Chapter 14: Empire of Desire: Chapter 13

My workplace is sacred.

After all, it’s where my ambition thrives. Where my plans are made and my strategies are conducted.

This is where I come to focus and forget about the girl I leave behind and go back late so that I don’t see her. Only, she’s not a girl, is she?

I want to call her that to stop my dick from having ideas, but she was never that—a girl. At least, not for some time.

She’s a woman now. A grown-up fucking woman with legs that go for miles and a tiny waist that can almost fit in only one of my palms.

And she’s currently in the place where I’m supposed to be focused, not sidetracked.

Gwyneth is right here, at W&S, and while it’s not her first time, she doesn’t usually dress like she’s at a business meeting.

And definitely not with these three fuckers—my nephew included. Kingsley made it his mission to keep her away from them and their whoring ways. So I’m just taking care of it on his behalf. Like I promised him.

It’s definitely not because of how I want to jam their faces into the table. I shouldn’t be thinking about hurting three of my best attorneys. I shouldn’t, and yet that’s the only fucking urge that’s rushing through my veins instead of blood.

“Who’s taking whom in?” I ask all of them, not bothering to cool down my tone.

I don’t have the frame of mind to, because she’s here. In my focus zone. And she needs to be fucking gone.

“Me.” Knox places an arm around her shoulder. “Gwen will be interning with me.”

She smiles up at him with those bright, bright eyes, all green and with barely any gray or even blue. She’s happy, ecstatic, and the thought of murder becomes more and more appealing.

And that’s an anomaly for a lawyer. A fucking error in the matrix that shouldn’t exist.

But it does, and the more she smiles at him, the more he has his hands on her, the redder and hotter that thought becomes.

“Remove your hand if you don’t want a harassment suit, Van Doren,” I say with enough nonchalance that doesn’t betray my disturbing inner thoughts.

Sebastian grins and I glare at him, so he pretends to be sipping from his coffee and going through his phone. Daniel stands, hugs a box of pastries to his chest, then grabs my nephew by the shoulder and drags him out. “We’re out of here, but we’re rooting for you, Gwen. Welcome to the dark side.” He winks at her and Sebastian gives me a knowing, taunting look before they’re both out of the break area.

It’s only the three of us. Me, Gwyneth, and Knox, who still has his fucking arm around her shoulder.

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. Right, Gwen?” Knox shows her his dreamy smile, the one I’ve seen him use to charm women. “We get along, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” she says readily, cheerfully, with that energy that I don’t like others to see. I don’t like others to see anything about her. Period.

“No.”

At my closed off tone, her smile falls and her lips purse before she steps away from Knox and marches to me with hard, determined steps.

But they’re for me. Her entire attention and those ever-changing eyes are only focused on me and me alone.

“I have the right to apply for an internship.”

“And I have the right to refuse your nonexistent application.”

“But why? I have the grades to be accepted here. This is discrimination.”

“And you can sue for it,” Knox tells her. “With the right arguments.”

“You shut up before I call a board meeting about your malpractices.”

“Hear that, Gwen?” He steps beside her. “I can sue him for that threat, too. You’ll be my witness, won’t you?”

“If he doesn’t let me intern, I will be.” She’s talking to Knox, but her entire attention is on me, her eyes digging holes into my face.

I’ve had countless opponents and most of them didn’t dare to even look at me, but Gwyneth doesn’t only stare, she also glares and talks back, among a lot of other fucking things.

“You can’t win against me in court, Van Doren. Maybe in a couple of decades, and only if I’m suffering from some form of dementia. And you, Gwyneth, do you honestly believe threatening me is the right way to handle this?”

“Well, I asked nicely and you didn’t listen.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to.”

“He’s not the boss of you, Gwen,” Knox says. “If you want an internship in your dad’s firm, you just have to take it.”

She squares her shoulders. “That’s right. You’re not the boss of me, Uncle Nate.”

I grind my teeth, and it’s not only because she called me that after so long, but also because she said it in a taunting way. In a “you’re my father’s best friend, so you’re supposed to give me what I want” kind of way.

It takes all my self-restraint not to catch those words and jam them back down her throat so she doesn’t utter them again. Maybe make her choke on my fingers at the same time. Or another part of me.

“Yet,” I say.

“What?”

“I’m not the boss of you yet, considering that you do want to intern for me.”

“Not for you,” she says slowly. “For Knox.”

“That won’t be happening, so it’s either with me or you’re out of here.”

Her lips fall open and she swallows, then clamps them shut before they open again.

Knox releases a tsking sound. “Like uncle, like nephew, all you and Sebastian ever do is steal my interns.”

“But…I want to intern with Knox,” she says with more conviction.

“Then leave.”

She purses those lips again, her body getting rigid and her nostrils flaring. She’s clinking her nails against each other, too.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“Or follow me.” I turn around, not waiting to see if she follows.

