Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

It’s a view I’ve been actively trying to recreate every chance I get.

Before I open the door, however, I see her leaning against her desk, facing the wall and holding a phone to her ear.

Although her back is the only thing visible, her shoulders are tense and her spine is snapped in a line.

Instead of my plan of forceful entry, I slowly open the door. She doesn’t pay me any attention as she manically taps her foot on the floor.

“…I know. I’m sorry, hon. I promise to come a bit earlier today, so wait for me and don’t fall asleep, okay? I’ll make your favorite dish.”

A red haze covers my vision and I’m close to punching the wall.

I don’t, though.

I shouldn’t be even thinking about such violence.

“Are you having personal calls while working, Ms. Adler?”

She startles and stumbles forward before catching herself at the last second. The phone falls to her side and she stares at me with that frozen expression again.

Only, this time, I find no pleasure in it. The usual feeling is muddying with something else entirely nefarious and somber.

“I…” she trails off.

“You’re what? Does the firm pay you to talk on the phone?”

“I didn’t think…”

“Obviously. Are you daft?”

“I’m not daft.” She lifts her head. “Stop calling me that.”

“Then stop doing daft actions. Have another personal phone call while working and it’ll be your last. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“And drop the fucking attitude. I mean it, Nicole. You’re not the one with superiority here.”

She purses her lips, but she doesn’t make the situation worse and remains silent.

I throw the document on her desk. “I need that back in twenty minutes. Get to it.”

Then I return to my office and close the shutters before I act on the animalistic urge inside me.

Hon.

That’s what she said.

Fucking hon.

And don’t sleep. Wait for me.

And she’ll make him his favorite dish.

Since fucking when does she even cook?

She’s always been a princess. Always tended to and served one way or another. So who the fuck would she cook for? Who the fuck would she hold in such high regard?

I pull out my phone and call the only person who can explain this clusterfuck.

She answers with a long, excited, “Bug!!”

Muse’s music filters from her end. She’s been obsessed with that band ever since we were teenagers.

“Hey, Bugger.”

That’s what my best friend and I have called each other since we were fifteen. Ever since I saw stars on her wrist and thought they were bugs. I asked her if that’s what they were and she was offended because they were the last tattoos her mother did. She swung around to punch me, but we lost balance and fell together in the pool.

Then we were pushing each other while trying to climb out and fell into it again.

We burst out laughing and have been inseparable ever since. Astrid is the only one who’s never judged me for being a troublemaker, for being too flashy and fickle.

She says she understands I’m doing it for a reason. I’m acting out for a reason, and she’s there to listen.

I could never find a more loyal friend than her. She’s my ride or die. The one I would go to a survival game with and know we’ll both come out of it riding our unicorns toward the sun.

Muse’s music lowers in volume and she asks in a serious tone, “What is it? Are you okay? Should I fly to New York and beat up whoever is bothering you?”

“Easy there on the violence, Bug. This isn’t the Vikings.”

“The world would be much easier if it were, just saying. So? What’s up?”

“Why do you think something is up?”

“You sound weird.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Well, I am a mother, so I have a different gut feeling. Speaking of mums, yours kinda misses you. It’s okay if you call for more than a minute per decade.” I can imagine the eye roll without having to see it.

Old pain resurfaces, but I clamp it down. “She has her favorite son with her and that’s not me.”

“How can you say that, Dan? You chose to go to the States and Zach chose to stay.”

“I chose to go to the States after she chose Zach. But my mini family drama isn’t why I called.”

“Then what is?”

“I want to ask you something, but I won’t unless you promise you won’t be mad.”

“Why would you ask about something that will make me mad?”

“Just promise you won’t be.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Have you…heard anything about Nicole since she left?”

There’s a pause on the other end and I grip the phone tighter. “Astrid?”

“Why are you asking about her all of a sudden?”

“Just tell me. Do you know anything about her?”

“She cut me and Dad completely out of her life. You know that.”

“Surely Uncle Henry tried to get in touch with her at some point? He didn’t hate her as much as he hated her mother.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You sound annoyed right now, which means you’re hiding something.”