Empire of Hate: A Second Chance Enemies to Lovers Romance

AGE EIGHTEEN

I’m doing this.

Yes, it’s wrong. Yes, I’ll probably regret it and curse all my unlucky stars come morning.

But to hell with that.

To hell with being a good girl and counting every step before I take it.

To hell with being lucky.

I don’t want that. I never wanted that.

All I’ve ever wanted are peaches and him.

But I lost them both.

At eight, my allergic reaction to peaches nearly got me killed. So I can’t eat the fruit anymore—if I want to remain alive, that is.

I can’t even wear perfume with a peach smell if it has the natural fruit as an ingredient. So I wear cherry perfume instead and pretend it’s my favorite scent.

My wardrobe is filled with pink, peachy-colored outfits. My bags. My shoes. Everything.

Just because I can’t consume it, doesn’t mean I can’t stare at it from afar.

The same applies to Daniel.

We’ve had the rockiest relationship ever since that day. Although calling it a relationship is an overstatement. We’re mainly acquaintances who attend the same schools and classes and are shoved together at the same social events.

That day, I couldn’t tell Mum that I ate peaches on my own or else she would’ve been the one who killed me instead of the allergic reaction. So she assumed Daniel gave them to me, went to his mother about it, and he was grounded.

He thought I was the one who incriminated him. After that, I tried telling Mum that I did it on my own, but she wouldn’t believe that a “good girl” like me would do something so nasty. She preferred to believe the saying that it’s always the boy’s fault.

Whenever I tried to speak to Daniel at school, he’d glare at me and ignore me.

I keep missing him. Every chance. Every encounter. Every damn day.

I end up biting my lip and choking on the unsaid words he refuses to hear. He told Chloe, my close friend, that I should rot in hell.

I waited until I was alone in the bathroom and cried.

That’s what I do when it gets to be too much. I hide and cry where no one can see me tarnish my good-girl image.

Good girls don’t cry.

Good girls don’t let people see them weak.

But it’s been too much over the years.

When we were eleven, we went to one of our mothers’ gatherings and I might have followed Daniel from afar.

Sometimes, I just want to watch. It’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m not going to make him, I just want to see him.

I saw him steal the cake and take it to the other boys. Our eyes met and he paused, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Don’t you dare say anything, Peaches.”

That’s what he’s called me since we were eight, but only when he’s not mad at me. Only when he actually talks to me instead of ignoring me.

And I think I’ve fallen in love with the fruit even more since that day.

“I won’t,” I whispered, smiling.

It was one of the times I felt so goddamn proud. Because Daniel was entrusting me with a secret. We had something in common and I intended to keep it.

However, soon after, someone tattled on him and he thought it was me. I shook my head and went to him, but he pushed me until my back hit a tree.

“Stay the hell away from me, Nicole, or I’m going to hurt you next time.”

“It…wasn’t me.”

“Sure it wasn’t. Is that why you smiled after saying you won’t. You like making people trust you just so you can hurt them, don’t you?”

My eyes stung, but I couldn’t allow the tears to escape. I didn’t let Daniel see me cry when he hurt me before and that won’t change. “You’re a bloody idiot.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

That’s what he started to call me after that. A bitch.

It got worse when my stepsister, Astrid, came to live with us after her mother died when we were fifteen.

Uncle Henry told me to take her with me to Chloe’s birthday party so she’d make new friends.

And guess who the only friend she made was?

Daniel.

They fell in the pool together and then got out laughing and disappeared to where I couldn’t find them.

Since then, they’ve been inseparable.

Since then, I’ve been forced to see him come to our house, make me feel invisible, and only care about Astrid.

Sometimes, it’s like he doesn’t see me. And the only time he does is when I’m mean to Astrid.

Mum dislikes her because she’s middle class and not from our social standing. I didn’t really care about her at the beginning, but she just had to get close to Daniel.

She had to be friends with him in one freaking day while I’ve been hopelessly trying for seven years.

One day, I hid her sketchbook, just because I wanted her to fret. But it was Daniel who got mad at me, got in my face and told me, “Is your life that boring that you find pleasure in making other people’s lives hell? Why do you have to be a bitch?”

Because he only sees me when I’m being one.

It’s not like I’m physically hurting anyone. I’m just tired of being a good girl, tired of feeling lucky and privileged.

