Chapter 33: Empire of Desire: Chapter 32

The splash of water is loud, but it isn’t louder than Gwyneth’s shriek.

It’s the first time I’ve heard that sound from her. The terror in it tears through my chest and clashes against my bones.

Fuck.

I don’t want her scared, terrified, or any of the negative emotions she’s written on her list.

But now this has happened, and in hindsight, I shouldn’t have touched her when King was around. Even if he was napping, because he’s a fucking hyena and if he’s suspecting something, he won’t sleep. He’ll be roaming and digging around like a fucking lunatic until he gets what he wants.

But I couldn’t stop it. And it’s not for lack of trying.

I gave her the space she demanded, even though I hated it, because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t going to drag her into my mess or give her hope that doesn’t exist.

However, every day I spent without her was absolute fucking hell. Concentration? Zero. Sleep? Nonexistent.

And it’s not about her body or how perfect she feels in my arms. It’s the little fucking things, like how she sleeps with her face tucked in my neck or how we cooked together while she danced to her music.

It’s her light.

It’s her energy and cheerfulness. It’s the fucking meaning she gave to my life when I thought I didn’t need such a thing.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about that. About her presence, about that meaning I didn’t ask for but was there anyway, which opened wounds I thought were long healed.

So I had to kiss her.

I had to claim her for all the times I’ve wanted to kiss her since she stole that kiss on her eighteenth birthday.

That was the exact moment she stopped being my friend’s daughter and became her.

Gwyneth.

Just Gwyneth.

And now, said friend will kill me for it. Because he jumped after me in the water and the moment I resurface, he grabs me by the lapel of my jacket and punches me in the face.

My head snaps to the side from the force of it. Fuck. His punch is still as strong as when we were teens, if not harder. And here I thought he was recovering and didn’t have enough strength.

“Dad, stop!” Her shrieks from the side of the pool bring out the temper lurking inside me.

Yes, I was prepared for King’s reaction and wrath, but not in front of her. I don’t want her to see his ugly side—or mine.

Because this is heading straight in that direction.

“I’m going to fucking kill you! Your life will end today, you motherfucking asshole.” He enunciates every word with a punch to my face, my neck, my chest, everywhere.

I don’t stop him or punch back, not even when blood explodes in my lip or when my ribs sting with every breath I take.

“Dad, please!” She’s flat out crying now while perching on the edge of the pool.

“King, stop it,” I grind out. “Gwyneth is—”

He shuts me up with a punch to the mouth and it almost sends my teeth flying. Motherfucker.

“You don’t say her fucking name. That’s my daughter. My fucking daughter, Nate!! What type of fucking death wish did you have when you touched my fucking daughter?” Thwack! “Are all the other women not enough for you so you went after her?” Thwack! “Have you fantasized about her since she was a toddler? Were you touching her behind my fucking back?”

I raise my fist in a huge splatter of water and drive it straight into his face. I didn’t mean to punch him, but I do it because he’s saying shit he shouldn’t be saying. “I would never do that and you know it, but you’re being a fucking dick right now. She was never a woman to me until recently.”

“She’s not a woman. She’s my baby daughter, you motherfucker!” He grabs me by the hair and pushes my face into the water, then locks my legs with his to stop me from moving around.

He’s going to drown me.

The motherfucker is really intent on drowning me.

I grab his arms and push, trying to remove his hold on my head, but he has brute fucking strength that keeps me pinned in place. How can it be that this crazy asshole was in a coma and is still recovering?

The fucking idiot. If he kills me, he’ll go to jail and no one will be there for Gwyneth.

That’s when I hear her hysterical cries for her father to stop, but he’s too far gone to listen to her.

Or anyone—aside from the demons in his head.

My lungs burn and I swallow the chlorinated water in my attempts to get some air. My grip loosens from around his arms and black dots fill my vision.

Ah, fuck.

I thought he’d try to kill me. But not that he’d actually succeed.

Still, all I can think about is Gwyneth’s tear-streaked face and how she’ll probably lose both of us now.

Me to death.

King to jail.

Then she’ll be all alone again.

The pressure of King’s hand disappears from my head and I think I’m crossing over to the other side, but then soft palms grab me by the cheeks and lift me up from the water.

