Empire of Sin (Empire #2) by Rina Kent

But I ignored them.

I’m on a mission that will take place on the “nerds’ floor,” as everyone at W&S calls it.

The receptionist desk is empty and I assume everyone is out for lunch. Everyone except her, because I didn’t notice her in the cafeteria yesterday or just now. Which means she takes her lunch here.

And bingo.

She’s sitting at her desk, her shoulders and back in a straight line as she eats a sandwich with one hand and types something on her keyboard with the other.

Just like yesterday, her hair is black and tied in a stiff bun, and the thick glasses cover half of her face.

Only her lips remain the same, petite and full, but they’re bare, with none of the red from two weeks ago.

Her entire face is free of makeup, but it’s still as delicate as I remember. Pale, too. So pale that I make out the thin veins in her throat when I’m within touching distance.

So pale that I left angry red bruises on her hips when I grabbed her by them while I thrust inside her heat.

At the memory, my dick hardens, tenting against my trousers, and I suppress a groan as I adjust it.

Down, boy. It’s not time for you…yet.

The distinct scent of orange blossoms and jasmine reaches me and I close my eyes to inhale it. Another thing that’s remained the same from that night. Another thing that I can’t stop thinking about.

She smells as delicate as she appears. She might be discreet, but something a lot more wild simmers beneath the surface.

Something I’ve had a taste of and can’t erase from my memories.

“If you were changing identities, you should’ve switched your perfume, too.”

She startles, the chair jolting with her sudden movement, and the sandwich remains suspended near her mouth.

Slowly, too slowly, she rotates the chair so that she’s facing me. Her throat bobs up and down with a thick swallow and I can’t stop watching those fine purple veins moving beneath the transparent skin of her neck.

The neck I held in a chokehold not so long ago, which I itch to repeat. Or maybe that’s not the part I’m most thrilled about. Maybe the part that’s stuck in my head is how I had her completely at my mercy, where her only way out was me.

“You.” It’s either a whisper or a pant, I’m not sure which. What I am sure about, however, is that she didn’t expect me.

Good.

I like taking people by surprise, both inside and outside the courtroom.

My lips curve in a sardonic smirk. “Me.”

“What are you doing here?” She searches around the IT department as if it’s her fortress and I broke entry into it. Or maybe she’s looking for an ally. Unfortunately for her, there is none.

The best way to crush someone? Leave them with no way out.

“Did you really think you could run away and I’d just forget about it?”

“Well, you should.”

“Just because I should, doesn’t mean I would.”

Her lips twist, and I assume it’s because she detected the sarcasm in my tone. “We have…nothing to do with each other.”

“I fucked your virgin cunt and made you scream until your voice turned hoarse, not to mention, the marks I left all over your pale skin. I’d say we have something to do with each other.”

She squirms visibly, and it takes her a few gulps to speak. “Even if that were the case—”

“Even if? Why are you acting as if it wasn’t real?”

“It’s in the past. It means nothing.” Furious determination laces her sweet, soft voice, and I don’t know which pisses me off more: the fact that she’s determined it means nothing or that what happened holds no significance to her in the first place.

“I haven’t agreed to that.”

“I don’t think your agreement is of importance.”

“I would argue otherwise. After all, I’m the only one at Weaver & Shaw who knows your real name, Anastasia.”

She releases a long puff of air. “It’s not—”

“Don’t utter that lie or you won’t get away with it this time.”

She blinks slowly, letting the sandwich fall to her lap. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth. All of it. And that includes your real name, true appearance, and your purpose for being here.”

“Jane is the only name I have. This is my actual appearance, the other one was fake. As for my purpose, I’m really just trying to work to keep food on the table.”

She’s still lying. I can tell when someone is, even if they’re perfect at it like she is. Usually, people give themselves away with tics or out-of-character body language, but she was completely still and calm when she uttered those lies.

Either she’s practiced them for a long time or she’s so used to lying that it doesn’t faze her anymore.

“That doesn’t look like working to me.” I motion at the screen behind her, where she has a Google page open with my name at the top.

She throws the sandwich aside and clicks something on the screen that makes it go black.

My smirk widens. “You’re not so subtle for a stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker.”

“Then what was that I just saw? If you want to know more about me, all you have to do is ask.”

“I’m only doing my research on all of the firm’s employees.”