Daniel has never seen me during all the years I’ve been a good girl. Hell, he hated me for it, so maybe that’s not the answer.

Maybe all I need is to become so bad that he’ll only look at me.

Even if it’s with disapproval and glares. That way, he’s at least looking at me.

So I’ve kept being mean to Astrid, especially when he’s around. I’ve kept being a thorn in her side and making her life as miserable as mine.

I hated her and was jealous of her. I envied her lighthearted energy and how she couldn’t care less about the luxurious life she was thrust in.

I was jealous of her for making Daniel smile and show his dimples.

He’s never directed that smile at me.

Never.

I could only watch it from afar.

Until now.

I have to end this ill-fated relationship. I have to stop Daniel from misunderstanding me.

From looking everywhere except at me.

From making me invisible.

Today, we’re at a party to celebrate the football team’s win.

The captain of the football team, Levi King, is hosting the party at his mega-rich uncle’s holiday mansion.

Everyone from school had to drive for hours to get here. The car park is filled with all types of luxurious German cars that parents buy for their kids.

After all, everyone who studies at Royal Elite School is the elite of the elite. It’s the school from which prime ministers and parliament members graduate.

Papa and Uncle Henry studied there as well.

And so did Daniel’s father, Benedict Sterling. He comes from old money and is the CEO of a computer engineering company. Daniel and his older brother, Zach, are the sole heirs of a multibillion-dollar fortune and a multitude of real estate that extends beyond borders.

Zach is already studying to take over after his father retires, and Daniel is expected to follow in their footsteps. Or that’s what I gathered—I mean, spied—while Mum was talking to Aunt Nora, Daniel’s mother.

I do that a lot, spying, staying around just to hear crumbs about his life.

That’s how I learned that he’s a picky eater and only has specific places he eats from. But I don’t think Aunt Nora knows the actual reason why her son is that way about food.

I do.

Because I followed him the day his taste in food changed forever.

I was around the corner when he threw up his guts and leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

He didn’t see me, though, not even when I constantly left him my precious peach lollipops so he could chase away the bitter taste of vomit.

But that won’t be the same after today. I’ll make sure I’m out of the invisibility shadow that I’ve been living under for the past ten years.

I scarcely pay attention to what Chloe and the other girls are talking about. Which is mostly boys and fashion shows and the latest gossip.

Vain, vain, and more vain.

But I’m lucky and privileged to be part of this life, so I don’t have the right to complain. Besides, what’s the point?

Isn’t this type of luxury what other people strive for?

“Your dress is so pretty, Nicole. Is that Dior?” Hannah, one of the girls, asks.

I pause my obsessive watching session of the entrance and focus back on the conversation.

My dress is light peach-colored with subtle streaks of gold. It’s short enough to graze my upper thigh, but it’s not tight enough to make me look cheap. Its straps are an elegant gold and it’s low-cut enough to show a hint of my cleavage.

It’s a “You can look, but you can’t touch” dress at its finest.

My hair is loose and falls straight to the hollow of my back. I’m wearing my lucky peach-colored heels that allow me to stand taller than all the girls here.

The whole look makes me feel elegant and powerful, but most of all, beautiful. Like I can win battles and conquer mountains.

Or more like, a particular mountain that I haven’t even been able to scratch the surface of for years.

That’s how obsession works.

At first, you just want a glance, a touch, a word, but then greed takes over and you can’t get enough.

I can’t get enough.

“It’s Dior,” I tell Hannah with a smile. “Uncle Henry got it for me.”

“You’re so lucky your dad is a willing sponsor of your lifestyle.”

Chloe, who’s standing right beside me, releases an annoyed sound. I’ve known her since we were eight and became sort of besties.

Mostly because the other girls were too intimidated by me to ever try and befriend me.

She’s a brunette and has doe brown eyes that make her appear kind and peaceful when she’s in fact the one who metaphorically lent me the “bitch manual.”

“He’s not her dad, he’s her stepdad. Didn’t you hear her calls him Uncle Henry? Keep up, Hannah,” Chloe says with a plastic smile and I stop myself from wincing.

Yes, Uncle Henry isn’t Papa, but I wanted him to be at one point. However, I knew early on that that was impossible. Despite what Mum used to say, he only ever cared about Astrid as his real daughter.

He might not buy her things, because she doesn’t want them, and is stricter with her than he is with me, but she’s the one he makes sure is asleep every night.

