Empire of Desire(Empire #1)(22)

The gray gains dominance in her chameleon eyes, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Not even when her clinking stops and she steps closer. “What if you do touch me?”

“It won’t happen.”

“But it happened before. Two years ago, remember? Though I was the one who touched you, but it still counts, right?”

“Gwyneth,” I grind out through my teeth.

She flinches, but she forges on, “What I’m trying to say is that it could happen again. You can’t stop it.”

“I can.”

She purses her lips, a frown creasing her forehead.

“No touching, Gwyneth, I mean it.”

She lifts a shoulder. “Fine.”

“Really?” For some reason, I don’t believe that she’d give up so easily. She has the frustrating type of determination that’s impossible to break.

“Yeah. It’s not like you won’t change your mind.”

“Gwyneth,” I warn.

She jumps again, startled. And I realize I do that a lot to her. Scare her by being strict and firm and generally harsh. But she’s the foolish one who doesn’t stay away.

She takes a step back. “I…uh…I’m going to ask the doctor if I can go inside.”

She turns around and runs as fast as she can from me. Her shorts ride up her pale thighs and her top stretches against her back. I try to look away, but I can’t.

I tell myself it’s to see what she’ll do as I openly watch the swish of her hair down her back and her legs that don’t seem so short now that she’s not standing in front of me.

She’s not a small person. Just small compared to me.

My fist clenches at that image and it takes everything in me to remain calm and focused on what’s to come.

Before rounding the corner, she comes to a screeching halt and spins to face me, motioning at my jacket that she’s been hugging to her chest all this time. “I’m going to keep this.”

And then she disappears down the hall.

I release a sigh, slowly closing my eyes.

Necessity.

I want to blame it, to shove this entire situation down its throat, but who the fuck am I kidding?

Necessity might have started this, but I’m the one who will pursue it until the end.





8





Nathaniel





“Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

I sigh for the thousandth time today and face my nephew—the source of the unnecessary question.

“He does,” Aspen tells him with her usual assertiveness.

The three of us are standing near City Hall, ignoring the people buzzing around us, and focusing on the time. Or I’m probably the only one who’s having an unhealthy obsession with my watch.

Gwyneth is twenty minutes late.

Surely there’s a reason behind her tardiness. She’s never been the type who’s late to appointments. Or irresponsible.

Though it’s true that getting married only five days after her father’s accident isn’t a normal situation, it’s not like we have time. The sooner she gives me power of attorney, the easier I can stop Susan’s moves. Because she’s plotting them as we speak. I made calls, talked to judges, and I know about the subpoenas her lawyer is trying to file. I can only ward her off for so long before I run out of options.

Time isn’t on our side, which is the reason behind the hasty marriage.

I stare at my watch again, then at the unanswered phone calls I made. Maybe she needs more time for what girls do when they get married. Though I told her it would be a simple ceremony so we could get to the next step. Nothing fancy. Nothing for her to get ready for.

But this is Gwyneth. The dreamy-looking, chameleon-eyed Gwyneth. She probably had plans for her wedding day. Most girls do. And they certainly don’t want to imagine it as an ordinary event during a workday, where each of us will go back to our respective worlds right after.

Because that’s what will happen. No one will know about this marriage unless it’s absolutely necessary. Like the two witnesses I brought with me. Though I only need one, it’s safer to have both so that if one of them can’t testify, the other can.

After all, this marriage is purely a formality. Something to use in court. Nothing more, nothing less. She can save her girlhood dreams about marriage for her next one.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian, my nephew, says.

My jaw tics and I don’t know if it’s because of his words or my earlier thoughts.

“What part of I need power of attorney do you not understand, Rascal?”

He stares at me funny, like when he used to want to hit someone but knew he had to reel it in. But he wouldn’t normally direct that gaze at me, so maybe he does want to hit me.

Sebastian is ten years younger than me and the only person I consider family. My parents don’t count. They’re already dead in my mind.

The day he decided to follow my path instead of taking after my father’s corruption-smudged politics, I felt a sense of accomplishment I never have before. As if my existence had meaning all along.

“She could’ve given you power of attorney without the marriage part.”

“It’s the community property part that matters more. She already signed the contract that says our assets will be jointly owned after marriage, which will give me a strong standing in court.”