Empire of Sin(Empire #2)(51)

“How about your parents?” Usually, I wouldn’t ask. I don’t really get curious about people in general, because I’d rather not get involved, but I am curious about him.

About the reason behind the darkening in his golden eyes.

He takes a bite of the pizza, chews slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. “Never knew my father, and my mother was a whore, who was as clueless as us about the identity of the man who impregnated her. When she got mad at us when we were six, she said we were the product of a gang bang from which she received her stash of drugs for the month, and the only reason she kept us was because many of her clients had pregnancy and lactation kinks.”

I gulp the mouthful of food, but that has less to do with the information and more to do with his tone when he talked about his mother.

In all my life among monsters, I’ve never heard someone speak with so much venom and pure hatred about their parent. It’s as if he wishes she were on the edge of a cliff so that he could push her off and watch as she meets her demise.

Knox leans back on his palm again and tilts his head to the side. “Now that the boring information is out of the way, why don’t you tell me about your parents?”

“What about them?”

“You mentioned your mum was abused and since you spoke about her in the past tense, I assume she’s no longer alive?”

The food gets stuck in my throat and it takes me a few swallows before I can push past the clog that’s built up there. “She’s not.”

“How about your father?”

“He’s around…”

“And?”

“What?”

“Are you close?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Do you not want to be around him?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

I tighten my hold on the slice of pizza until it’s almost crushed. “Because.”

“I see. Is he the reason behind the identity change?”

My head jerks and I realize my mistake when he smiles in that predatory way.

“So he is.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Then what do you want to talk about? How about how suspicious you are or…” he trails off when the opening of “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica echoes from my phone. “You get a small pass for having good taste in music.”

My eyes bug out. “You like Metallica, too?”

“Like? Their music has been running in my veins since I knew what music is all about. Attending their concerts is always the highlight of my year.”

“Do you by any chance have a collection of their merch?” I always wished to own music-themed merchandise, but that was forbidden in my house.

“I collected a lot of T-shirts, jackets, hoodies, and other Metallica-themed merch in my teenage years. I even had a pair of headphones with the name of the band engraved on it. I kind of dropped endless hints about wanting it so Dad could get it for my birthday. They’re back in England and my sister always threatens to destroy them when I don’t do things her way.”

I can’t help the smile that curves my lips at how carefree he speaks about Metallica and his sister. It’s the first time I’ve witnessed this easygoing part of him.

He’s always been intense in some way or another, but now, it’s dulled down.

“Your sister seems fun.”

“No, she’s usually a pain in the arse. Headstrong and has a no-nonsense personality.”

“I get along with that type. My cousin is that way and we’re close…” I trail off as a tendril of sadness splashes inside me. “Were close.”

“I assume you left her behind, too?”

“I didn’t leave her behind. We’re just…on different sides of the battle.”

“Battle. Interesting terminology.”

I clear my throat, needing to derail his attention. He’s like a cat with a mouse, once he sees a chance to strike, he won’t hesitate to use it. “Do you listen to anything aside from Metallica?”

“I used to listen to Slipknot, Megadeth, and Iron Maiden when I was a teenager. Dad used to be fussy because I went to sleep and woke up with loud metal music in my ears.”

“You don’t do that anymore?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“In law school, I didn’t really listen to much music and it just extended to after I passed the bar and started working.”

“I don’t understand how someone can move on from music. It’s what helps me concentrate better.”

“I know that.”

“You do?”

“You usually have earbuds in when you’re working. I also know you listen to vintage music.”

“Are you a stalker?”

“I prefer professional watcher, just like you.”

“M-me?”

“Yeah, beautiful. I know you come to watch me sometimes.”

My cheeks are burning hot. “I do not.”

“We have glass walls, in case you haven’t noticed, and that means I can see you through them.”

I stare down at my lap. “I…wasn’t there for you.”