Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

“He has his phone turned off inside the airport,” I lie through my teeth.

The thought of hearing Daniel’s voice makes me a nervous mess. I could barely talk to him about work-related things these past two days. Let’s say I’m thankful for the twelve-hour time difference.

“Can’t we go to the airport?”

“No, Jay. We can’t.” I release a breath. “Just go watch TV.”

He sulks as if I told him there will be no fish for a week, then hugs a fussing Lolli and throws himself on the sofa.

To give him credit, he really tries to stay awake by shaking his head and widening his eyes, but thirty minutes later, he’s out.

I cover him and Lolli, who’s sleeping on his leg. She whines and gives me the side-eye, drama-queen style, then goes back to her slumber.

“You miss him, too, huh?” I whisper to my brother, feeling a weight the size of a brick push off my chest.

I shouldn’t miss that damn jerk. Not when he’s made it his mission to turn my life into a colossal hell. But the emptiness I experienced these past two days are worse than a tomb’s silence.

With a sigh, I cover the food I made, then slip into his office. Another place where I can smell him.

Sometimes, a smell is enough. There needn’t be a touch or anything.

Just a smell.

One that’s composed of bergamot, lime, and maddening masculinity.

I would’ve gone to his bedroom, but I don’t want to get caught there if he comes in.

The space is large, clean, and has a vintage quality to it. The shelves and the desk are sturdy dark wood and the lounge area has one of those tall chesterfields that appears to be out of a historical show.

I get to organizing the files on his desk, even though there isn’t much of a mess. Then I move on to the drawers and pause when I open the first one.

My fingers tremble and my heart nearly spills at my feet.

I blink once, twice, unable to believe what the hell is in front of me.

The object doesn’t disappear.

My fingers shake as I wrap them around the smooth surface and lift it up.

This is not a dream.

Tiny glitters of fake snow jiggle around the girl, and my chest rattles just as hard.

I flip the snow globe, just in case it’s a lookalike, but the initials Papa had engraved at the bottom nearly send me weeping.

N. A.

But why?

Why would Daniel keep this snow globe…for twenty-one years? He clearly said he didn’t.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that he actually kept it.

“Picked up a snooping habit, I see.”

My head jerks up and my throat closes.

Daniel stands in the entryway like a dark warrior in a dashing navy blue suit.

The clashing color of his clothes with his eyes would’ve been mesmerizing if he weren’t in the process of eating me alive with those eyes.

Tearing me to pieces.

Scrutinizing every part.

“Why…” My voice is an airy breath and I swallow in a helpless attempt to speak properly. “Why do you have this?”

He strides to me in a few quick steps, erasing the distance between us along with any semblance of sanity I was holding on to with chopped off, bloodied fingers.

Daniel grabs the snow globe, but I don’t release it, so it remains suspended between us.

“When I thought I lost it back then, I asked you if you’ve seen it and you said you threw it away. You told me to get over myself because this thing meant nothing.”

“It doesn’t.” The icy coldness of his tone doesn’t fool me anymore. I’m starting to think he uses it as a camouflage for something much deeper.

“If it means nothing, you wouldn’t have kept it for twenty-one years, Daniel.”

“It must’ve ended up with the rubbish.”

“Bullshit.” I square my shoulders.

“You might want to watch your language if you want to win the Prude of the Year award.”

“You’re not changing the subject.” My lips tremble. “Tell me why you still have this? Why did you lie about throwing it away?”

He purses his lips and a muscle tics in his jaw, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Did you lie about other things?” My voice is broken, thick with too many emotions. “Are there other lies I need to know about?”

“Let’s start with yours first.” He pulls the snow globe from between my fingers, throws it in the drawer, and slams it shut.

Then his big, hot hands wrap around my waist and the world slips from beneath my feet. He’s lifting me up, I realize, but before I can react, my butt meets the solid surface of the desk.

“W-what is this?”

“I specifically mentioned I was going to need answers when I got back. Start talking.”

My palms find his shoulders and I push, but I might as well be attempting to move a building. “Why do you want to know?”

“Don’t concern your smart brain with that. All you have to do is spit out the reason you acted that way when I touched you.”

I stare to the side. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe I don’t fucking care about what you want.” His fingers dig into my sides. “Now look at me and speak. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

I don’t think about what I do next.