I gulp in a sharp intake of air and splutter water as I cough up everything that I swallowed. The scratch and burn in my throat don’t disappear, but none of that matters.

Not when Gwyneth is holding my face, wet strands of her wild hair sticking to her temples and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Nate? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

I can’t talk, and it’s not only because of the grogginess in my throat. How the fuck did she get in here? She doesn’t know how to swim.

I stare behind her and find that King has her by the waist to keep her afloat even when his face is tight and murderous, and he definitely still has plans to kill me.

Fuck me. This brave woman jumped in the water, despite not knowing how to swim, because she knew her safety is what King cares about above anything else. She risked drowning to save me, my Gwyneth.

“He’ll be dead in a second.” King tries to push her to the edge of the pool, but she wraps her legs around my waist, her sneakers digging into my back. Her arms circle my neck, and that forces King to bring us both to the edge.

Then he climbs up and reaches his hand out to her. “Come here.”

“Not until you promise you won’t hurt him.”

“You don’t want to talk about him, Gwen. Let him the fuck go.”

She stares into my eyes and I nod before I speak in a scratchy voice, “I’m fine. Get out of the water.”

That’s not what she does, though. Instead, she uses the back of her arm to wipe at my face, probably the blood, and sniffles. I wince when she touches the bruises her father left behind and that causes tears to slide down her cheeks.

Ever since she was young, Gwyneth was always the type who felt other people’s pain and discomfort before her own. When King noticed the signs, he stopped her from becoming a people pleaser early on, but he could’ve never tamed the wild emotions that run through her.

It’s what makes her a unique person who’s not a copycat of her father. She’s special that way even though she’s prone to get hurt easily, like right now.

Being the reason behind her pain is the last thing I want to do, which is why I try to tamp down my reactions as much as possible.

King, however, glares down at us, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “Gwen. Come out. Now.”

She flinches and starts trembling uncontrollably. He’s my friend and her father, but I’m about to punch him hard enough to send him into another coma.

He’s scaring her right now. I know it. I see it in her eyes, where the gray has staked a claim.

Since she’s his daughter, she doesn’t know him to be cruel or a bully. She doesn’t know how brutal he can get, but she’s seeing it now, and I can tell she doesn’t want to go.

She doesn’t want to face that tyrannical part of him.

But I nod again, because if she doesn’t, he’ll turn the crazy up a notch.

She hesitantly places her hand in his and he pulls her out of the water in one sweep.

I take a breath and start to climb out. When I’m halfway there, he jams his foot against my chest and shoves me back into the pool again.

Motherfucker.

“Dad!” I hear Gwyneth’s shriek when I resurface, coughing from the water again. At this rate, I’m not getting out of here. But hey, it’s better than being drowned.

I swim to the edge and he’s waiting up top with a dark expression on his face, probably ready to push me again.

But I climb out anyway.

Before he can act on his plans, though, Gwyneth steps in front of him, holding her hands wide apart. “Stop it, Dad. Please, stop.”

“You stay out of it. I’m going to deal with you later.” He starts to push her away, but she keeps her feet planted long after I’m out of the pool, dripping all over the ground.

“I can’t stay out of it, because this is about me, too. I chose to be with him. I chose to marry him. No one forced me to.”

“You fucking what?” He nudges her away and starts to lunge toward me. “You married her? You fucking married my daughter, you sick fuck?”

I’m ready for him to throw me into the pool and actually drown me this time, but he stops mid-step when frail arms wrap around him from behind. “Daddy, please…please stop. I’m scared. Stop.”

He’s breathing so heavily that a few blood cells have exploded in his eyes. His fists are clenched at his sides, but he doesn’t make a move toward me.

The reason is attached to him. He’s feeling her tremble against him and he’s hearing the fear in her voice, the same fear he spent his entire life protecting her from. And now, he’s the reason behind it.

He breathes harshly through his nostrils. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No. We’re going to talk.”

“Nate…leave before I murder you.”

“No.”

He must sense the determination in my tone and see it on my face, since he throws one last glare my way and pulls Gwyneth inside.

I wait for a few minutes beside the pool, wiping the water out of my face and grimacing when I touch a cut. The crazy motherfucker went for my looks, even though we have a rule against that. Not that I blame him, but still.

