Empire of Hate: A Second Chance Enemies to Lovers Romance

In my attempts to get my head out of my arse—or more accurately, my dick—I’m entertaining the mayor in a golf game this weekend.

He invited most of the partners at W&S. Most, as in, the ones he deems worthy of his precious games. That includes the two owners, Knox, and me.

Knox, being a twat on borrowed time, promptly declined. Mayor Jefferson, an old man with a shock of white hair and brows that should see scissors, couldn’t even take offense.

Not when Knox is engaged to a Russian mafia princess. The same mafia whose drug-filled arses he kissed to get to where he is.

Corrupted wealth in a corrupted city in a corrupted world.

Just my scene.

Nate and King showed up, though, clad in their tailored slacks and polo shirts.

This whole thing is part of their networking schemes so their firm keeps representing pigs like Mayor Jefferson and extorting their money.

“This is more boring than monogamy,” King says, hitting a beagle.

Nate side-eyes him as if he’s speaking an alien language. “You don’t even know what that term means.”

“Your point?”

“How would you know it’s boring if you’ve never tried it?”

“You’re going backward. I know it’s boring, which is why I avoid it as much as Switzerland stays out of war.”

“Flawed logic, King. You like war.”

“There will definitely be war on your motherfucking ass if you think about anything outside of monogamy.”

“Never said I would. I happen to be happily married.”

“To my fucking daughter.” He swings his club in the air. “Even your happiness depends on me. Better keep that in mind next time you take sides, my dear son-in-law.”

“Will do when you check your ego into a mental institute.”

A silent war of glares and stares starts between them.

I tactfully slide to their side. “Excuse my bloody French and interruption, but Jefferson can probably fucking hear you calling his game boring.”

“That old tool has hearing problems.” King smiles and waves at him to which he waves back. “He wouldn’t hear a whore calling his son’s name.”

“You’re one to know.” Nate takes a sip of water. “Considering all the whores you fuck on a regular basis.”

“They’re called escorts, and I swear to fuck, if you bring that up to Gwen…”

“A little misleading that she still sees you as a saint when you’re a demon, but I won’t be the one who breaks her heart. You know she still holds out hope that you’ll settle down, right?”

“Make her abandon it then. I won’t give up sex for the white fence nightmare.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Danny?”

A few months ago, I would’ve hollered “Fuck yeah” and taken my car to the nearest club. Sometimes, the riding happened during the drive.

Now the words can’t even leave my lips. They’re stuck between my teeth like annoying fish bones.

A week.

It’s been a week since I fucked Nicole again.

A week of constant sex every time I could get her alone.

A week of bribing Jayden with Despicable Me merch—holy fuck, who knew there was tons of that shit?—so he could beat it to his room and let me fuck his sister.

In my flat, naturally.

I didn’t let them go back to their place from hell, so we’re all stuck in that “Are we living together?” phase.

Though, I’m going to make her break the lease for that hellhole sooner or later. Even after I’m out of the picture, I’ll find her a better place to stay at.

That’s too many depressing thoughts about the future—or not, depending on how I should look at it.

Back to more cheerful news, on top of which is fucking Nicole.

The downside is, I can’t fuck her when Jayden is out and about in the flat like her third-class bodyguard. So I have to do it at night, thankful as fuck for soundproof walls.

There are the occasional Peeping Tom sessions from Lolli, but she soon remembers she doesn’t give a fuck and stalks to her next cat adventure.

Touching her in the flat isn’t enough, though, so I lock us in my office and take her against the table, wall, floor. Any surface that’s available to shove my cock in her warm pussy, basically.

For the sake of my sanity and my dick-shaped ego, I have the decency to pretend that I’m getting her out of my system.

The plan is still ongoing and working like a charm.

It has nothing to do with how much my dick only comes alive around her or that I’ve been obsessed like a second-rate creep with her peach-smelling blonde locks while she sleeps.

Or the fact that I’ve been diligently undergoing one sex marathon after the other as if she’s an assignment and I’m studying for the bar all over again.

And it definitely has nothing to do with the way her body fits around mine like a vise.

But maybe it does have to do with the way she stiffens whenever I start to touch her. Only at the beginning, though. She attempted to close her eyes at some point, too, but I fucked that habit out of her.

Now, I need to make her less freaked out about oral sex when she’s receiving it and figure out why she withdraws into herself every now and then.