As if on cue with my thoughts, Chloe tips her chin to the entryway. “The real daughter is a bum with no grace.”

The group breaks out in snickers except for me. My attention slides to the entrance and sure enough, Astrid is walking inside with her usual aloofness.

She’s wearing shorts and fishnet stockings and has some tacky star pins in her light brown hair. Astrid is short, way shorter than me, but she never wears heels, or dresses, or anything that would bring out her natural beauty.

And still, Daniel is wrapping an arm around her shoulders and laughing out loud at something she said.

I’m caught in a trance—my lids slowly droop and my heart starts a war in my chest, then drops to my fluttering stomach.

It’s a mayhem of emotions that keep mounting with each passing second like overstimulation.

Overflow.

Overdose.

Daniel has always been beautiful, but his beauty is much more severe now. He’s beautiful not in an everyday-things kind of way, but as someone who’s meant to become an actor, a model, or make a living by selling his looks.

He’s grown tall and muscular over the years. Not in a buff way, but like a lean prince from a fairy tale. The blue Elites jacket complements his frame and envelops his wide shoulders like a second skin.

His hair has become darker, but there are still those streaks of blond like a natural balayage of latte and the rays of the sun.

The same sun that shines brighter in his star-filled eyes. They’re sharper now, having lost all the boyhood that once made him mischievous.

He’s just a player.

And not only on the football team, but generally. If someone had a shot every time he shagged a random girl, they would need their liver replaced by now.

He’s become popular, but not in a “stuck-up, you’re gross to even think you can talk to me” kind of way. But more like “I’m a bus and everyone is welcome for a ride” way.

Rumor has it, Daniel is the one person people need at their party if they want it to be a success. He’s laid-back, welcoming, charming.

To everyone but me.

I tried to keep myself as disinterested as possible from that part of him, but I know he probably had sex with Royal Elite’s entire female population and is branching out to other schools for up-and-coming vaginas.

I know because he’s not shy to tell Astrid about his sexcapades, to which she calls him a pig.

I know because I heard a girl describe sex with him as “an experience of a lifetime.”

I know because I had wet dreams that night and woke up touching myself and moaning into my pillow.

I know because I cried right afterward and it wasn’t from pleasure.

Usually, I retreat whenever he’s with Astrid. I give them space and pretend I don’t care.

Not today, though.

Today, I have a plan.

“Maybe I should go teach her some manners,” I say to the girls, plastering a smirk as fake as their daddies’ wigs.

Chloe snorts. “Not sure if it will work on a hopeless case like her, but go for it.”

“I’m in the mood for charity.” I flip my hair, blinding them with a splash of natural blonde. “How do I look?”

“Ten out of ten,” Hannah says, starry-eyed.

“A bad bitch.” Chloe grins. “Show us what you got.”

I flip my hair again, then walk to them while gently swaying my hips.

Before I reach them, I stop at the beverages table and grab two shots. I pretend to be adjusting my dress, then reach into my bra and retrieve the small bag of pills I bought the last time Chloe took me to a club.

When a random bloke asked me if I wanted to have fun and flashed me the pills, I told him, “Eww, gross.” But then the wires in my brain connected together.

I know what ecstasy does, or at least, I read about its effects and how it makes someone mindless with pleasure.

I wanted that.

Needed that.

But not only for me.

So I bought the pills, behind Chloe’s and the others’ backs because I couldn’t have them figure out my plan.

I couldn’t have everyone figure out what good girls plotted behind closed doors.

There are three pills. Just in case I need the extra one.

Still pretending to fix my neckline, I pull out two of them and put each in a glass. Then I grab my pendant, the one I’ve never removed ever since I got it for my thirteenth birthday. The one that matches my eye color and calms me beyond anything else I’ve ever tried.

“What do we have here?”

I freeze, my heart catching in my throat. Christopher, another football player and the captain’s friend, slides to my side.

His curly hair kisses his forehead and his eyes twinkle with mischief. Jeez. Please tell me he didn’t see me put the pills in the drinks? I chose a corner on purpose.

“You look hot as fuck in that dress, Nikki. I bet you’d look even better out of it.”

Phew. So he’s just being his usual flirty self.

He reaches a hand for my arse, but I swat it away. “Gross. Not in this lifetime.”

