Empire of Sin (Empire #2)(11)

It’s the first thing I saw when I stepped into the bar. The jeweled black butterfly wings against her pale skin grabbed my attention and refused to let go.

Then it was her almost white hair that resembles ice, her soft petite face, and those huge ocean blue eyes that seemed ready to swallow the world while hiding away from it.

She was beautiful, but not in the provocative, seductive way I’m used to. If anything, she seemed na?ve at times, not knowing what she was supposed to do and waiting for instructions.

At first, I thought the innocent act was just that—an act. But the more I touched her, the more convinced I was that she had little experience. It was in the little details—how she took time to suck my dick or how she often peeked at me as if waiting for approval of what she was doing.

If I’m wrong and she was in fact an escort, I’ll revoke my law license. Or I’ll steal an Oscar for her.

Still, no amount of acting could’ve allowed her to shudder involuntarily or swallow me deep and raw and even like it.

Having had violent tastes all my life makes rough sex a given, but some women don’t like it, and I have to slow down so I don’t take things too far. I have to keep in mind that not all people are fucked up like me, so I’m forced to handle them a bit more gently.

I didn’t have to do that with her, though.

She took everything I dished out and more.

She even orgasmed because of it and screamed in that erotic way that still echoes in my ears like a siren’s song.

Then she left.

My hold flexes on the butterfly before I place it on the side table. That’s when I notice that my jacket is gone, but my wallet is on the chair with everything inside it.

If she were a thief, it would make more sense to take my cash, but she chose a jacket—worth a few thousand dollars, but still.

She didn’t strike me as someone poor. She had the soft, delicate speech and mannerisms of someone well-educated, but maybe all of that was an act as well.

Shaking my head, I go to the bathroom to take a shower.

My gaze falls on the condom in the rubbish bin and I pause. I didn’t focus on it last night, probably due to the dim lights and my being sleepy.

But it’s there.

Blood.

On the condom and the washcloth I cleaned her with.

When I felt a bit of resistance inside her at first, I thought it was because she was the type who needed to be entered gradually or repeatedly before I found a rhythm.

But that’s not the case.

She lied to me.

She was a fucking virgin.

And now, I’m tempted to find her and teach her that no one, no fucking one, lies to me and gets away with it.





4





ANASTASIA





TWO WEEKS LATER





Today, I’m a new person.

I’m no longer Wendy, who’s captured by the pirates or who’s waiting for Peter Pan to come and get her. I no longer dream about running in that forest with the wind as my only companion.

Now, I can go back to that forest if I want to, but I won’t, because it’s too small for me now.

At any rate, I’m no longer trapped or nurturing foolish hopes. I snatched my own freedom and no one can find me anymore.

I might have left some of the Lost Boys behind, but they wanted to stay. I can’t force someone to see the light when all they’re used to is the darkness. Maybe when I have a stronger footing in the new world I’ve chosen, I’ll be able to convince them to leave.

That is, if they don’t become pirates themselves.

That’s what the pirates do. When they can’t control you, they convert you. They’ve tried that on me for fifteen years, but I escaped before they could succeed.

So now, I’m just a new fairy.

One who wears baggy clothes, has dyed her hair black, put in brown contact lenses, and is wearing black-framed glasses that hide most of my face. They’re my crutch, the glasses. Since I had them specifically made with thick lenses, I can’t make eye contact and no one can make eye contact with me.

I’m safe.

I hold on to that knowledge as I swipe my card into at entrance of my new workplace.

Weaver & Shaw.

It’s one of the most prestigious law firms, not only nationally, but also internationally. The most fascinating part about it is that the two founding partners, Nathaniel Weaver and Kingsley Shaw, have built their reputation in a matter of years.

Where I come from, it takes decades to have any type of reputation—especially one that people talk about.

That doesn’t seem to be the case at this law firm.

When I did my research, I found that Weaver & Shaw is one of the most sought-after law firms in their field. Not only due to its two ruthless founding partners, but also due to how efficient the rest of its partners and associate lawyers are.

Weaver & Shaw is a fast-paced firm, from the way they accept cases, to how they process them, and even the way they work paralegals.

Everything around me buzzes with energy. Almost everyone has a phone to their ear and something else in their hands—briefcases, case files, coffee.

I’m only equipped with my laptop bag, the strap glued to my chest. It’s the only thing I need in order to navigate in a place full of people, noise, and eye contact.

Logically, I should’ve chosen a smaller firm or one of W&S’s branches in another state—or country, but I had my reasons.