Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

“I choose the third.”

“There’s no third option.”

“There will be after you tell me the whole custody fiasco.”

“Why would I?”

I grind my teeth and catch Knox grinning in the background and throwing imaginary popcorn in his mouth.

An hour ago, I was contemplating burning my office and detaining myself for my foolish behavior.

An hour ago, I was burning with fire because she said she spent the night taking care of her lover whose name is Jay.

An hour ago, I felt no different than the teenage me who couldn’t stop looking at her as she sucked on those damn lollipops where no one could see.


And I hated it.

All of it.

Now, I also hate it as I say, “Because I’m possibly the only one who can help her.”





15





NICOLE





“Nikki?”

I sniffle, wiping my eyes on the back of my shirt sleeve. I’m glad I bought this thing at a store sale and wouldn’t mourn it being ruined with blotches of tears.

The thing is, I kind of spent the whole morning and some of the afternoon crying like a crazy lady behind a tree in a nearby park.

I just couldn’t go back to Jay looking like shit—though that’s an epic failure on my part—and I had to think about a lot of things. Such as how desperate I am to beg Daniel.

And I am desperate.

Extremely so.

But I broke any semblance of professionalism between us by bringing up his wound. The wound he hid so well that normal people would never have noticed.

Hell. Even his mother didn’t, and I suspect Astrid didn’t either, considering how much she always liked to shove food in his face.

But then again, I was never normal when it came to Daniel.

I was either obsessed, completely unhinged, or desperate.

Just not desperate enough to go beg him.

He wouldn’t take me back anyway, not when he looked two seconds away from strangling me—and not in a fun way.

Maybe if he cools down, I can muster the courage to talk to him? That’s the plan anyway. I think he’s better to approach when he’s not in his devil suit, channeling the Lucifer in him to make other people’s lives hell.

And that time is usually at night.

For that, I need to make him a nice meal and take it to his flat—that is, if he didn’t put my face and name on the “call the police once spotted” dial.

Trying to remain positive, I spent the afternoon grocery shopping for dinner and shushing my inner sinister voice that told me no amount of food will make him agree.

It’s the reason behind these fresh tears, but anyway, screw that voice.

I won’t know until I try.

Jay trots in front of me, wearing his Minions pajamas and socks, proudly displaying an obsession he never outgrew.

“You’re back early.” Instead of sounding happy, he frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” I touch his forehead. I called him a few times and he said he was better, but I have to personally make sure. “Your fever is really gone.”

“You thought I was lying to you?” He narrows his little eyes on me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You called me so many times today and even came home early. Are you in trouble because of me?”

“What? Of course not.” I take the shopping bag to the kitchen.

“You’re lying to me, Nikki. I’m a man now; you can tell me if something is wrong.”

“Oh, my little rascal is a man?” I turn around and attack his sides. “I didn’t realize, knowing how ticklish you are.”

He breaks out in laughter and runs away. I catch up to him and wrestle him to the sofa, tickling him until he’s about to lose his breath.

He loves this game a bit too much, but I can’t do it for long or I’ll aggravate his asthma.

“This is oddly domestic.”

I freeze, thinking I’m probably losing my mind. That velvety deep voice can exist anywhere but here.

In my home.

My eyes must resemble a deer caught in the headlights as I stare at him. Wide. Unblinking.

He stands in the middle of the living area like the Grim Reaper with a sole target.

Me.

I slowly ease off Jay and smooth down my wrinkled skirt. “D-Daniel? What are you doing here?”

“The door was open. Might think about locking the thing in the future, considering you live in a shithole.”

My cheeks redden at his easily delivered harsh words. He’s not even looking at me. His entire attention is on Jay, who’s straightening up and squaring his shoulders, which is extremely comical when coupled with his Minions outfit.

“No one invited you to this shithole.” Jay stands in front of me like a protective shield. “And who are you?”

“Nicole’s boss, who’s pissed off at her.”

“Does that mean you’ll fire her?” There’s a note of caution in Jay’s tone.

“Already done, Minion.”

I wince as Jay stares up at me with a hint of betrayal. “You said you had no trouble. Why did you lie?”

“That’s kind of been her modus operandi since we were kids,” Daniel supplies unnecessarily.

“You’ve known each other since you were children?”

“Since about your age, kid.”