Empire of Lust: Chapter 13

“I missed you so much, Dad!”

Gwen squeezes me in a hug that could be mistaken for a murder attempt.

I smile anyway and wrap my arms around her. This little girl—not so little anymore—is the reason I was saved from my own mind a long time ago.

If it weren’t for her existence, I would’ve been fucked up to my bones with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Well, I’m not next in line to be Mother Teresa’s replacement, but still. Small changes.

My angel added something important to my life, something that due to its absence, I spiraled down a violent, bloody path.

Purpose.

So the fact that she’s no longer under my protection—not fully, at least—has been slowly but surely chipping away at that purpose.

“You clearly missed me, judging by how you added three whole days to your trip.” I glare at Nate who’s sitting in my living room, legs wide apart, position relaxed, and making himself entirely at home.

Fucker looks too pleased with himself. He’s even wearing casual pants, a button-down, and a creepy smile.

A whole look that didn’t exist in his wardrobe before.

“We just wanted to stay a little longer.” Gwen pulls back, looking as radiant as the summer sun. Apparently, getting married didn’t change her style, considering the jean shorts, loose tank top, and casual sneakers she’s sporting like a second skin.

She tries—and fails—to force her wild ginger hair into submission. “Besides, you know that Nate would go straight back to work as soon as we returned.”

“Which he should’ve done three days ago instead of having me carry all the weight. And stop smiling, motherfucker. It’s disgusting.”

“Dad!” Gwen gasps, then flops beside her husband. “Don’t listen to him, Nate. I like it when you smile.”

I take my own seat, narrowing my eyes. “Already taking sides, Gwen?”

“You’re unreasonable, Dad.”

“Not to mention a jerk,” Nate says with his usual blank expression. At least the creepiness is gone.

“Nate,” she whisper-yells. “Don’t call Dad a jerk.”

At least the little shit still has some loyalty toward me.

“Unfortunately, your denial won’t negate the fact that he is one.” He raises his brows at me in pure challenge. “The worst kind. If only you knew what type of things he does behind your back.”

“I’ll kill you,” I mouth so Gwen doesn’t hear and he just smiles again, summoning the version from creepy hell.

My daughter frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing you should worry about…yet.” He kisses the top of her head and she just lets it go.

Gwen talks about all the fun she had and tells me about the gifts she bought for me, all seven of them, because wherever she went, she thought of me and wanted to get me something.

Then she says she misses Martha and goes to catch up with her.

As soon as Nate and I are alone, I contemplate whether or not he’ll die from a single shot from my grandfather’s shotgun that’s displayed right behind his head.

He flings a hand on the back of the sofa. “You do realize that you’re fully transparent when that head of yours is bubbling with violence, don’t you?”

“Better run then, motherfucker.”

“That word and I are not friends. Speaking of friends, I heard unsettling rumors about you rekindling your withering relationship with Nicolo Luciano.”

“Not rumors. News.”

He stands up, all nonchalance gone as he reaches me in a few strides and speaks in a low tone. “Did you lose your fucking mind in that damn coma? Why the hell would you willingly go back to the mafia’s dirty circle after putting so much effort into cutting ties with them?”

“Nothing personal. Just business.”

“Fuck that. You loathed your father’s involvement with them and made sure to end it as soon as he was six feet under. So either spill the actual reason or Gwyneth will have to be the one to get the answers out of you.”

I jerk up and grab him by the collar of his shirt in one swift movement. “Don’t bring her into this.”

He clutches me by my jacket. “You’re the one who did that. She’s your daughter, King. If anything goes sideways, which, spoiler alert, always does with the mob, she’ll have a target on her fucking back.”

She’ll have a target on her back either way because of her damn mother. But I don’t say that, because it will show that I care, and that’s blasphemy in my dictionary.

“She won’t.” I push him away. “And tell your bird who dares to fucking spy on me that I’ll blacklist them from this planet the moment I find them.”

He scratches his chin. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You said ‘your bird.’”

“So fucking what?” I might have the patience of a toddler lately.

Specifically, since four days ago, after I dropped Aspen off at her apartment and she ghosted me.

“You didn’t say ‘the witch.’ As in, you didn’t assume it’s her, even knowing full well she’s my right-hand. What gives?”

It can’t be her, because she’d be serving herself on a platter to Nate, and while they’re close, she’s not close enough to anyone to let them see her weak.

Or disclose her past to them.

Or put herself in an unfavorable position in front of her daughter’s husband.

But what she doesn’t know is that the more she escapes into her cave, the harder I’ll chase her.

So what if she doesn’t answer my calls or my texts? I’ll eventually catch her.

The only reason I haven’t banged her door off its hinges and barged into her apartment is to give her that misconception of being safe.

Or that I’ve given up.

The surest way to get a guarded, careful person to open up is to delude them into believing they’re off the hook.

But if she thinks I would retreat now that I’ve had a taste of her, she has no idea what she’s in for. Because one time isn’t enough. I need to see her writhing again, moaning in that throaty voice, and shattering in front of me like an erotic art piece.

That scene from four days ago was so rare in its beauty and surprisingly breakable. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her so vulnerable with hints of a submissive that I’ll bring out if it’s the last thing I do.

