Page 48 of Empire

“Exactly right,” Easton says.

“No women?”

A grin pulls across Sawyer’s lips, and his eyes sparkle with silent laughter. “Now what kind of misogynic organization would we be if we allowed women to enter our ranks? Haven’t you heard? If your woman isn’t in the kitchen or cleaning up after you, she should be in your bed with either her legs spread or her ass in the air.”

My lips press into a tight line as disgust pulses heavily through my veins. “They don’t really think that, do they?”

“A lot of them do, yeah,” Sawyer says. “These are men in power we’re talking about. They’re all the fucking same. They want the world to kneel at their feet.”

“Ugh, gross,” I grumble. “So who’s this big-time leader of yours?”

Something hardens in Easton’s eyes as he continues watching Zade. “Up until three weeks ago,” he mutters, “his father.”

My eyes widen and my head whips back to glance at Zade, a strange type of understanding flourishing through me. That really explains a lot about why he is the way he is. It probably couldn’t have been easy being raised by the type of man who would lead an organization like that. The pressure he must have felt growing up, the need to be the biggest, the best, the fastest. “What do you mean, ‘up until three weeks ago’?” I ask, knowing damn well I’m toeing the line and at any moment they could pull the rug out from below me and clamp up like a steel trap. “What happened?”

A coldness sweeps over Easton and his stare almost becomes deadly. “Zade slit his throat.”

The charcoal falls from my hands as a horrified gasp slips from between my lips, and I can’t help but turn my gaze on Zade again. I knew he was vicious. I knew he had the ability to effortlessly take another man’s life, but his father? His own flesh and blood? “Why would he do that?” I question in a low tone, my heart racing a million miles per hour.

“Why does anyone do anything?” Easton challenges. “For power.”

Unease settles into my chest, and I pick up the charcoal, attempting to concentrate on what I’m doing, but the will just isn’t there anymore. Sensing that this new information has rattled me, Dalton moves toward us and glances down at the portrait, his brows shooting up. “Holy shit,” he says. “Are you some kind of artist? That’s fucking amazing.”

I glance over my drawing, taking in the subtle, feminine curve of my face, those haunted features perfectly depicting the fear I've felt over the past two weeks. My gaze travels up to the eyes and a proud smile settles over my lips as I realize just how perfectly I captured the similarities between Easton’s snake and the one weaving in and out of the portrait’s eye sockets.

It truly is a haunting image. Gothic and lonely, while also so poetic.

Hearing Dalton’s remarks, Sawyer shuffles over to glance over it, and I watch as his brows shoot up too. He scoffs, the sound a strange mix of amused and impressed. “And you say we’re fucked up,” he comments before nodding to himself. “That looks just like Venom. It’s uncanny.”

“Venom?” I question.

“My snake,” Easton says before passing his phone back to me. “Show me.”

I take a quick picture and hand his phone back almost faster than he gave it to me, not wanting him to think I’m holding onto it any longer than necessary. “Not bad,” he says. “You finished?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I mean, there’s always more details I could add, but yeah. I think I’m done.”

Easton nods and pushes to his feet. “I gotta get out of here,” he says, reaching down for his shirt, but thankfully not pulling it on. After all, to see him put his shirt on and ruin the drawing so soon after finishing it would break my heart. I don’t know what I was hoping for though. It’s not like he’s going to be able to do much with all that charcoal on his back.

Easton doesn’t bother with a goodbye and just takes off, leaving me alone with Dalton and Sawyer while Zade continues to make demands on his phone. I stretch up, my body cramping from leaning over Easton for the past hour, and as soon as I feel the blood starting to pump again, I reach for the napkin that lays discarded from my lunch.

Getting to my feet, I try to wipe all the charcoal off my fingers, but it’s no use. I’m going to need a good shower and a scrubbing brush if I want to feel clean again. “I’m umm . . . I’m gonna go back down to Zade’s apartment and try to get this shit off,” I say, my mind focused on my fingers.

Dalton nods. “I’ll come down with you.”

I give him a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes as I grab what’s left of the charcoal sticks and dump them on my lunch tray. I hoist it all into my arms and make my way back to the elevator when Sawyer falls into my other side. I glance up at him with a questioning stare, and he looks back at me as though I’m a fool to be questioning him. “What?” he mutters. “You think I’m staying up here so I can listen to Zade talkin’ shit on that phone all day? Fuck that.”

“Good point,” I laugh.

We step into the elevator and the second the door closes, the tension in the small metal box skyrockets. I suck in a breath, watching Dalton from the corner of my eye as he discreetly moves in behind me.

I close my eyes, feeling his closeness despite not laying a single finger on me. “Is there something you need?” I question, already panting. I know exactly what he wants, and damn it, I’m going to give it to him.

He groans low and I feel him move into me, his sweet breath brushing across my neck. My knees shake, and I feel his rock-hard cock grind against me. “You know damn well what I need.”

My head tilts, inviting him in when the elevator jolts, coming to a violent stop. My eyes spring open as a soft gasp escapes my lips. I glance over to find Sawyer’s finger on the emergency stop button and his hungry stare locked on me.

Oh my.

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