Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent
Sometimes, he’d spend hours on end kissing me from head to toe and lighting my libido on fire until I beg him to fuck me already.
Other times, he’d let me have the control by telling me to ride him until I reach that peak.
He knows I need it sometimes, and even though he’s the dominant one, he lets me have a sliver of it once in a while.
And I love him for it.
I love him for forcing me to see myself again.
For making my chef dream real.
For taking care of Jay’s education.
My little brother is indeed a genius and is currently studying in one of the most elite schools in Europe. He comes home once a week and chatters nonstop about his friends and how he’s called a prince there.
He never asks or talks about his father after I told him he dropped the custody case. If anything, he was more relieved.
Christopher has checked himself into a mental institute a few months after Daniel incapacitated him and he admitted to hiring that thug. It was a last-ditch attempt to get revenge for what happened to him.
I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him.
It took me some time, but I got over the memory of him. I no longer get panic attacks or meltdowns. Nothing could erase what happened to me, but I learned to cope with it.
To accept it as a scar and live with it.
And the reason is the man who’s rocking our baby while his muscles contract with every movement. He looks like a fucking god with his tousled hair and killer physique.
Not to mention how powerful he is.
Daniel quit being an attorney soon after he was stabbed. He told me that he picked a different career from what his family expected as a jab to his parents, to not follow in his father’s footsteps, but that was the wrong thing to base one’s future on.
He’s now the CFO of Sterling Engineering, a pillar, and the reason for Zach’s stoicism.
If I thought Daniel was cold when I worked for him at Weaver & Shaw, then Zach takes the cake. He can really be a heartless devil.
Aunt Nora, who was over the moon when I gave birth to Conrad, cried while holding him, because she probably will never be able to hold Zach’s children.
Both her sons called her dramatic.
Daniel learned to make peace with his mother, and by learned, I mean that I forced them into enough dinners together that they both nearly choked on their food.
Papa and Astrid also join us. My stepsister and I don’t paint each other’s toenails, but she respects Daniel’s choice and me whenever we meet. Uncle Henry became my papa soon after I moved back here. He makes it his mission to include me in all familial occasions.
But my small family is right here.
With that man and that four-month-old baby.
Daniel places him in his crib and quietly backs away, steps on a toy, and curses under his breath, but he swallows the sound.
I suppress my laughter and he turns around, narrowing his eyes, before he grasps my waist and slowly pushes me out, closing the door behind us.
“Are you laughing at my misery, Mrs. Sterling?”
My heart flips and my muscles loosen at the sound of my new last name. I don’t think I’ll ever not have this reaction at being called Daniel’s wife. “Who? Me?”
“Don’t give me that tone, you little minx.”
“What tone?” I drop my voice, running my fingers across his chest.
“The tone that will get you fucked until the morning and you’ll walk funny tomorrow.”
“Why do you think I’m using it, husband?”
A squeal leaps out of me as he carries me to bed.
I’m obsessed with this man as much as he’s obsessed with me.
I’m his.
He’s mine.
Probably since we were kids.
EPILOGUE - DANIEL
ONE YEAR LATER
“I thought you considered children spawns.”
I take a sip of my apricot juice, ignoring Astrid’s all-knowing smirk as she chugs on her cocktail. “I still do.”
“Is that why Nicole is pregnant with your second child when the first one is less than eighteen months old?”
It’s my turn to smirk. “I said children are spawns. Mine and Nicole’s don’t belong to that list.”
“Oh, screw you, Bug.” She laughs, stretching her legs out on the chaise lounge by the side of our pool.
One of the tea monsters, the maid, replaces Astrid’s drink and silently judges her for not choosing tea.
They would judge me, too, but Nicole has been making sure they see me drink at least one cup of tea a day.
“You have to do this so they’d respect you, hon,” she told me, and then she proceeded to convince me with our favorite currency—a sloppy blowjob.
That’s the only reason why I drink tea. Aside from the way she sweetly calls me ‘hon’ whenever she wants something. She’s the sneakiest, smartest little minx and she knows it.
Out of fear of drooling like a toddler at the mere thought of my bombshell wife, I focus on Astrid who’s talking about Glyndon’s latest adventures at her grandfather’s house.
That little girl is on the road to be a spoilt troublemaker with a crooked princess crown.
It’s not a coincidence that she’s Jonathan’s favorite. The ruthless, merciless Jonathan who couldn’t care less about anyone other than his second wife.
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