“Daniel?” King’s voice brings me out of my mini dark fairy-tale musings.

“What?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“That’s because rumor has it, he’s screwing his assistant. And by rumor, I mean Knox and Sebastian.”

“Sebastian?” I echo. Knox is privy to my life like a power-hungry FBI agent, but Sebastian, Nate’s nephew and another junior partner, has the attention span of a bird about everyone who’s not his girlfriend.

He’s the personification of devil-may-care, complete with tiny red horns and a tail peeking from between his legs. Knox says that’s his dick, but that’s not the point. Nor is the fact that we discuss each other’s dicks during breakfast.

“You’re lucky there are no rules against in-house romance or your ass would be with the board as we speak,” King tells me with disdain.

“Jealous that monogamy’s train is leaving you behind?” Nate grins.

“More like I’m ecstatic there’s natural selection for idiots. The world needs less of them.”

“I’m not in a monogamous relationship,” I announce more to myself than anyone else, ignoring the fact that my dick refuses to touch another woman with a ten-foot pole.

“Tell that to the blinds that are rarely open in your office nowadays.” Nate stares down at me. “I’m going to need to check if you’re actually working.”

“Don’t give me that. Judging by the number of times Grace said you were unavailable while you were locked in your office, I’d say you fuck Gwen like you’re a teenager on his first sex marathon. I doubt any work is involved.”

“Thanks a lot for the unnecessary imagery about my fucking daughter, Sterling.” King pushes me away but directs his disgust at Nate. “While I was in a coma. Really, Nate?”

He digs his club into the ground. “You’re still alive.”

“You, however, won’t be once I change my mind and decide to kill you.”

I hold up a hand. “For any future criminal case references, I didn’t just hear that threat.”

“I did.”

The three of us turn to the source of the feminine voice. Aspen stands there in a short white skirt and a blue polo shirt with a hand on her hip, looking ten times younger out of her usual suit.

“I’ll bring you justice and make sure this crazy jerk is locked up for life.” She stares at King. “If you do us all a favor and commit a homicide in, say, Florida or Alabama, I’ll even sit on the front row as they electrocute you.”

“Maybe I’ll be the one in the front row when your witch blood pushes you to commit first-degree murder. Now, can you grace us with the reason behind your unwanted presence?”

“Jefferson invited me for golf.”

“You?”

“A senior partner last time everyone checked.”

“You’re late,” Nate says amicably.

“Probably couldn’t be bothered for the first hour?” I ask.

“You knew?” King stares at us as if we beheaded his favorite puppy à la guillotine style.

“The question is, why don’t you? Jefferson invited the partners. Aspen is high on that list.” Nate checks his watch, probably eager to go back home. The only reason he agreed to be here is because Gwen is studying for her exams.

“His sexist dick hates the idea so much that he forgets about it. Often.”

“You happen to be the forgettable type, sweetheart.”

She glares at him as if he jammed his feet against her ribs and crushed her nonexistent heart, but she soon smooths out her expression. “Not more than you, babe.”

It’s his turn to regard her like she’s a wild stallion he wants to tame. Flipping her hair, she faces me and Nate. “How do we go from here?”

King laughs. “You wouldn’t know how to play golf if you were spoon-fed, amateur.”

“You’re on.” She starts to follow my and Nate’s instructions.

By the time we’re done with golf, King and Aspen are seconds away from slitting each other’s throats or fucking on the grass. Not sure which one is more pressing.

Nate wears the expression of “what have I done to deserve this?” and I’m more than ready to go home.

Usually, I don’t. Go home, I mean. Except to sleep or pretend I have some semblance of a nice life.

But today, I can’t stop thinking about who I left back at the flat.

And I might have bought a shitload of unnecessary shit on my way home. Like a Minions jacket, a cat toy, and a premium fish.

When I get there, I’m greeted by so many fucking colors, they explode in my face.

Some pop song is playing and there’s dancing. By Nicole and Jayden, to be specific. They’re jumping with the energy of a stripper on a pole. Lolli is joining in on the fun, too, running from one end of the room to the other, seeming to search for her own dose of whatever these two are on.

Ignoring my knee-jerk reaction of pissing all over their fun, I lean against the doorway and cross my legs at the ankles. The scene in front of me plays out like a clichéd scene from a Disney film. Nicole twirls a giggling Jayden, her own laughter echoing in the air with the grace of a fucking angel.

