Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

He ignored me most of the flight, opting to have a fixation with his iPad.

Whenever Jay talks to him, however, he engages him and even smiles, dazzling the whole crew with his dimples.

So the problem is me.

I’m the one he doesn’t want to spare a glance.

The one who needlessly and embarrassingly told him everything, hoping he’d finally see my side of the story.

Not anyone else’s. Mine.

After two hours, Jay collapses into sleep, his neck lolled awkwardly. I shake my head as I maneuver him to a more comfortable position.

All while trying to ignore Daniel, who’s sitting across from me, still ignoring me.

When the attendants bring food, he flat out refuses it.

I rummage through my bag and retrieve a small sandwich I made, then place it and a lollipop on his table.

“Take them back,” he says without looking at me.

“I didn’t bring them for you. I just happened to have them, so you might as well eat.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not eating either.”

He tilts his tablet to the side to stare at me. “Did you abandon your common sense in a different time zone? Why the fuck would you starve because I’m choosing not to eat?”

“I like company when I eat.”

“The whole plane is your company.”

“I don’t know the whole plane. So if you don’t want me to starve, you might as well pick up that sandwich.”

“Whether you starve or stuff your stomach with food has zero effect on me.”

I pretend his words don’t create holes inside me as I fake a smile and act like I’m scrolling through my phone.

But I don’t eat.

Masochism is apparently one of my traits. Or maybe I’m trying to see if he really doesn’t care about me.

The wait is exactly ten minutes. With a grunt, he unwraps the sandwich and takes a big bite. He pauses, probably his nausea hitting him, but then he chews slowly and swallows.

I can’t help but grin as I grab my fork and knife.

“Wipe it off,” he growls.

“What?” I ask innocently, taking a bite of the meatballs.

“That fucking smile on your face.”

That only allows it to widen and he releases a sound, but he doesn’t say anything as he finishes the sandwich in a few more bites.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then who did you do it for?”

“Myself, so I don’t have to carry you when you faint.”

“Whatever you say, Dan.”

His lips twist. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It disarms you?”

“More like it revolts me. That sandwich is trying to find its way out in a less glamorous way than how it went in.”

I see it then. The reason behind his cold, cutting words. It’s clear in the depth of his eyes, right below the surface, there’s a vulnerability, a weakness he’s going the extra mile to hide.

“If you say so,” I say sweetly, which clearly pisses him off. But before he can come back with his sarcastic, hurtful remarks, I change the subject. “When was the last time you went back to London?”

“Never.”

I pause eating. “Really?”

“Want a look at my travel history?”

“But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why have you never gone back?”

“England is too small for me now.”

“Bullshit.”

He lets the iPad drop on his lap and glares at me. “Getting fluent in cursing, I see.”

“I learned from the best. And you’re not changing the subject. Why have you never gone back to England?”

“I don’t like the people there. That once included you, by the way.”

I ignore his attempts to egg me on. “What about your family?”

“My last words to Mum before I left were, ‘Grow a fucking backbone, Nora.’ Dad died in an accident with his mistress of the month after I told him to go fuck himself. My brother hates me because of all of the above.”

The food gets stuck in my throat. I was completely unaware of this, but I did hear about Benedict Sterling’s death during my first year in university. His gruesome accident was all over the news.

I remember the itch to check on Aunt Nora. She sent me chocolates and food after Mum’s scandal and was the only one out of the community who didn’t treat me as if I were a monster.

When her husband died, I wanted to visit her and be there for her. But the possibility of running into Daniel made me shrink back into my unwelcome university setting faster than a turtle into its shell.

“So you’re estranged from your family?”

“Congratulations on your newfound deduction skills, Sherlock.”

“You…don’t even talk on the phone?”

“Not really.”

“Even to Zach?”

“Especially to him, he speaks to me like a robot ever since he became the head of the family business. And the name is Zachariah.”

That was definitely annoyance in his tone, but I’m not entirely sure of the reason behind it.

“But you guys were so close.”

“Not enough, apparently.” A grim shadow covers his face and I’m not sure if it’s because he hates how much he grew apart from his brother or something else.