She will.

Not only did she come over here with one intention, but she’s also not the type who gives up, not even if she has to make compromises.

I’m the one who’s supposed to push her away, not offer her an internship or even invite her to my office.

This is my focus zone, after all, and having her in it will fuck everything up. But it’s not like she disappears from my mind when she’s out of sight.

Whoever said that is a fucking moron.

Besides, either she’s with me or with someone else. And there’s no way in fuck I was going to let her be with Knox, Daniel, or even Sebastian.

I’ve been hit by the same haze that took over me when Aspen told me that my “wife” brought cupcakes and was talking with the three fuckers. Logical thoughts were the last thing on my mind when I barged in there. I knew she didn’t like it when I refused the internship, but I didn’t think she’d show up and negotiate her way into one.

Behind my back.

I’m well aware of her half-jogging behind me as I march to my office, but I don’t look at her. I’m charged up enough as it is without being distracted by the sight of her.

If I had enough decency, I would slow down and let her catch up, but that term doesn’t fucking exist in my dictionary.

As soon as we’re inside, I shut the door, lean against it, and face her.

Gwyneth stands in the middle of the office, catching her breath. But then she glares at me with her arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t want to intern with you.”

“Good thing you don’t have a say in it.”

“But you said no the other time. What made you change your mind?”

Her going to someone else.

Knox’s hand on her.

The fucking cupcakes she brought.

Any. All.

“Why do you want to intern here?” I ask instead of answering her question.

“I want the experience.”

“Why now?”

“It’s summer and pre-law students intern during the summer.”

“That’s all?”

“And…to keep busy, okay? I can’t afford to feel empty right now, so don’t stop me from doing this.”

It’s about Kingsley. Fuck.

I should’ve known that the happy façade she puts on in front of Martha and the world is just that. A façade. A disguise to hide what she’s feeling inside.

She’s excellent at that. Hiding. Whether physically or emotionally. Especially when it comes to the emotional pain, because she’s far more open in other areas.

I push off the door and approach her slowly. I don’t miss the way her eyes widen a little or how she watches my every move. She does it all the time back at the house, which is one more reason why I keep my fucking distance.

“Why didn’t you say that when you first talked to me about the internship? When asking for something, you’re supposed to back it up with all the right arguments.”

“You didn’t really give me a chance. You said no, and that’s final. And the discussion is over. Your three favorite expressions, remember?”

“Watch the tone, Gwyneth.”

“I’m sure Knox wouldn’t mind it if you just let me intern with him.”

“That’s out of the question and that’s final.”

“See? You said it again! It’s final this and final that. I’m not a robot, you know. There’s this little thing called emotions, and I’m not desensitized to them. I don’t have that word on my negative list.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a thing. You don’t need to know about it.” Then she mutters under her breath, “Maybe I should add you to the list.”

“Are you calling me names, Gwyneth?”

She fakes an innocent smile. “I can’t do that to my new boss.”

“How about your husband?”

Her lips fall open again, and I revel in that, probably more than I should.

I love taking her off guard, making her bothered in her own fucking skin. It’s a small taste of what she does all the time.

“I can call you names,” she whispers.

“Such as Uncle Nate?”

“That was because I wanted to…”

“What? Get attention? Provoke me? What exactly were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll call you kiddo until you figure it out then.”

“Not that! I…just wanted to provoke you, I think.”

“Will you be repeating it?”

“No.”

“Good, or else you’ll be back to being kiddo.”

Her lips part again and a bright fucking light shines in her gaze. But instead of focusing on the happiness she’s projecting in waves, on how pleased she is about not being a kiddo anymore, I march to my desk, retrieve a thick case file, and push it at her chest.

“Go through the previous case records and find me something I can use.”

She remains there, fingers wrapped around the file. “That’s all?”

“What else should there be? You asked for an internship and this is it. I won’t take it easy on you, Gwyneth. In fact, it’ll just get more difficult going forward. So if you don’t have the will to go through this, walk away now.”

“I can do it. I will do it.”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe things I don’t see.”

“You’re so cynical, you know that?”

“And you’re still standing here. Go work and behave.”

Her hold on the file falters and I lean forward in case she drops it.

She bites her lower lip and I don’t take my eyes off it, watching her wet it, her teeth nibbling on the plump cushion before she finally releases it. “B-behave?”

It’s like we’re playing a game of cat and mouse, and I don’t think I have the will to stop where this game is going anymore.

Or maybe I lost control of it a while ago and I’m only just admitting it now.

Either way, this is heading in a dangerous fucking direction, and I’m letting it.

Because fuck this. Fuck whatever is left of my conscience. I’ve never had one anyway, so I might as well stop pretending it’s there.

“Yes, Gwyneth. Behave or you’ll pay.”