No, Daniel. You’re not thinking about throwing a nine-year-old out the window so you can take his place.

“Dan!” The same person I’ve been having serial killer thoughts about calls for me, a grin showing his missing teeth.

Nicole’s attention finally slides to me and she pales, then flushes like a virgin. Correction, she didn’t flush when she was a virgin.

She was an angel with a devil’s appearance. Now, she just looks like a broken angel. A devil on his second try of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” the Guns N’ Roses version.

Her movements are flustered as she turns down the music from the speaker. “Sorry, I…thought you weren’t returning until later in the evening.”

That was the plan until I came to a perturbing realization that the outside world doesn’t have what I want.

My boring—ex-boring—flat does.

I don’t offer that explanation, though. Instead, I toss Jayden the Minions jacket that he oohs and aahs over and even hugs me.

The blasphemy.

I pat his back anyway, because spawn or not, children kind of need all that affection shit. He might be smart, but he’s as lonely as his sister.

They’ve been each other’s world for so long that it feels intrusive to even be in the middle of them.

But they let me in anyway, Minions, Lolli, and all.

“I’m going to take a picture of it with my other collection,” he announces, then runs to his room as if his arse is on fire.

His room.

The little rascal has a room in my flat. It’s actually a guest room that no guest has used before him.

Nicole has the second guest room that she doesn’t sleep in, because the fucking happens in my bedroom.

“You should stop getting him stuff,” she tells me when I’m in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water.

I lean against the counter and face her. “Is that your way of saying, ‘thank you for taking care of me and my brother. Let me suck your dick to show how grateful I am’?”

Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red, but to her credit, the haughty expression doesn’t disappear. I guess having aristocratic blood in your veins never changes, even if your mother turns out to be a psycho on steroids.

“You’re spoiling him.” She completely ignores my “suck my dick” suggestion. “He’ll find it hard to adjust when this whole thing is over.”

“This whole thing?” I try to pretend she didn’t metaphorically stab me with her favorite kitchen knife.

Yes, the plan—that’s currently searching for therapy—is to kick her out once the custody battle is over, but that doesn’t mean she gets to think that as well.

Nicole releases a frustrated breath. “Whatever vendetta you have against me.”

“There’s no fine print that says this will be over anytime soon. Might want to rest that busy brain from thinking about unnecessary things.”

“How long do you intend to keep this going?”

“Bored already?” I grab her by a handful of her hair, my fingers digging into her nape. “Didn’t sound like it when you were screaming the room down last night.”

Her delicate hands land on my chest as she peeks behind me. “Stop it. Jay’s awake.”

“So is my cock.”

I nudge my erection against the soft flesh of her stomach to prove a point. It’s been in this state ever since I walked in and saw her dancing and laughing like a fucking goddess.

Her thighs tremble against mine and then it happens, the slight shudder, the closing of her eyes, and the whole body stiffness.

When she opens them, she relaxes a little and stares at me like a nymph. Either she is one or I really need some therapy for being a sex addict.

I even did my own diagnosis and can spare the psychotherapist the trouble of naming it. I’m sexually addicted to Nicole.

Have been ever since I found out what fucking means, and the fact that I couldn’t have her, then shouldn’t have had her, turned me into a bitter fucking dick.

My emotions have always been mild, controlled, absolutely regular. Except for when it comes to this woman.

With her, they’re a tsunami of toxic shit and bring an immeasurable need to inflict pain.

I rub my cock against her stomach and she shudders.

“Oh my God, here?” she whisper-yells.

“Good a place as any.”

“You’re insane.”

“Heard worse. Now make that mouth useful and wrap it around my cock, Ms. Adler.”

“Don’t call me that.” She scrunches her nose.

“The inferiority pisses you off?”

“Feeling like a stranger does.” Her hand wraps around my cock through my trousers and I nearly come like a pubescent amateur.

“We are strangers, Nicole. Eleven years would testify to such. Oh, and the ten years before that weren’t exactly a splash of color.”

“Still doesn’t make us strangers.” She wanks me slowly, taking obvious pleasure in how my cock twitches in her hold. “See? Junior recognizes me.”

“Why the fuck do you remember that name?”

“I have a strong memory. Besides, he’s telling me something, Junior.”

“Didn’t know you were a dick whisperer.”

