Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

I had this thought that was basically “what the fuck are you doing, Daniel?” and decided to let her go home.

Until I had a glass of whiskey—or two, that is—and started imagining her with her “family.” The same family she was on the phone with the other day and called “hon.”

No clue why, but I became equal parts annoyed and murderous.

That’s why I magically invented a contract and ordered her to come over.

The girls just showed up on their own because I sent a half-drunk text.

It doesn’t even take effort anymore. They see my face on magazine covers and hop on my lap like kittens with separation anxiety.

It’s all too easy. Too convenient.

Too fucking boring.

I don’t have a goal in life aside from building a career, I guess. I don’t even think about opening my own firm like Knox does, because…well, I didn’t choose law because I could see myself practicing it for life. I chose it because it was the farthest thing possible from my beloved family affairs.

I don’t have that, either. A family, I mean. Not after Father fucked every escort his assistant could get her hands on, then died while he was with one of them. Fitting as fuck, if you ask me.

As for my mother, she checked out years ago, not to mention she always preferred Zach over me. To say our relationship is stagnant would be the understatement of the century.

We barely speak. Actually, change that to never.

I haven’t visited England since I left it.

Not even once.

If Astrid misses me, she makes a trip here, but those trips have become few and far between ever since she had three spawns.

I swear that fucker Levi keeps knocking her up for sport.

Point is, I might have subtly cut myself off from the family tree, but I’ve done well for myself and got everything I strived for.

The only thing that’s not easy, convenient, or boring is the woman standing in front of me, her blonde strands about to catch fire from the flames in her eyes.

They’re so light and green and fake.

She is fake.

Or was.

Either way, I want to fucking strangle her for it.

The feeling is mutual apparently, because she looks about ready to transform into a hulk and smash me into the nearest wall.

“You’re here,” I drawl the words nonchalantly with boredom in my voice.

“Obviously.” She throws a dirty look at the girls who are still clinging to me as if they’re extensions of my body. “I thought there was a contract to review.”

“There is. Over there, on the table.”

“You clearly have company.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t work.”

“If you’re too preoccupied with other things, surely this can wait until tomorrow.”

“It can, but you’ll work on it tonight. Now, sit your arse on that chair and proofread the contracts.”

She purses her lips, which is her way to stop from spouting nonsense, then whirls around in a cloud of metaphorical smoke and forcefully sits down.

I expect to see ashes surrounding her, but none appear.

Yet.

The girls giggle, smelling of strong perfume that nearly bleed my nostrils. One of them kissing me on the cheek. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

“We’ll make you feel good,” the other says.

Apparently, it’s not quiet enough, because even though Nicole is focused on the documents and the tablet, her leg bounces under the table and her lips are set in a thin line.

I know because I’m watching her like a hawk. My attention isn’t on the girls, it’s on her.

The ice in my whiskey clinks as I swirl it and take a sip. “You can start right here.”

They giggle again, and the sound is annoying. What are they, preschoolers?

Nicole never giggled. Not even as a child. She always had elegance and was the walking form of proper manners. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing her laugh either.

And probably never will, considering my status as the warden of her hell.

One of the girls lowers herself between my legs and I lazily open them wide, letting her settle in the middle.

She looks like a malnourished pubescent, which I know she’s not, but the fact that she reminds me of a minor is a major turn-off.

Or maybe the whole fucking scene is.

I keep comparing them to Nicole’s voluptuous body that’s become sexier than a porn star’s. Not that she wasn’t hot back in school, but she’s all grown up now.

All woman.

The girl brings my attention back to her when her fingers latch onto my belt and she meets my eyes with a seductive look. “I’ll start. Remember when you told me I’m good at giving head?”

No, I don’t, but I nod absentmindedly anyway. “You’re a doll.”

Nicole jerks up to a standing position, taking the documents with her. “I’ll finish these in the kitchen.”

I resist a smirk by taking a sip of my drink. “You’ll finish them right there.”

“It’s distracting.”

“I pay you to tune that out. Sit down.”

She glares at me, but there’s something else in there, hatred and a feeling I can’t identify.

When she doesn’t make a move to comply, I jerk my head to the chair. “Sit the fuck down if you want to keep your job.”