Empire of Hate: A Second Chance Enemies to Lovers Romance

“You’re fired.”

My mouth falls open in an O.

If I hadn’t been a zombie who didn’t sleep for the whole night and had to hug a small box I shouldn’t have kept, I would’ve probably processed the words better.

Or maybe I did, but my brain is unable to catch up.

Jay has had a nasty fever and, even worse, asthma that made him wheeze for breath without his inhaler. I found him squeezed in a ball beside the sofa while Lolli fussed around him.

I had to take him to the emergency room at midnight and monitor his fever all night long.

Apparently, he’s been feeling sick for a few days, which is why he went to sleep early. When I asked him why he didn’t tell me, he said he didn’t want to worry me or distract me from my “twat” of a boss.

My eyes are puffy from so much crying by his bedside. I cried for not being there for him, for making him an adult trapped in a child’s body, and especially for not seeing the signs of his sickness.

The doctor told me his asthma will get worse with the fever and I should keep a better eye on him.

I only breathed a sigh of relief this morning when the temperature went down and Jay even got up and took a shower.

I made him food, gave him his pills, and told him I’ll try to come back early today.

The chance to bring up the subject to Daniel hasn’t even risen yet, and he just told me I’m fired.

Ever since that night in his flat a week ago, he’s been colder than usual, standoffish. Proper insufferable.

However, I took it all in.

The jerk attitude and the snobbish tendencies.

I even became accustomed to it and his dark sense of sarcasm that he showers me with on an everyday basis.

It’s become a routine, especially since he completely abandoned Katerina’s restaurant and started to eat the meals I make. He even let me surprise him with what type of dish it would be.

Good thing is, I now bring in my food and his. Bad thing is, I shouldn’t be feeling a sense of pride every time he licks the dish clean. Not once has he thrown out my food, unlike what he sometimes did to Katerina’s.

The worst part of all is that I can’t stop thinking about the way he touched me that night or his tone when he asked me what happened after I left.

A question that made me mad and sad at the same time. A question that I carried with me for eleven damn years and still can’t find the answer to.

What really happened?

How did fate bring me to his doorstep to be his glorified slave just so he’d fire me?

I stare at his imposing presence behind his desk, clad in a dark gray suit and his groomed lawyer look. “Excuse me?”

“You are excused. Take your stuff with you on the way out. If you leave anything behind, I’ll throw it away.” Daniel shifts his attention to his laptop and completely erases me from his vicinity.

As if I were insignificant.

Unimportant.

Invisible.

If it were the past, I would’ve tucked my tail between my legs and left. I would’ve accepted my “not seen” status and just disappeared.

Or watched from afar.

Not now, though.

Not when Jay’s future depends on it.

“Why are you firing me?” I ask in a clear, neutral voice.

“I don’t need a reason to determine that you failed the trial period.” His concentration is absorbed by whatever’s on the monitor.

“But I want to know.”

“I don’t explain myself to you or anyone else, Ms. Adler. Don’t forget to pass by HR so you’ll get paid for the average work you’ve been doing these past three weeks.”

A hot fire courses through me, and I have no clue if it’s because of his scathing words or the fact that he completely ignores me as he says them, or maybe, just maybe, this is an overflow for all the pent-up energy that’s been building inside me for weeks.

Slamming my palms on his desk, I lean over so my face is right above his stupid screen. “My work isn’t average.”

“You’ve been consistently late in some way. My coffee isn’t always one gram of sugar—that is, if it came on time. You have the habit of talking back and offering your unnecessary opinions. I called your work average as a form of a parting gift. If you want the truth, your work for the past three weeks has been nothing short of disastrous.” He checks his watch, then slides his attention to me. “And you’re five minutes late.”

“That’s because I had an emergency. Jay had a fever and I had to nurse him all night long. He wouldn’t have had the fever if you didn’t keep me working until unreasonable hours.”

“You won’t have to anymore, because you’re fired. And spare me the details about your love life.” There’s a bite in his tone, an ice-cold harshness that rattles me to the bones.

A frown etches itself between my brows. “That’s not…”

“Out. We’re done here.”