Aspen Leblanc is the war I’m going to conquer and bring to her knees.

Literally. Figuratively.

I focus back on Nate, who’s been watching me expectantly. “Aspen is on vacation.”

He rakes his gaze all over the room, then gives me the same attention before he circles me like a poor imitation of a caged lion.

“Did you get high on your way here, Nate? Either that or I need to check you into a mental institute.”

“I’m just making sure I didn’t somehow land in a parallel universe since Aspen is apparently on her first vacation in a decade and you actually know her given name. I thought she only held the title of a witch in your repertoire of limited names.”

After doing two whole tours around me, he stops in front of me and narrows his eyes. “What the fuck is going on?”

I might’ve underestimated Nate’s deduction abilities and his dog-like nose, because he’s watching me with zero chances of him dropping this.

So instead of offering the truth that I don’t even like to admit to myself, I go with a tamer version of it. “She was assaulted.”

He pauses, his face hardening. “When? Where? How? Who?”

All the same questions I asked. And yet, I want to bash his head in for an illogical reason. Like why the fuck does he have that level of concern about her?

“Five days ago. In an alley. Physically. As for who, it’s still under investigation. She filed a report, but the incompetent police are coming up with nothing.”

And won’t. Because I already took care of it.

“Does the physical assault extend to a sexual one—”

“No.” I cut him off harshly, realizing I don’t want to discuss that particular topic with him, of all fucking people.

“Good.” He releases a breath. “Well, not good, but still. How bad is she?”

“Bad enough to be put on mandatory vacation. She was beaten to within an inch of her life but still wants to work as if nothing happened.”

“Aspen is a workaholic to a fault.”

The sound of a crash reaches us. Both Nate and I stare at the source to find Gwen blinking rapidly, a massacre of a dish and cupcakes lying by her feet.

Her chin trembles like when she was a little girl and reined in her tears. “Aspen…is hurt?”

Nate strides to her side, wraps an arm around her shoulder, and tactfully pulls her from the mess. Because knowing her poor relationship with the outside world, she’ll probably step on the glass or gather the pieces and cut herself.

“Not badly,” Nate assures her. “She’ll be fine.”

“But Dad said it’s bad enough that she had to go on a mandatory vacation.” She releases herself from his hold and storms toward me. The anger and disappointment on her face cuts through my steel chest. “Did you do it?”

“What?”

“You always hated her and promised to make her disappear. Did you hit her or pay someone to hit her to scare her away?”

My jaw tightens so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap. “Watch your mouth, Gwen. I’m your father, not your friend, and you have zero right to accuse me.”

“Why not? You threatened to kill her once. I heard you! You’re my dad and I love you, but you’re a merciless man to anyone who goes against you. I learned that the hard way when you nearly killed Nate, your damn best friend, because he disobeyed you, so excuse me if I think you’re capable of doing more than that to Aspen.”

I can feel the volcano rising from deep within me and I clench my fists.

Gwen doesn’t notice, because she’s too caught up in her emotions to realize it.

Nate, however, senses the change in the atmosphere and wraps an arm around her waist protectively.

He knows I’d never hurt her, but he also knows she’s pushing me to my very last nonexistent limit.

“Gwyneth, it might not be what you think,” he says gently.

“Why not?” she speaks to him but continues staring at me with that same sense of betrayal. “I’ve wanted a mother since I knew what a mother meant, Dad. Her absence made me feel empty, like less than a whole person and not worthy of love. I finally found her after twenty damn years, and you had to be selfish about it. You can be so selfish, Dad. You made me celebrate all my birthdays, even though I hated them for reminding me that I was abandoned that day. But you don’t care about that, do you? You don’t care that all I think about is getting close to the mother I finally found and being constantly scared that she won’t like me. She’s so smart and successful and I don’t think I can measure up to her and it scares me, but those facts mean nothing to you. You hate her and want me to hate her, too, but I’m telling you now that it’s not possible. So stop making everything about you, Dad. It’s about me this time!”

Silence stakes claim to the room. Aside from the sound of me grinding my back teeth together to keep from fucking snapping.

“Nate, get her the hell out of here.” I’m surprised I sound calm, even though it’s the “I’ll break all hell loose in a sec” type of calm.

He clenches his jaw but starts to pull her away, because even he wouldn’t want her to see me in my non-human state.

“No, I want to stay!” She tries to wiggle free. “Tell me it’s not you who hurt her, Dad.”

“Get the fuck out, Gwyneth,” I roar, and she flinches before the most loathsome things I’ve ever seen on my daughter stream down her cheeks.

Tears.

She sniffles, her face becoming red, then she turns around and runs.

Nate gives me a dirty look, mutters a “fuck you,” then follows her.

Me? I want to punch a wall.

So I do just that and drive my fist through the nearest wall.

My knuckles explode in pain, but it’s not enough to dilute the image of Gwen crying or the sound of her accusing me.

I don’t care if the whole world paints me as the worst villain; she should never belong to the herd.

She’s my miracle.

But then again, maybe I don’t deserve one.

I retrieve my Zippo and flip it open, then closed in a manic rhythm, contemplating my next course of action.

Obviously, it starts and ends with the woman who gave me that miracle.