Then I grab the shots and head to where I last saw Astrid and Daniel. But my stepsister is nowhere to be found.

Daniel is all alone, standing near the balcony, but that’s not all. Both of his hands are shoved in his jean pockets and he’s narrowing his eyes on me.

Not anyone else, me.

Seeing Daniel alone is as weird as witnessing a flying unicorn toward England’s nonexistent sun. But the fact that he’s also looking at me is even stranger.

My nerves start to snap and attack the rest of my body. I can feel my feet getting cold and the tips of my fingers becoming numb. But I continue channeling the inner diva in me who’s a glorified version of eight-year-old me.

Only, she has more issues now.

And they all start with him.

Daniel.

I don’t have to keep walking to him, because he closes the distance between us in a few long, determined strides.

My feet come to an abrupt halt when he nearly crashes his chest against mine and brings us both tumbling to the ground.

“What?” I ask because he’s looking at me weirdly.

More accurately, he’s glaring.

Almost like he wants to split my face open and peer inside it. Or maybe punch whatever he finds there like he’s always bruised my heart.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“And that’s any of your business because…?” Yeah, so I usually sound like this. Snobbish, mean, and completely detached.

It’s a defense mechanism.

That sadistic gleam returns to his eyes. My chest hardens for the hit, for the attack that always leaves me emotionally crippled. “Thought I would check in case you decide to steal some peaches and ruin the party.”

“Whether I eat peaches, live or die, or end up paralyzed is none of your business.”

“It is if I’m forced to attend your funeral instead of going to summer camp.”

“And who says you’re invited to my funeral? Maybe I’ll have a ban list and you’ll be at the top of it.”

That makes him pause, a muscle working in his square jaw. And did I just imagine that or did his arms become tauter?

A smirk breaks out on his lips, and although his dimples make a guest appearance, I don’t like them under this light. They’re sinister, projecting the sadism in his eyes. “Or maybe you won’t have a say in it and I’ll be sitting in the front row singing ‘Hallelujah’ in my head.”

“Then at your funeral, I’ll wear a pink dress, hold a matching umbrella, and stand on your grave, crying loudly. When people gather around, I’ll say, ‘Everyone says men with minuscule penises have short lives, but I never believed that until now.’”

His smirk widens, and I’d swear it’s about to become a smile, but he clamps it down at the last second. “All the girls who had the pleasure of seeing my cock will testify otherwise. That’s what it’s called, by the way, Peaches. A cock or a dick, not a penis. What are you, a toddler?”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and it’s not only because of what he called his thing. It’s due to hearing him say that other word.

Peaches.

He has no business speaking it so naturally that it feels intimate.

“I’m not crude like you, Daniel.”

“Oh, right. You’re prim and proper and aren’t allowed to say cock or dick. How about go down and fuck and a blowjob?”

“It’s not that I’m not allowed to. I don’t want to. They’re beneath me.”

“Then don’t talk about my cock when you haven’t seen it. Unless…you want to change that?”

“Eww, gross.” I pretend to be disgusted when I’m in fact burning up from the inside.

Maybe I should just take the drug now to bring my guard down and say what I’m feeling for once.

“You’re the one who brought it up first. Junior has a reputation to protect.”

“Did you just call your thing Junior?”

“Did you just call his name because you want to see, after all?”

“You could be the last man on earth and I wouldn’t come near you, even if humanity’s destiny depended on us.”

“Is that so?” His permanent smirk falls. “And who would you choose? The one you’re taking those shots to?”

“Who I choose is none of your concern.”

One moment I’m standing there cursing myself for ruining the chance to give him the shot, and the next, he snatches one from between my fingers and downs it in one go.

My lips fall open. “H-hey!”

“Oops.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then in another swift move, he snatches the other shot. “Guess your plans are ruined.”

And with that, he turns and leaves.

“Daniel!”

My voice is a bit high-pitched, definitely above the range I ever allow myself to speak.

Because I’m freaking out here. Is he going to drink that? What if something happens to him if he drinks a double dose?

Before I can think of a way to stop him, Daniel finds Astrid coming out of the toilet. He sweeps up another shot and gives her what was supposed to be my shot and they do a one-shot.

My shoulders fall as my lips tremble.

It doesn’t matter what I do or the lengths I go to, I’ll only remain invisible to Daniel.

Maybe it’s time I finally give up.

So why does the mere thought fill my eyes with tears?