Empire of Desire(Empire #1)(25)

My head whips up fast. So fast that I’m a bit disoriented and a sudden sound slips from my lips. It’s small, but it’s there, like a squeal.

It’s him.

My dad’s best friend and my future husband.

The man I had a hopeless crush on for years before I destroyed it all on my birthday and then got over him because my pride is a thing.

I’m definitely over him.

And yet, I can’t help noticing the way his muscular chest stretches the jacket of his suit or how his eyes darken with each second he watches me. I can’t stop myself from looking at that damn stubborn jaw of his and the way it’s currently tightening until a muscle tics. Or the way his long legs eat up the distance between us in no time, injecting some sort of a thrilling potion into my bloodstream with each powerful stride.

When he stops beside me, I have to crane my neck to stare up at him because he’s so big. Big and strong and a god.

And I don’t want to miss a second of witnessing it firsthand. That’s why religion exists, right? Because a god is so dazzling, he automatically gains followers and prayers and sacrifices.

Lots of sacrifices.

“Get up.”

I want to close my eyes and memorize that voice, the deep tenor of it, the slight humming in it. All of it. But something stops me—the continuous ticking in his jaw. He’s mad about something.

Or maybe it’s some things. Plural. Because he’s glaring at me with those darkened eyes that almost look black right now.

“I said, get up from the floor, Gwyneth.” This time, he doesn’t wait for me to comply and grabs me by the elbow, hauling me to my feet.

I let out a small sound again, a gasp mixed with that stupid juvenile squeal. But that’s not important right now. His skin on mine is. His hot skin and his large, veiny hand that’s fit for a god.

The place where he’s touching me burns and then tingles in rapid succession, and no amount of deep breathing drives it away. Maybe touching should be on the negative list, too, because I totally need to desensitize myself to it.

Or maybe just limit it to touching Nate.

He tilts his head to the side, watching me in that harsh, critical way that befits a criminal. Am I one now because I chose the wrong god?

“Did you hear what I said?”

“About what?” I totally wasn’t listening, because he’s still touching me. He still has his warm hand on my elbow. Nate doesn’t do that, you know. He doesn’t touch me. Ever. I’m the one who tries it and fails miserably every time.

But he’s doing it right now.

And it’s hard to focus when I’m floating in the clouds.

“About how you’re not a burden.”

My heart jolts and I can’t control the tremor that shoots through my limbs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that gives away my emotions and I hate it. Especially in front of him. The man who’s the reason behind it every damn time.

“I am.” I lower my head, staring at my white sneakers, and that automatically makes me look at his prim leather shoes. And the difference between his and mine is so striking that it helps to anchor me in the moment, even if temporarily. “I know you’re marrying me because you want to protect Dad’s assets and that’s okay, but it still makes me a burden. Because I’m not old enough to take care of things myself and I didn’t even graduate or pass the bar yet, so I can’t practice law or stand against Susan in court and—”

“Look at me.”

I shake my head, swallowing after all the rambling I’ve done. What if he sees the shame on my face—or worse, the things I’m trying to hide? That would be a disaster no one needs.

“Gwyneth.”

I flinch, my heart hammering in my chest, but it’s not because I’m scared. Not even close. It’s due to how he just spoke.

How can someone pack so much command in one single word? In the simple way he says my name? And is it creepy that I want him to keep talking to me in that tone?

For that reason alone, I contemplate disobeying him just to hear it again. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the warning, the severity of it.

So I slowly meet his gaze, and I wish I hadn’t, because he releases my elbow and I feel like I’m drowning in nonexistent water.

“Do you honestly believe that I chose to do this just to be there for you or because I’m a knight in shining armor? I’m not, Gwyneth. Far from it.”

“Then what are you?”

“Whatever knights in shining armor fight. And that means there’s not one noble, sacrificing bone in my body. The reason I’m marrying you isn’t because I want to protect you or King’s legacy. I’m protecting my firm. My own legacy. So the fact that you feel like a burden is needless and unnecessary. We’re using each other. Do you understand?”

My chest deflates and a strong whoosh of air escapes me. It’s not relief, though. It’s due to being so focused on the way he spoke that I kind of forgot to breathe.

Happens all the time.

But before now, I barely saw him—like once a month or something—and he hardly spoke to me. Now that I’ve seen him every day since Dad’s accident, spoken to him, been close to him, I think I’m having some sort of an overdose. A deadly one at that.

I’ll get used to it, right? If I see him constantly, I’ll totally be desensitized to his presence.