Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

“Of course not. He’s your father. I would never hurt him, even if he deserves it.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll tell you when I have further proof.”

“Why don’t you tell me now?”

“I don’t want to raise your hopes for nothing.” He kisses the top of my head. “Go out first and I’ll follow after in case there’s someone outside.”

I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I breathe him in and it’s so soothing and right. Why can’t Dad and the world see just how right this is?

Why can’t they understand that I’ve never wanted and needed someone as much as I do Nate?

“Gwyneth.”

“Just a moment. Let me recharge.”

I feel the vibration in his chest as he groans before his strong hand wraps around my head.

We stay like that for minutes, just hugging and feeling each other’s heartbeats. It’s peaceful, but just like any peace, it has to come to an end.

Because wars have to happen. Because they’re more permanent than peace, no matter how much I like to think otherwise.

Nate begrudgingly releases me. “Go before he notices you’ve been gone for too long. I don’t want him taking it out on you.”

“Will you kidnap me again like this, husband?”

“Absolutely, wife.”

I smile, kiss his lips, and carefully slip out of the supply room.

I tiptoe to the elevator—thank God my sneakers don’t make a sound—while watching my surroundings.

The parking garage appears haunting, its blinding white lights turning me anxious despite myself. Then something else kicks up my jittery insides a notch.

The very familiar voice talking somewhere.

Dad.

Shit. Shit.

If he smelled Nate on me after a mere brush of fingers, he’ll have a heart attack now.

I crouch behind one of the cars and watch through the windows. A frown forms between my brows when I see who my father is talking to.

It’s…Aspen.

My dad is talking to Aspen and for the first time since I met her, she’s shaking.

Flat out shaking, like when I’m about to have some sort of a meltdown.

I should probably leave, wash up, and pour perfume all over my body, but curiosity gets the better of me. Using the cars as camouflage, I slowly move toward them while still in my crouching position.

Jeez. This is harder than I thought.

I’m finally a car away and can hear them—or more like, hear my father. He sounds cold, not enraged like when he was with Nate, but there’s still that terrifying edge to his voice. He’s flipping his lighter on and off at a fast pace.

“You will leave. I don’t care where, but you’ll remove yourself from here.”

She shakes her head. “No…I didn’t even…I can’t leave…”

He grabs her by the elbow. “Listen to me, you fucking witch. You forfeited your parental rights the moment you left her at my door twenty years ago and never looked back. You were never a mother to her. You’re a nobody to her. And now you’ll disappear quietly like you did back then before I fucking break you.”

My chin trembles as I stare from him to Aspen. The her he’s talking about is me, right? No one left another baby at his door twenty years ago.

And…did he say a mother?

Aspen?

Mother?

My fingers dig into the metal of the car I’m hiding behind and it burns.

It burns so hot that I release it with a jolt and jump up. I do it so suddenly, so violently, that both of their attention jerks toward me.

Life as I’ve known it so far seems like a big, giant lie.

And I’ve been the joke all along.





35





Nathaniel





I knew something was wrong the moment I saw Gwyneth sneaking up behind a car.

Then came King’s fucking loud voice, because he doesn’t know how to stay quiet.

Then Aspen’s full-body shudder as she barely remains upright.

But the only person I care about is the girl who’s standing in front of them, her mouth falling open and her nails clinking against each other fast, as if she’s on a mission to injure herself.

I step to her side, holding her elbow because she’s on the verge of something, and it’s not something good.

Her gaze slides to mine and it’s a myriad of confused, muted colors as she gulps. “Nate…they said…Dad…called her my mother. It’s not true, right?”

I tighten my jaw, then glare at King, who’s clenching his fists because he knows he fucked up. He couldn’t just keep quiet. No, he had to make a scene and have her find out this way.

He hasn’t been subtle at all since he woke up from the coma. Even I could see that his animosity toward Aspen was uncalled for. She hit back as hard as she could, but he’s been going as far as sabotaging her cases, which isn’t like him. He never did that in the past, no matter how much he hated her.

But after he hit his head, he started going after her like he does to Susan, ruthlessly and without pause, which means it’s a personal grudge, not just some differences in ideologies.

That’s when I dug deeper—met with his PI, got him drunk, then asked him a few questions that he answered like a parrot. And my suspicions were right. He did find Gwyneth’s mother for King and told him about it the day of the accident, which is probably why he lost control of his car in the first place.