Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

The need to cry hits me like a natural disaster that demands to happen, but I don’t let the tears loose.

I stay.

I wait.

In the midst of the chaos, the fire, the firefighters.

I sit there and wait.

And wait.

But Daniel never came back for me.

And just like that, I’ve become invisible again.





10





NICOLE





PRESENT





The bastard.

The freaking cold-blooded, Machiavellian bastard with a villain complex.

I’m really starting to think that Daniel’s sole purpose of existing is to turn my life into a 3D nightmare.

It’s been two weeks since I became his assistant and he made every single day a rollercoaster ride. The type where you come out of it puking your guts up and cursing like a sailor on crack.

If I’m a minute late, he makes me work an extra hour. If one single thing isn’t done according to his snobbish requirements, he makes me redo it a thousand times, then throws it away.

I tried taking the high road, tried to ignore his cold barks and harsh words, but it keeps getting worse.

Almost as if he wants me to snap.

As if he’s provoking me to call him names and get myself fired.

But no.

I can do this.

Or more like, I have to.

Aspen got me in contact with one of her acquaintances in London. Andrew is an English solicitor specializing in family law and was most accommodating on the phone call we had. He told me that I have to be there for the court hearing in three months.

A no-show is bad for the records. He also said it’s a lucky break that I have a stable job in a law firm. That, and everything I’ve done for Jay through the years, will play in my favor.

What won’t, however, is how much I’ve moved him from state to state searching for better work opportunities. The fact that Jayden is a genius and should be treated as such means his father will argue that he has the means necessary to send him to the best schools out there. Not to mention that judges prefer biological parents if they prove they’ve redeemed themselves and want to take care of their children.

Last night, I stayed awake in bed, gripping my necklace and thinking maybe I should step on my heart and let Jay get the education he deserves. But I soon chased that thought away when I recalled who his father is.

There’s no way in hell I’ll let him live with an abusive predator, even if we have to sacrifice an elite education for it.

Aspen even said she’ll finance my flight and accommodation in England until I save up the money to pay her back.

She’ll also handle the solicitor’s fee.

“This is only an upfront investment,” she told me when I said I don’t know how I’ll pay her back. “You will go places, Nicole. I see it in your eyes and I hope you’ll also be able to see it soon.”

I didn’t tell her that I don’t even like thinking about or looking at myself. Not since that day at least.

But Aspen doesn’t need to be burdened by that. She’s my only ally at W&S and I intend to keep our relationship close.

When I asked her not to tell Daniel about any of this, she gave me a look, but she nodded.

The last thing I need is for Daniel or anyone from my past to get involved in my business.

I left England for a reason and I intend to keep it that way.

That is, if I don’t end up killing my boss and being charged with second-degree murder.

Inhaling a deep breath, I carry the documents he demanded to his office. Now, I just need to knock and then go in. He doesn’t demand I wait for his approval anymore.

He’s on his laptop, typing at a rapid speed, completely and utterly focused on his task.

I try not to get ensnared by the view, by how his lean fingers fly gracefully over the keyboard or how his brows slightly dip when he’s on a task.

I try not to ogle his masculine face or broad shoulders that nearly burst through his shirt. Or how the cuffs are rolled over his powerful forearms, which are now veiny, unlike when we were younger.

I really try.

But most days, I fail. Most days, I keep thinking there’s no harm in looking.

I’m just…looking.

Not dreaming, hoping, or fantasizing.

That foolish side of me was brutally murdered a long time ago.

“Are you going to spit out what you’re here for or do you plan to stand there like a second-rate statue?”

I’m used to his cold shoulder by now, but I can't help the heat that burns my cheeks or the clamping in my stomach. Thank God he’s focused on his laptop or he would've caught me ogling the hell out of him.

He finally spares me a glance, his eyes closed off, frosty as arctic ice. It’s as if he wants to shake me or choke me these days. I don’t know which, or why he’s awfully hostile.

I’ve been trying my best.

But that’s never enough for the perfectionist jerk.

“Are you sick, Ms. Adler, or do you look like a dreadfully undercooked squid for sport?”

Inhaling a calming breath, I walk up to him and place the documents on his desk, resisting the urge to throw them at his illegally attractive face. “I finished the draft, proofread it, and sent it to the paralegal and emailed her a copy. I also squeezed in a ten-minute meeting with her tomorrow before lunch. Your dry cleaning was sent to your house and I emailed you a summary of the cases HR sent you.”