Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

I retrieve my phone, then I send her a series of tasks via text, separately.

Go to the IT department and get me a tech.

I need the draft for the Miles contract in thirty minutes.

Lunch in sixty minutes.

Another coffee in eighty minutes.

Book a meeting with Judge Harrison today.

Cancel golf this Sunday and come up with a good excuse.

Prepare a birthday gift for the mayor’s son.

Another coffee in two hundred minutes.

Any failure to perform these tasks and you’re fired.

She clenches her fist every time her phone dings or vibrates. I continue doing it on purpose to distract her.

What? I said I would play, not that I would play fair.

I toy with her, scattering her attention every few seconds. She has to check the phone, then go back to the document, flip back a page, look at the phone again, and so on.

Her cheeks turn red and I swear she’s about to stand up and storm in here—or storm out.

Before she can do so, the door to her office opens and my friend, Knox, appears in the threshold.

We both came from London after secondary school, even though I’m one year older than him.

Knox and I studied law together at Harvard, passed the bar together, and got into Weaver & Shaw at the same time. He specializes in criminal law, though, because he loves dealing with criminals.

He’s a freak like that.

Recently, he was the counsel of one of the parties in a public trial that got the media’s full attention. It had his own personal drama involved as well, but he came out of it even stronger than before. The fucker.

Anyway, Knox never knocks, but he also rarely pays attention to my assistants.

Today, he does.

My friend pauses at the threshold and gives Nicole a once-over. Since he came to our secondary school right after she left, she doesn’t recognize him.

But he recognizes her.

Perfectly so.

In fact, a sly grin paints his lips as he stalks toward her.

I stand up, letting my phone fall to the desk before I march toward the door. The moment I open it, I hear the sadism in Knox’s tone. “My, my, who do we have here?”

“Excuse me?” Nicole asks incredulously.

“Knox,” I call his name with a coolness I don’t feel.

He gives me a mischievous grin. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new…blonde assistant?”

I don’t miss the way the fucker emphasizes the word “blonde” and I’m about to use his tactics about “how to get away with murder” against him.

Nicole, however, seems confused more than anything else. All her earlier irritation has disappeared, too.

I grab Knox by the shoulder. “You, come with me.”

He reaches into his jacket, retrieves his card, and puts it in front of Nicole. “My name is Knox Van Doren. Call me if you need anything, Ms.…”

“Adler,” she says. “Nicole Adler.”

“And the mystery woman finally has a name.” Knox smiles wide like a bloody twat and I resist smacking him upside the head and revealing my reaction to the whole situation. “Call me.”

Before she can grab the card, I swiftly lift it and bark at her, “You have five minutes for that report.”

Then I pull Knox with me into the office and lower the shutters, blocking her and her slightly bemused, slightly frustrated expression out of view.

After clenching and unclenching my fist, I face Knox, who’s made himself at home and is sitting on the sofa.

His legs are spread wide and he has his arm thrown nonchalantly over the back of the sofa. That fucking grin is still plastered on his face that’s begging to be punched with a professional boxer’s strength.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me?” He feigns innocence, searching behind him for someone else. “I haven’t done anything except for introducing myself ever so casually.”

“Stay out of this, Knox.”

“Afraid your mystery girl will choose me? Oh, wait. She’s not a mystery anymore. Her name is Nicole and she’s a bombshell.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, this has nothing to do with you, so go wank the nearest pole.”

“Thanks for the image, but I’m going to have to decline. I’m happily engaged and don’t need your disgusting methods.”

“Congratulations for being a twat. Now, can you screw off, please? Some of us have to work.”

“Didn’t seem like it when you were watching her like Radiohead’s “Creep.””

“You’re one to talk about the creepy factor, considering your Viagra-on-steroids sexcapades during working hours.”

Knox taps a finger on his lips, not bothering to hide his sly smile that resembles a fox in heat. Not that I’ve seen one, but I imagine this is the expression they would have. “Oh, that. Good times.”

“At least one of us thinks so.”

“Your opinion on the location of my sexual encounters ranks with the importance of the Queen of England’s involvement in national affairs, Danny. Superficial, reserved, and holds no value. Now, back to the subject at hand. I assume you’re still holding a grudge? It’s been, what?” His hazel eyes twinkle with amusement as he starts counting with his fingers. “Eleven fucking years, no? Normal people would’ve moved on by now.”