Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

The box that the little girl in me used as a form of consolation. The adult in me continued to use it as a source of peace.

My fingers glide over the small wooden exterior that’s accentuated with a metallic lock. I took this box with me everywhere after Mum was arrested. I hid it under my bed and stared at it when it got too hard. When Jay was sick. When my nightmares and panic attacks rendered me crippled.

I used to try and hide this part of me by any means necessary, but it’s different now.

Now, I meant what I said. I’m not going to keep making the same mistake named Daniel.

If I want to move on, to pick up the pieces of my life and survive, then I need to deal with this once and for all.

It’s not about why he’s angry, which he vehemently believes is that I invited his family without telling him—a fact that he’ll thank me for later.

He’s angry because, like back when we were teenagers, he doesn’t like that he wants me.

He loathes it with passion.

And if that’s the case, then he’s going to say it to my face and spare me a stronger heartache.

Not allowing myself to change my mind, I carry the box close to my chest and stride to the door. The moment I open it, I pull Daniel inside, because he’s gripping the handle.

My heart does that strange flip that I only ever experienced when he’s in sight. When I first met him, when I gradually fell in love with him, when he touched me, when he hurt me afterward, and eventually when I thought I would never see him again.

Until I did.

Until he slowly became an undivided part of my world.

The bottle of whiskey that he nursed like it’s his baby is gone, but he still appears rugged, his hair tousled and haphazard in a glorious warrior kind of way.

“I said a few things that I regret,” he says, one of his fists clenching beside him.

The box digs into my chest as I hug it tighter. “Like what?”

“Like the warm hole part. Won’t happen again.”

“And?”

“There’s no and.”

My tempter that I almost felt deflating due to his not-so-explicit apology flares again. I push the box at his chest. “In that case, take this.”

A frown appears between his brows, then morphs into recognition as he flips the box. “Is this…?”

“The present you gave me for my thirteenth birthday.” I reach behind my nape and unclasp the white gold necklace. When I pull it, the emerald pendant opens to reveal a small key that’s designed for the box.

I push it into Daniel’s bigger hand. “I saw you the day you went into a vintage shop and asked the old man for a custom-made necklace. You even gave him a picture of me so the color would match my eyes. That day was one of the happiest in my life. And when my birthday rolled around, I opened your present first. You said, ‘It’s called a box of secrets and you’re the only one who can get access to it due to that key necklace.’ But before I could say anything, you told me that Aunt Nora picked it out and then you left the party.

“You always lifted me up just to bring me down harder than before. You touched me just to stop touching me. You kissed me only to never do it again. Did you know that your smiles disappeared whenever you looked at me? That you always looked in the other direction? You ignored me to the point that I wondered if I was invisible. But I’m not, Daniel. I’m right here, I was always right in front of you, looking at you, watching you, being so unhealthily obsessed with you, it ruined me.

“I stepped on my pride to love you. I crushed my bleeding heart, then gave it to you. All I wanted was for you to see me, to not make me invisible. All I wished for was a tiny piece of your heart, a sliver of your attention, but you never gave me that. You never fought for me as I fought for you!”

My heart hammers in my chest and I feel myself on the point of hyperventilating.

I don’t know what I expected his reaction would be, but the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fist until his knuckles turn white is definitely not what I had in mind.

Why does he get to be angry when I’m the one who should be?

His reaction disappears as quickly as it appeared. Instead, that sadistic gleam rushes forward, the frigid coldness wrapping over him, like when he’s about to wear his dick hat.

“You were that desperate, huh?”

I ignore the jab of his words and suck in sharp intakes of air through my mouth. “I was that in love with you.”

He bursts out laughing and I feel my heart shattering into pieces at his feet, with all of its blood and longing and stupid damn feelings that I harbored for years.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He slowly puts a halt to his maniacal laughter. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny? Because the only thing I recall about you from back then is your bitchy, entitled fucking self, Nicole. You were just a fuck but you went ahead and made it into some love story. Hopeless romanticism does suit you since you’re so fucking naïve.”

“You don’t mean that,” I argue more to myself than him. “You liked me, Daniel, you always did. You just didn’t like that fact. I know it.”

His voice that was mocking a moment ago lowers in tone while being loud in volume. “You know jack shit about me, Nicole. You might need to see someone for your delusions and other issues.”

A lump catches in my throat. “Are you trying to push me away? Again?”