After some time has passed, I go through the back entrance of the kitchen and grab a towel and some dry clothes from the laundry room. It’s King’s clothes. Gwyneth has been on a high ever since he woke up and washed some of his clothes, so they’re fresh.

He’ll kill me for this, too, but he shouldn’t have ruined my Italian suit.

I quickly dry myself, then pull on a pair of King’s khaki shorts. I put my arms through the shirt sleeves and wince when my ribs ache. I stare at my chest and find a violet spot forming. Fucking King and his fists.

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still the delinquent from school who dealt with everything by using violence.

I’m about to button up the shirt when I hear a slow tapping of shuffling feet. Sneakers.

Sure enough, Gwyneth slips in as if she knew I was here all along. She’s changed into one of her long shirts and her hair is still wild and wet, barely dried with a towel. A shadow covers her tiny features and it’s accentuated by the warring of the gray and blue in her eyes.

She runs toward me and stops a breath away. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

Her fingers touch the cut on my brow and I wince. Tears glisten in her eyes and she starts to remove her hand, but I grab it, flattening her palm against my cheek. “I’m fine. I expected this.”

“I hate this. I hate Dad like this. He almost drowned you out there… You almost died, Nate.”

“I would’ve done the same if I were in his place, except the killing part, because that will land him in prison.”

“Nate!” She pushes at my chest, straight on the bruise, and I groan.

“What’s wrong?” She starts to inspect my chest and gasps at the view. “Oh, God.”

“It’s nothing.” I button my shirt and she helps me, her fingers trembling when they reach the top. “Hey, this is nothing. We had worse fights than this when we were young.”

“Maybe you should leave, Nate. For now, just go and I’ll talk to him—”

“No, you won’t. I will.”

“But—”

“I’ve known him longer than you have and I can deal with him.”

“What if he hurts you again?”

“He won’t. I can protect myself.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now, where is he?”

“In his office, I think.” She digs her nails into my shirt, not wanting to let me go.

So I lower my head and claim her mouth. I suck on her bottom lip until she opens with a moan. My hand fists in her wet hair and I feast on her taste, a mixture of vanilla and whatever she’s feeling at the moment. Right now, it’s despair. And I take that for myself so she doesn’t have those negative emotions anymore.

I never liked kissing. Never engaged in it either, but I want to keep kissing her until I’m out of air and she’s the only oxygen I breathe.

I want to keep feeling her body clinging to mine, her softness molding against my hardness and her moans filling the air.

Those moans and sounds are for me.

Only me.

I almost died because I kissed her not so long ago, but I will still repeat it. I will still risk death for her.

But I don’t want her to risk anything in case King sees us again.

So I begrudgingly pull back, relinquishing her sweet lips.

She’s panting, her eyes darkening with a bright green color, but she doesn’t look to be on the verge of a breakdown like earlier.

“Be careful,” she whispers and lets me go when I coax her to step aside.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and stride out of the kitchen without a look back. Because if I do, I’ll be tempted not to leave her side.

If I do, I will take her away from here and give King the middle finger.

But that’s just not the smart thing to do in a situation like this.

I take the stairs slowly because my ribs ache with each step I take. The crazy fucker probably bruised some of them.

I barge into said asshole’s office without knocking. Because fuck him and his crazy ass.

When we were teens and I decided to fight him, everyone told me not to challenge the “King.” That it was stupid and reckless and I’d get my ass whipped.

But I did. The best way to become a king is to slaughter one.

And I was out to do just that.

Yes, he used me as a punching bag the first few times, but I didn’t give up until the king himself fell at my feet.

Until I became his worst friend and best enemy.

And right now, it feels like we’re back to those times where he’s the king and I’m out for his throne.

He’s sitting in the chair at his window that overlooks the front pool. This is probably where he was when I was kissing Gwyneth earlier and decided to use his fists.

But now, he doesn’t look like he wants to touch me, because he has a gun in his hand.

“That’s smarter,” I say, locking the door behind me so Gwyneth doesn’t have the chance to come in. “Better than your clear jealousy of my looks that you tried to ruin.”

“Explain yourself before I fucking kill you.”

I might have lied to Gwyneth just now. I don’t think I’ll be fine.