My lips tremble and it takes everything in me to trap the tears of frustration from spilling free. “You never meant to employ me long-term, did you? It was a game of yours, all this time, you only wanted to play around with me, then chew me out as if I never existed. It didn’t matter if I busted my butt for you, if I woke up at dawn to cook your freaking meals or bring your precious coffee on time. It doesn’t matter if I endured your sadism or your abrasive behavior. If I sacrificed my personal time to tend to your demanding schedule and every selfish whim. No matter what I did, you would’ve found a reason to fire me.”

“Congratulations for finally figuring it out.”

My plans fall to pieces in front of my eyes, and all I can do is stand there and watch, then silently mourn the pieces. Without being able to pick them up.

“I hate you,” I murmur before I realize it.

“Your feelings for me or the lack thereof mean jack shit to me, Nicole.”

I knew that, ever since a long time ago, but I still wanted to hurt him. Still wanted to sink my nails so deep into him, he wouldn’t be able to breathe without feeling pain.

“You were always a jerk wrapped in good-boy looks, Daniel. You might have charmed everyone, but I saw the ugliness in you. I saw the boy who was so disgusted with himself, he made it his mission to make everyone love him. Daddy issues, wasn’t it? I saw you that day, when we were twelve. You witnessed your father with a woman who wasn’t your mother and came out from the restaurant, then threw up your food. It’s why you’ve hated pesto and parmesan ever since. Why you barely eat anything, why you’re pickier than royalty and just as snobbish. Your little-boy dreams about your father were tarnished, so you decided to grow up into a worse version of him. You grew up into a cardboard imitation of a human. I pity you, I truly, most definitely do—”

My venomous words are cut off when he abruptly stands up, erases the distance between us, and grabs me by the arm, then flings me against the wall. And it’s a full-blown fling.

A yelp spills from my throat as my back hits the wall and he stands in front of me like a ruffled savage.

He’s breathing so harshly, his dress shirt nearly rips from the abrasiveness of it.

Only an inch separates my breasts from his heaving chest. If I take a deep inhale, I won’t only be able to smell him, I’ll also become one with him.

As tempting as that option is, the expression on his face isn’t. For the first time since that “night,” he’s not put-together or businesslike in his coldness.

Something is melting his ice. Anger, maybe, or rage—the black kind.

“How dare you say you pity me when you’re the pitiful one? You came begging for a job as my assistant. A job where I can eat up your life for breakfast and throw out the leftovers for the dogs. You’re no longer in your untouchable tower, Nicole. You’re no longer a princess or a bloody fake goddess, so don’t pretend a crown is sitting on your fucking head.”

“Maybe you should stop pretending that the world revolves around you.”

“Never pretended. My own world does revolve around me and you’re a mere nuisance in it. One I’ll crush before it becomes an issue.”

I try to pretend his words didn’t just cut me open, slide into my wound, and ruin its infected stitches. I try to pretend I’m not affected by his words or his accusations or his…presence that’s enveloping me in a vise-like grip.

“I should’ve never given you my lollipops,” I whisper quietly, lamely.

Every time he hid from people to throw up from the sight of food, I followed close, pretended I saw him by coincidence, and slipped one of my precious lollipops in his hand.

In his bag.

In his jacket.

On the bench beside him.

Anywhere.

Then I stayed behind to see if he’d throw it away like he does with food when no one’s looking. But he didn’t. Every single time, he stuck the lollipop in his mouth and then crunched it instead of savoring it.

He still ate it, which was all that mattered.

And I made it a habit to slip a lollipop or two in his bag every day.

He probably forgot about that, though. He seems to have crossed the past from his life.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I hated them as much as I hate you.” He leans close, so close that I breathe in his air. “You also shouldn’t have come here after everything that went down.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“We’ll rectify that then. Get out and don’t ever come back. If we meet by chance, pretend you don’t fucking know me. I’ll do the same.”

A hiccup the size of a ball gets stuck in my throat, but instead of bawling my eyes out in front of him, I run out of his office.

Out of his reach.

Out of his toxic presence.

Then I finally let the tears loose.

Just like I did eleven years ago.