Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

During dinner, Jayden, my only ally aside from a fickle Lolli, asks, “How did you guys meet?”

Nicole stares at her brother, then at me. “We went to the same school.”

“That wasn’t the official meeting. We didn’t even talk at school.” I sip the soup, half amazed that I can talk while eating, half tempted to throw it all up.

“When did you start to talk then?” Jayden asks.

“When I saved her from an allergic reaction. She would’ve died if it weren’t for me.”

“That’s not true,” Nicole says.

“Want to call the doctor? You were asphyxiating.”

Jayden’s eyes widen. “Because of peaches?”

“That’s right, mate. Your sister knew she was allergic to them but still stole them and hid to eat them.”

“I didn’t use to have that strong of an allergic reaction,” she grumbles around a bite of food. “I’ve never eaten peaches since that day.”

“You just suck on those lollipops instead and slap the color anywhere physically possible.”

“I do not.”

“Your phone case is peach-colored.”

“It was the only one available.”

“Your Post-it Notes are also peach-colored.”

“Coincidence.”

“Debatable.”

Jayden stares between us half oblivious, half curious about the tension that’s about to catch flames. “Did you become close after that?”

I snort, “Not after she ratted me out as the culprit who gave her the peaches.”

“I never said that,” she blurts. “Mum and Aunt Nora deduced it on their own.”

“Nice try.” I drink a whole glass of water, amazed I don’t choke on it. “Now you’ll tell me you didn’t snitch on me the dozen times that followed.”

“I did not.”

“Then why did you follow me around with the devil swinging on your shoulders?”

Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You always do that,” she spits out. “Assuming things and confirming them without even asking me about them.”

“You never offered an explanation.”

She lifts her chin. “I have nothing to explain to you.”

“Fantastic.”

“Brilliant.”

Jayden releases a long sigh, shaking his head like an old man. “Should I go to my room now? Are you going to start kissing?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Nicole hisses.

“Never,” I say at the same time.

“Thank God.” Jayden lifts a shoulder. “It’s gross anyway.”

No, it’s not.

But I don’t say that and, instead, choose to stuff my face with repulsive food that suddenly doesn’t feel so repulsive anymore.

Nicole glares at me and I glare right back.

Play all you want, Peaches. I’ve already won this game.





20





DANIEL





Celibacy is a cranky bitch with withdrawal issues.

My dick hates me. My body hates me.

I hate me.

Not enough to crack, though.

I survived a week and a half without sex before. What’s four days?

Apparently, around four decades in human years according to my teenage-level hard-ons whenever that fucking woman is in sight.

It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, a hot as fuck dress, simple jeans, or a long robe. All I feel is the need to fuck her until neither of us can breathe properly.

That night, right after she told me the E-word and I said in no uncertain terms that she could go suck it, I ran into her in the kitchen while she was making some apricot juice. I’m going to bet my career and left nut that she drinks it because it’s the most similar fruit to peaches. But anyway, when my hand brushed against hers not so accidentally, she glared at me with that snobbishness that made me both hard and irritated as a fireball.

She motioned at herself and said, “This is off-limits.” Then she flipped her golden locks and stalked back to her room.

I needed to stop myself from going after her or else we’d have second-degree murder on our hands.

My dick and I still haven't decided what we think about her newfound confidence. She’s glowing with it like an angel flying above God’s shoulder. Not that she didn’t have it a few weeks ago, but she was keeping it under wraps, bowing her head and biting her tongue to keep her job—and Jayden.

Lately, however, her old self is starting to peek through the cracks. And as much as I wanted to fuck that Nicole into oblivion, I didn’t really like her.

She wasn’t confident. She bordered on arrogant with mean-girl tendencies and a bitch sign slapped on her forehead.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t clip those wings before she morphs back into her old self.

“Your coffee,” she says sweetly, bending over so half her tits are nearly hanging out of her blouse.

I grab the edge of the desk.

Down, Junior. It isn’t your time to shine yet.

Pretending she doesn’t exist—which is as successful as ignoring global warming—I take a sip of my coffee and listen to her enumerating today’s schedule.

I throw the coffee in the rubbish can.