Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

I’m not beneath being the ultimate player everyone wishes they could beat in court.

It’s how I obtained the type of reputation where people think twice before going against me.

I’m all fun and laughs until I flip the switch and turn everything into a game.

I’m playing one right now. One that’s different from all the other games I’ve played.

Usually, I only play a game when I’m ninety percent sure that I’ll win. The ten percent is the fun risk factor. This time, however, I’m not sure if that’s the same percentage or if it’s slightly lower.

Perhaps it’s higher because I won’t stop until I crush this game.

Until the prey decides to perish on its own.

Sitting behind my desk, I smooth my tie and watch through the space separating my office from Nicole’s.

She’s been reading through a contract draft that I asked her to proofread while simultaneously answering incoming calls, which obviously distracts her, because she shakes her head and flips to the previous page.

I lean back in my chair and watch the flutter of her thick lashes over her cheeks as she stares down at the paper.

Like yesterday, her hair is gathered in a ponytail, which highlights the soft contours of her face and her plump lips that are the color of peaches.

It doesn’t matter how many years pass or how old she gets, Nicole was and always will be beautiful. The provocative type.

The type I want to snuff out and shove down her slender throat.

Today, she’s wearing a dark green shirt that brings out the color of her eyes. They’re like a forest in the middle of winter. Mysterious. Manipulative.

Deadly.

That’s what she’s always been like—a lethal poison waiting for the next victim to attack.

A venom that’s designed to make people lose their minds.

Which is why I started this game.

She fucked with me first, and it’s time she has a taste of her own medicine.

When I saw her in one of Weaver & Shaw’s halls, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It’s been eleven years. Eleven fucking years since I last saw her, but that one glimpse was enough to provoke the raging monster inside me.

One glimpse and it all came crashing down on me without mercy.

So I gave HR her name and asked what she was doing here when she’s supposed to be in fucking London where I bloody left her.

Turns out, Nicole was applying for an assistant position in the firm. As the bitch karma would have it, I recently let go of my one hundredth assistant, so Nicole was the perfect fit to fill in the role.

She’ll be my target for these couple of weeks and then she’ll beg me to let her go.

Little Miss Bitch will wish she’d turned around and ran the moment she saw me in my office.

I impatiently wait until she’s engrossed in the file again, then I lift my phone and press the button that connects me to her.

A slight jump lifts her shoulders and she purses her lips before picking up. To give her credit, she sounds welcoming. Soft, too. “Weaver & Shaw, Daniel Sterling’s office, how may I help you?”

“Are you finished with the contract?”

She stiffens visibly, steals a glance at me through the shutters, then stares back at her desk. “I’ll be done with it in a few.”

“A few isn’t a time frame. You should’ve been done with that ten minutes ago. Just like you should’ve brought me coffee three minutes earlier this morning. If my lunch is also late, don’t bother coming back. Are we clear, Ms. Adler?”

She pauses for a few seconds, probably to get her bearings. She’s clenching one of her fists on the pile of papers and grabbing the phone so tight, her knuckles look white.

It must be so humiliating to go from being the queen bee of the school to becoming an assistant. To go from wearing name brands and putting on premium perfume to buying cheap clothing from the store.

She was the type of bitch who walked all over those weaker than her with her designer heels while carrying her Dior bag. The type who smiled but never meant it because she excelled at being a fake, ugly monster who looked sweet like peaches but was rotten on the inside.

Considering what I know about her, I’d have sworn she would’ve cracked by now. She would’ve called me a “bloody idiot” like she did back then and walked out.

Her pride comes before everything. Even when she fell from grace and her mother was no longer in the picture, she never lowered her head or acted like a victim.

Never.

So the fact that she’s been keeping up with my ludicrous commands and harsh treatment is strange, to say the least.

It’s almost as if it’s not the same Nicole from back then.

“Yes, sir,” she says after a while.

My chest expands, then constricts in equal measure. I shouldn’t be feeling this fucking conflicted about the way she calls me “sir” when I intended to break her down with it, but fuck me, I’m not used to it.

Not one bit.

And I’m not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

“I need that file in five minutes. If there are any mistakes, you’re fired.”

I hang up and pretend to focus on the screen of my computer. I can see her from my peripheral vision snapping the phone in place and glaring at me.

When I lift my head, she tactfully slides her attention back to the files.