar to the bully incident. Nate found me and crouched by my side, but he didn’t touch me.

“But I hate it.” I hid my face with my hands. “I hate that something is missing inside me.”

“Are you going to let it rule you or are you going to bring it to its knees in front of you? Because those are your only two options, Gwyneth. It’s up to you what you decide to fill it with. Strength or weakness.”

I chose neither.

I chose to fill it up with him.





2





Kingsley





I use the voice command to call Nate.

The sound of ringing fills the car, but there’s no answer.

“Fuck.” I hit one of my fists against the steering wheel as I take a sharp turn to the right.

I zigzag between cars, ignoring their honking and the occasional name-calling.

Right now, I’m on a mission.

One that will only be fulfilled once I’m at the firm and talking to that low-fucking-life.

When I first saw the document this morning, I thought something was wrong. Surely, the name and the fucking proof that lay in front of me were some sort of a mistake.