Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

“What about…” I clear my throat. “Astrid?”

“What about her?”

“You don’t visit her?”

“She visits me about twice a year and bugs me the rest of it with video calls and random texts about her annoying husband and loud spawns.”

My grip tightens on the fork. I knew he was still close with Astrid. I often heard them talking on the phone, and it was the only time he sounded carefree…happy. The only time his dimples were on display.

Doesn’t hurt any less.

The old, ugly pain has morphed into a knife and it’s currently stabbing at the surface, but I swallow the blade down with its blood.

“Good to see you’re still friends.”

“My turn to call bullshit, Peaches. You never liked Astrid.” He studies me closely. “Why?”

Because I was jealous of her. Of how easily she could make him laugh.

I still am.

“Stepsisters aren’t known to get along. Have you read Cinderella?”

“Boring and unrealistic.”

“It’s still true about the stepsisters part. I might have thought myself a princess, but I was the villain all along.”

“A gorgeous one at that.” He pauses. I pause. And it seems as if the entire plane pauses at his words.

Did he just call me…

“Did you just say I’m a gorgeous villain?”

He clears his throat. “You’re evading the actual subject. Was there any other reason why you didn’t like Astrid?”

“No.” I take a sip of my water.

Daniel unwraps the lollipop and sticks it in his mouth. It should be comical that a solicitor with as much charm and charisma as he has is sucking on a lollipop, but it’s the exact opposite.

He looks hotter than the sun and all of its planets and I have to stop myself from gawking like the teenage idiot version of me.

“How about you?” he asks.

“How about me?”

“Are you keeping in touch with any of your, and excuse my bloody French, pathetically vain, irrevocably selfish bitch friends?”

“They were never my friends.”

“Not even Chloe?”

“Not even her. She blocked me faster than cancel culture after Mum was arrested. Being acquainted with a murderer’s daughter was bad for her daddy’s business.”

“Her daddy is bad for his own business. He went bankrupt, so she got herself a sugar daddy instead.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, saw them in Boston once. Seventy years old and with a heart condition that can’t handle Viagra. Anyone can see her soul evaporating from her body, probably thinking about sucking that wrinkly dick for her next Rolls-Royce.”

It’s wrong, but I chuckle, unable to hold it in. “You’re bad.”

“She said that, too, when I gave her my card and informed her that once he’s dead, his sons will sue her for everything, including the Rolls-Royce. So all the dick sucking is for nothing. She had other choice words for me as well, but they’re as important as her existence. I don’t remember them.”

I smile, but it must appear sad, nostalgic. “She was the one who tattled on you, you know. She was always jealous of me and slept with every boy who showed interest in me. She told me so herself before she blocked me.”

His eyes narrow. “Maybe I’ll find her husband’s sons, after all. Do the world a favor and get rid of gold-diggers.”

“Are you serious?”

“Hundred percent. Though letting her suck wrinkly dick for a few more years is also tempting.”

“Aren’t you the vindictive one?”

“Never claimed otherwise.” He pops the lollipop out and I realize he was actually sucking on it all this time.

He didn’t crush it like he usually does.

My blood turns hot and a crazy idea materializes in my head.

Pushing my tray to the side, I lean over and wrap my lips around the candy.

My eyes remain on his as I suck on it. Fire erupts in his blue gaze, but then he releases the lollipop, a sheen of indifference covering his features.

I’m the one who crushes the candy this time, to match the havoc wreaking in my chest.

He doesn’t want to touch me, doesn’t even want to see me in a sexual light.

When he was the one who demanded to fuck me.

When he was the one who lit my world ablaze after years of being apathetically numb.

He really is disgusted with me, isn’t he?

Just like back then. It’s ending before it even started.





24





DANIEL





Nicole has been silent for exactly thirty minutes. It’s not only a record, but it should also be kept in a “warning signs” ledger.

At first, I pretend I’m utterly and completely fascinated with my iPad—despite not doing anything with it. Then I glared at the damn lollipop stick that I let fall to the ground and quietly questioned the object; what the fuck have you done to sour her mood?

Might want to ask yourself, mate, is what it silently communicated back.

Or maybe that’s the demon-like angel swinging on my shoulder.

Finally, I let the iPad fall to my lap and direct the glare at her phone that she’s fixated on as if it’s her new lover. What are the chances that I can switch places with that phone in the next three seconds?