“Junior only whispers to me,” she says with a bright smile that makes me as hard as the Statue of Liberty.

“Let’s go with your crazy shit. What is he telling you?”

“That you dipped him in too many holes and he’s tired.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, he thinks he should take some downtime.”

“You must have hearing problems, because downtime doesn’t exist in his limited vocabulary. Shagging is his way of survival as a healthy twenty-nine-year-old male.”

She squeezes me until I grunt. “He doesn’t mean downtime from sex, just downtime from the other girls.”

My lips tilt in a smirk. “That’s too many words and a tacky tactic to tell me you want us to be exclusive.”

She reaches into my trousers and gives me a real hand job, up and down until all my blood rushes to my groin. “I want us to be exclusive.”

“And I want to be the Queen’s solicitor. We don’t always get what we want.”

Nicole pulls her hand out of my trousers just when I’m about to decorate it with my cum.

The lust slowly vanishes and her haughty expression returns. “Then I’ll go fuck other men.”

“You do that. Don’t forget to not use your teeth when giving head.” I want to kick the fucking arsehole in me who even uttered those words when the prominent feeling is to stab whoever comes near her.

Or whoever she goes to.

“You’ll really sleep with other women?” There’s hurt in her tone, a brokenness that fucking guts me.

“We’re not in a relationship, Nicole. This is called fucking. No strings attached. Google it.”

“I won’t let you touch me then. Go to your side pieces for your erection problems.”

“Why the fuck are you being dramatic?”

“So asking for basic human decency is called dramatic now? Fine, I’m a drama queen then. You might want to rub one out, because my mouth won’t be touching that dick.”

And then she storms to Jayden’s room, leaving me there, hard with both rage and the need to strangle the fuck out of her.

Now, I have to reacquaint my dick with my hand and hope their love-hate affair will hold up for some time.

For the rest of the day, Nicole ignores me. Flat out. Like she’s the queen and I’m a pageboy at her disposal.

It’s one of her loathsome traits that I’ve hated since we were young. She has this tendency of making those surrounding her feel like less than fucking dirt.

During dinner, Jayden, my only ally aside from a fickle Lolli, asks, “How did you guys meet?”

Nicole stares at her brother, then at me. “We went to the same school.”

“That wasn’t the official meeting. We didn’t even talk at school.” I sip the soup, half amazed that I can talk while eating, half tempted to throw it all up.

“When did you start to talk then?” Jayden asks.

“When I saved her from an allergic reaction. She would’ve died if it weren’t for me.”

“That’s not true,” Nicole says.

“Want to call the doctor? You were asphyxiating.”

Jayden’s eyes widen. “Because of peaches?”

“That’s right, mate. Your sister knew she was allergic to them but still stole them and hid to eat them.”

“I didn’t use to have that strong of an allergic reaction,” she grumbles around a bite of food. “I’ve never eaten peaches since that day.”

“You just suck on those lollipops instead and slap the color anywhere physically possible.”

“I do not.”

“Your phone case is peach-colored.”

“It was the only one available.”

“Your Post-it Notes are also peach-colored.”

“Coincidence.”

“Debatable.”

Jayden stares between us half oblivious, half curious about the tension that’s about to catch flames. “Did you become close after that?”

I snort, “Not after she ratted me out as the culprit who gave her the peaches.”

“I never said that,” she blurts. “Mum and Aunt Nora deduced it on their own.”

“Nice try.” I drink a whole glass of water, amazed I don’t choke on it. “Now you’ll tell me you didn’t snitch on me the dozen times that followed.”

“I did not.”

“Then why did you follow me around with the devil swinging on your shoulders?”

Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You always do that,” she spits out. “Assuming things and confirming them without even asking me about them.”

“You never offered an explanation.”

She lifts her chin. “I have nothing to explain to you.”

“Fantastic.”

“Brilliant.”

Jayden releases a long sigh, shaking his head like an old man. “Should I go to my room now? Are you going to start kissing?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Nicole hisses.

“Never,” I say at the same time.

“Thank God.” Jayden lifts a shoulder. “It’s gross anyway.”

No, it’s not.

But I don’t say that and, instead, choose to stuff my face with repulsive food that suddenly doesn’t feel so repulsive anymore.

Nicole glares at me and I glare right back.

Play all you want, Peaches. I’ve already won this game.