Empire of Sin (Empire #2)(23)

Falling back onto my seat, I accept the video call, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, T.”

My sister and I obviously aren’t identical twins, so she doesn’t look much like me. Her eyes are darker, bigger, and used to be sadder. Not now, though. There’s a light in them, a spark.

Life.

That’s what she lacked until she met her husband during our senior year in secondary school.

She’s not smiling back, though, a deep frown etching between her brows.

“Where’s my nephew?” I search behind her. “How dare you video call and not show me Remi?”

“He’s having a bath with his father.” She inches forward to the screen and her black hair follows the motion, framing her face. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just got a weird feeling. You know, twin hunch.”

“There’s no such thing as twin hunch, T. Especially for fraternal twins, so you’re just making that up to get information.”

“Stop the lawyer talk, Knox, and yes, there’s such a thing as a twin hunch. That’s how we found each other when I was lost in the market while we were kids, remember?”

I grunt.

“So?” she insists, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s going on?”

“Work.”

“And?”

“And shagging.” I grin. “You want to hear details about that?”

“Ew, no, and you’re not changing the subject.”

“You’re a pain in the arse, T.”

“And glad of it. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I smash your Metallica collection?”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Yes, I will if you don’t spill.”

“I’m bribing Dad to watch them for me, so screw you, T.”

“I’ll just bribe Dad more and have him film me while I do it, then I’ll take the next plane to New York so I can find out what’s going on myself.”

“I’ll call Ronan and tell him his wife is on the loose.”

“Joke’s on you because I’ll just bring him with me so he’ll annoy the shit out of you.”

I groan.

“That’s what I thought. Now, spill, Knox.”

I release a sigh. I can win a million battles in court but not one against Teal’s sense of infuriating perseverance. Especially when she senses that something is wrong.

“It’s really just a case, T.”

“What type of case?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Apparently, I do.” She softens her tone. “Please, Knox, tell me. I won’t be able to sleep if I’m worried about you. Isn’t it enough that I can’t see you as much as I want? I feel like you’re slipping away.”

“I’m here, T. I’ll always be here.” I inhale deeply, thinking about how to deliver this.

The best option is to lie, but she’ll see straight through that. No matter how much I’ve perfected my fa?ade, she’s the only one who detects my bullshit and calls me out on it.

She’s waiting for me, her face blank, but she doesn’t say anything.

Words never were and never will be her strength. She’s also really a pain in the arse, because she knows she can get to me with a look alone. That’s how she used to communicate her discomfort to me when we were kids and she didn’t speak.

After a moment of fruitless deliberation, I say, “A woman wanted me to represent her because she’s suing her father for sexual abuse and is demanding monetary compensation.”

That look returns, the dimmed one that kills all the light in her eyes. Eyes that were dead for so long and finally started being alive ten years ago. That’s gone now as if, like me, she’s back to that hellhole in Birmingham. The hole filled with the stench of alcohol, drugs, and men.

And I want to fucking shoot myself. This is why I don’t want to tell her, why I keep it all buried inside.

I’m a fucking bastard, but I had one purpose—protecting my baby sister.

And I just screwed it up with flying colors.

“Listen, T, it’s not…”

“I knew it,” she says in a calm tone.

“Knew what?”

“You’re hiding things from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. It’s just work. There’s really nothing you should worry about.”

“But it’s affecting you. I can see the hardness forming on your face, Knox.”

“I’m fine.”

“I said that, too, and we both know how that ended up.”

“I’m a criminal defense attorney, T. I’ve handled worse than this.”

“Worse, yes, but not that exact subject.”

“Didn’t you tell me to defend those who are as defenseless as we were?”

“Not if it triggers you, not if it takes away your humanity and steals you from me.”

“Who’s stealing who?” a male voice calls from her end before Ronan, her husband, appears by her side. He’s shirtless and carrying a half-naked Remington in his arms. They’re both wearing towels and their hair is wet. Is that shampoo on Remi’s head?