Empire of Lust

AGE THIRTY-FIVE

He walks our daughter—whom he considers only his—down the aisle, snatching everyone’s attention on the way. This is Gwyneth’s big day, but people are more mesmerized by her father, who can’t just keep a low profile. But then again, he’s always attracted everyone’s eyes, ears, and total existence like a powerful magnet. He stops in front of Nate, who’s been spellbound the entire time Gwen has been walking toward him. Kingsley kisses her forehead, then leans forward and whispers something in his friend’s ear—most likely a threat, because he was against this whole thing not too long ago. Then both he and Nate share a fake smile before he steps to his side to play the role of best man. I dig my nails into my palms for the duration of the ceremony, barely holding on to reality by a thread. If only I could have a drink or something to calm my nerves—obviously the one I had in the car before I walked in here wasn’t enough. By the time Nate kisses Gwen, my state of mind is about to break on the ground like fragile china. People rise, clapping and throwing out congratulations to the happy couple. I try to join, but my shaking legs fail me. I massage them once, twice, then suck in a deep breath and stand up right when they reach my row. Since I’m in the back corner, I don’t expect Gwen to see me, but she does. My daughter pauses for a second, and her unique heterochromia eyes, which are a mixture of my hazel irises and her father’s blue-gray ones, fill with tears. My lips tremble and it takes everything in me to smile instead of running to her and holding her in my arms. Once. Just once. That’s all I pray for and I’m not even the praying type. Actually acting on my wish would be awkward, embarrassing, and would definitely attract unwanted attention. She offers me a small, demure smile before Nate whisks her away to the reception area that’s set up around the back pool. Because, of course, this place has two pools. Everyone follows suit, some youngsters dancing to the music and having fun. A sudden chill grabs hold of me as my legs fail me and I drop back to my chair. After I make sure no one is looking, I retrieve the flask I keep in my handbag and take a sip. The burning taste of the tequila slowly snaps me to my senses. I inhale a calming breath as I’m about to stand up, congratulate the couple, then leave. There’s no point in staying longer if I’m going to make her uncomfortable. A shadow falls over me like doom from an apocalyptic movie. I smell him before I see him. His cologne has strong notes of cedarwood, pepper, and musk. As loud as he is, but not gutting. It’s subtle enough to announce his presence without him having to speak a word. “You’re done here. Get off my property.” I grind my teeth, but I fake a smile when I stare up at him. Okay, I should’ve really taken another sip of my drink. I’m never drunk enough to deal with this bastard. Men don’t unnerve me. In fact, I’ve learned to play their game, to climb in their ranks and snatch their positions until some have argued I have a manly personality myself. However, Kingsley is on the small list of those who drain me whenever I think of or, worse, deal with them. Sharing space with him is similar to being thrust underwater for minutes at a time. We’ve always clashed. f*****g always. I’m the angel on Nate’s shoulder—the one who’s as diplomatic as he is when it comes to dealing with the firm’s delicate matters and futuristic vision. A fact that pisses this bastard off because he’s the offensive type. The hit first, file charges later type. The punch them when they’re down type. In short, violence is his middle name and diplomacy has left the building of his egotistical, hellbound brain. “The wedding isn’t over,” I say in the sweet tone that gets on his last nerve. “I think that means I’m staying.” His eyes gleam and that highlights the tones of dark blue and stormy gray in them. They share the intensity of a sea hurricane, one that even pirates wouldn’t be able to survive. And when he glares down at me with his stupid god complex, it’s like he’s directing that destructive energy toward me with the sole purpose of destroying me. “Tell you what, witch. How about you leave and save us all the unpleasant sight of you?” “I decline.” “Either leave or I’ll report you for trespassing.” I stand, no longer weak in the knees and definitely charged up for a challenge. “I was invited. I have the invitation to prove it.” “As the owner of the property, I can revoke my hospitality at any time.” “If that word and you met in an alley, they’d shoot themselves and splash your precious Italian shoes with blood.” His face remains the same—timeless, emotionless, and utterly merciless. With the sun at his back, he appears as ominous as an old gothic chapel. “That’s two minutes since I rescinded my invitation, which should’ve been used to walk off my property.” “I’m not leaving until I congratulate my daughter on her wedding.” “You mean my daughter.” “I’m the one who gave birth to her.” “I’m the one who raised her during the twenty years you were out of the picture.” “For the thousandth time, I thought she was dead!” “For the thousandth time, I have zero f***s to give.” We both breathe heavily. Or I do. Kingsley Asshole Shaw has no problem making someone feel smaller than a poor fly on his shoulder before brutally murdering it. He’s the type of lawyer who advises his clients not to compromise, even when the other party abides by their demands. “You’ll get more if you sue” is his famous line, the bane of the opposition’s existence, and the reason behind his ruthless devil-may-care reputation. No wonder he’s the ace of criminal defense in the whole country—if not the world. But if he thinks his assholish methods will work on me, he doesn’t really know me. Or how far I’ll go to gain my daughter’s trust. To be part of her life and make up for the twenty years I lost. He retrieves an old gold Zippo and flicks it open, then closed. “Either you used your witch blood to summon a clone of yourself or you’re still here. Would you rather have the police drag you out?” “And risk a commotion at your own daughter’s wedding?” “Small sacrifices for the greater good.” “You’re unbelievable.” “And you’re still here.” “I’ll leave,” I say with a calm that doesn’t betray my need to stab him with the nearest sharp object. Because, unlike him, I don’t want any problems at my daughter’s wedding. “You’re not walking.” “I’ll only leave after I congratulate Gwen and Nate. Not a minute before.” “Allow me to decline the offer. Get the f**k out before I have you arrested.” “Then I’ll vandalize something on my way out.” “Then I’ll sue you.” “You have no grounds or witnesses, nor a strong case. Besides, it’s bad press to sue your own subordinate, not to mention it creates a hostile work environment.” I flip my hair. “You’re welcome for the reminder.” “Bad press means jack s**t to me. And you won’t be my subordinate for long.” He steps forward until he’s towering over me, stealing the air and replacing it with his stupid damn scent. “I’ll get you kicked out of my firm if it’s the last thing I do.” If his eyes were lasers, I would be incinerated right now. It’s no secret that Kingsley and I never got along before, but ever since he found out I’m Gwen’s mother, he’s been sprinkling my path with mines, trip wires, and an unhealthy dose of sabotage. He hates me with a passion that resembles the way he loathes his stepmother. And I don’t understand it. It’s not like we had any relationship prior to conceiving Gwen, and we definitely didn’t part with bad blood between us. It was one night. Nothing more, nothing less, unlike what the young version of me tried to think.