Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

The jerk.

So what if he didn’t fuck that girl back then? If I didn’t ruin his evening with my epic chlamydia plan, he would’ve shagged Katerina all night long.

With a dash of orgies, as he informed me.

My fist clenches against my stomach and I fight the bitter taste of tears building behind my eyes.

I can feel myself stumbling, backpedaling, and falling back into a deep, dark abyss.

Into my old stupid, unhealthily obsessed self.

And just like then, it’ll only end in disaster and heartache as harsh as Daniel’s coldness.

“London,” he repeats as if I’m a child. “England. The United Kingdom. Great Britain.”

“I know where London is,” I spit back.

“Congratulations for having the geographical knowledge of a toddler.”

“Don’t talk to my sister that way.” Jay glares at him. “That’s mean.”

Daniel grunts, but he doesn’t reply. Instead he glances at me. “Book the tickets for the trip. We’re leaving today and returning on Monday.”

Jay’s eyes bug out as he swallows his pancakes. “We’re really going to London?”

“No,” I say with a force that rattles my body and causes Lolli to jump away from the seat next to me. Inhaling deeply, I stare at Daniel. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Make an appointment for it.” He doesn’t look at me as he reads the news on his iPad.

I show Jay my fakest smile. “Can you have the rest of your breakfast in your room, baby?”

He sighs. “I can’t continue living with you guys if you keep kissing every second. At least tone it down until I have my own place when I’m eighteen.”

“That’s not…” I trail off, lost for words.

“Are we really going to London, Dan?” my brother asks, completely ignoring me.

“Yes. Start packing,” he tells him, still lost in his iPad.

“Okay!” My brother trots to his room, holding a plate full of syrupy pancakes.

Daniel ordered them but didn’t eat a bite.

“I’m not going to London,” I tell him.

“Good thing you don’t have a say in it.”

“I have no reason to be there when the trial is weeks away.”

“I do.”

“Good for you. That doesn’t concern me.”

“You’re my assistant, so I say it does concern you.”

“Is this work-related?”

“In a way.”

“You only have golf and a few international calls this weekend. There was no fine print about London anywhere.”

“Emergency work.”

“Then go on your own.” I pluck the iPad from his hand, breathing as harshly as a cornered animal. “And look at me when you’re talking to me.”

He slowly lifts his head, his face a blank slate of emotions. A void with no intention of ever being filled.

And the worst part is that he looks like he’s in his element, extremely handsome in his khaki trousers and a white polo shirt with his brown hair styled and his face clean-shaven.

Why was I so worried about telling him again? It’s not like he cares.

Never did and never will.

“I know your face, Nicole. No need to worship at its altar all the time.” He pauses. “If I didn’t clarify it yet, you have no choice and you’re coming with me as my assistant.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“Your point?”

“I don’t want to go to England.”

“What you want means jack shit to me. We’re going and that’s that.”

“And if I refuse?”

He tilts his head to the side. “There’s no refusal option in your job contract. Unless you quit, of course.”

“I can’t leave Jay alone.”

“Which is why he’s coming with us. The time you’ve spent moaning could’ve been spent booking our flight tickets.”

He slides the iPad from my fingers and goes back to scrolling through BBC’s website because I heard him mention once that American news outlets are unreliable.

I hate that I hoard everything he says, that I remember the first word he said to me—peaches—and every single interaction we’ve had since.

I hate that I used to search for his gift for my birthdays first. His mum chose them and it was obligatory, but I still counted them as coming from him.

Still stared at them whenever it got hard and the world closed in on me.

Especially at the one item that I’ve hidden so well.

He reaches for a glass of water at the same time as me. Our fingers brush for a second, two—

He suddenly jerks his hand away, stands up, and stalks to his room.

My hand shakes as I pick up the water and down it all. But no amount of water could douse the fire inside me.

Or the familiar feeling that’s rearing its ugly head from the past.

The fact that no matter how much I showered or scrubbed my skin clean, I’m still filthy.





Several hours later, we're on our way to London.

I avoid a panic attack by watching Jayden nearly piss himself with excitement from being on a plane for the first time—technically, second, but he doesn’t remember that trip. First class, because God forbid Daniel travel any other way.