Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

The whole look makes me feel elegant and powerful, but most of all, beautiful. Like I can win battles and conquer mountains.

Or more like, a particular mountain that I haven’t even been able to scratch the surface of for years.

That’s how obsession works.

At first, you just want a glance, a touch, a word, but then greed takes over and you can’t get enough.

I can’t get enough.

“It’s Dior,” I tell Hannah with a smile. “Uncle Henry got it for me.”

“You’re so lucky your dad is a willing sponsor of your lifestyle.”

Chloe, who’s standing right beside me, releases an annoyed sound. I’ve known her since we were eight and became sort of besties.

Mostly because the other girls were too intimidated by me to ever try and befriend me.

She’s a brunette and has doe brown eyes that make her appear kind and peaceful when she’s in fact the one who metaphorically lent me the “bitch manual.”

“He’s not her dad, he’s her stepdad. Didn’t you hear her calls him Uncle Henry? Keep up, Hannah,” Chloe says with a plastic smile and I stop myself from wincing.

Yes, Uncle Henry isn’t Papa, but I wanted him to be at one point. However, I knew early on that that was impossible. Despite what Mum used to say, he only ever cared about Astrid as his real daughter.

He might not buy her things, because she doesn’t want them, and is stricter with her than he is with me, but she’s the one he makes sure is asleep every night.

As if on cue with my thoughts, Chloe tips her chin to the entryway. “The real daughter is a bum with no grace.”

The group breaks out in snickers except for me. My attention slides to the entrance and sure enough, Astrid is walking inside with her usual aloofness.

She’s wearing shorts and fishnet stockings and has some tacky star pins in her light brown hair. Astrid is short, way shorter than me, but she never wears heels, or dresses, or anything that would bring out her natural beauty.

And still, Daniel is wrapping an arm around her shoulders and laughing out loud at something she said.

I’m caught in a trance—my lids slowly droop and my heart starts a war in my chest, then drops to my fluttering stomach.

It’s a mayhem of emotions that keep mounting with each passing second like overstimulation.

Overflow.

Overdose.

Daniel has always been beautiful, but his beauty is much more severe now. He’s beautiful not in an everyday-things kind of way, but as someone who’s meant to become an actor, a model, or make a living by selling his looks.

He’s grown tall and muscular over the years. Not in a buff way, but like a lean prince from a fairy tale. The blue Elites jacket complements his frame and envelops his wide shoulders like a second skin.

His hair has become darker, but there are still those streaks of blond like a natural balayage of latte and the rays of the sun.

The same sun that shines brighter in his star-filled eyes. They’re sharper now, having lost all the boyhood that once made him mischievous.

He’s just a player.

And not only on the football team, but generally. If someone had a shot every time he shagged a random girl, they would need their liver replaced by now.

He’s become popular, but not in a “stuck-up, you’re gross to even think you can talk to me” kind of way. But more like “I’m a bus and everyone is welcome for a ride” way.

Rumor has it, Daniel is the one person people need at their party if they want it to be a success. He’s laid-back, welcoming, charming.

To everyone but me.

I tried to keep myself as disinterested as possible from that part of him, but I know he probably had sex with Royal Elite’s entire female population and is branching out to other schools for up-and-coming vaginas.

I know because he’s not shy to tell Astrid about his sexcapades, to which she calls him a pig.

I know because I heard a girl describe sex with him as “an experience of a lifetime.”

I know because I had wet dreams that night and woke up touching myself and moaning into my pillow.

I know because I cried right afterward and it wasn’t from pleasure.

Usually, I retreat whenever he’s with Astrid. I give them space and pretend I don’t care.

Not today, though.

Today, I have a plan.

“Maybe I should go teach her some manners,” I say to the girls, plastering a smirk as fake as their daddies’ wigs.

Chloe snorts. “Not sure if it will work on a hopeless case like her, but go for it.”

“I’m in the mood for charity.” I flip my hair, blinding them with a splash of natural blonde. “How do I look?”

“Ten out of ten,” Hannah says, starry-eyed.

“A bad bitch.” Chloe grins. “Show us what you got.”

I flip my hair again, then walk to them while gently swaying my hips.

Before I reach them, I stop at the beverages table and grab two shots. I pretend to be adjusting my dress, then reach into my bra and retrieve the small bag of pills I bought the last time Chloe took me to a club.

When a random bloke asked me if I wanted to have fun and flashed me the pills, I told him, “Eww, gross.” But then the wires in my brain connected together.

I know what ecstasy does, or at least, I read about its effects and how it makes someone mindless with pleasure.