Tarnished Empire: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Billionaire Romance

by Ava Harrison

  “What do you want to drink?”

  She looks around the table, scanning all the bottles in front of her.

  “Tequila,” she responds.

  You can learn a lot about a girl from the drink they pick. Yesterday, she drank champagne, today tequila. She needs liquid courage for whatever the next part of her plan is.

  I lift my hand and signal the waitress. “Two shots of Don Julio. Extra chilled.”

  There might be a bottle already at my table, but it’s not good enough for me. To get the drink to the right temperature, it needs a shaker, something that is not at my disposal right now. However, the waitress in front of me knows that even though I’m a scotch drinker, when I do indulge in tequila, I like it prepared a certain way, so she has one in her hand already as she smiles down at me.

  It doesn’t take long before the shots are poured, and with glasses now in hand, I raise mine for a toast.

  “What shall we celebrate?” I ask.

  “Letting loose. Having fun. Getting drunk?”

  “New friends?” I respond, my voice dropping an octave. All the wicked things I want to do to her are evident in my tone.

  Her pupils widen a fraction, but not enough for someone to notice unless they were watching.

  Good.

  Keep her on her toes.

  5

  Phoenix

  I’m ready to leave. Having a conversation and flirting are hard to do at a location like this.

  Sure, I could throw myself at him, but from what I saw the day before when I was watching him, that would not hold his interest for long.

  The night before, plenty of women approached him. They rubbed their barely dressed bodies against him, but not one of them held his attention. I was the only one, and that’s because I paid him no mind.

  I know plenty of assholes like him.

  Not only from my early upbringing, but also from my experience at the private schools I went to in Switzerland. I learned there that men want what they think they can’t have.

  So, I played coy. Now, it’s time for me to go, and I’m not sure the gamble paid off.

  Maybe I misread the situation. Maybe he's not falling for it.

  I stand from the table, and he looks up at me.

  Please take the bait, I silently pray. Please. This is my last chance to help. To prove I can help.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” His deep voice cuts through my nerves, and when he smirks, I think I might fall over from the anxious feeling coursing through me. If what I’m doing isn’t bad enough, him being this handsome makes it even harder.

  I do my best to plaster on a sweet yet sexy smile.

  “I’m going home,” I respond.

  “Already? You just got here.” He shifts in his seat and then moves to stand. When he’s directly in front of me, I can barely breathe. He’s too close. Way too close. Then if his proximity wasn’t enough, he pushes his sleeves up, showing me his tanned and heavily tattooed arms.

  Shit.

  This is not okay.

  This man needs to come with warning labels.

  It should be illegal to be this sexy.

  He’s stealing the oxygen from my lungs. Everything about him—his eyes, the way he holds my gaze—demands respect. He commands attention, and I hate the way I feel when he looks at me because I hate him for hurting the only person I love.

  Why does he have to be so damn handsome? And why does he have to know it? We stare at each other, and my breath stills in my chest, wanting to come out in ragged bursts from the pounding of my heart. I will it not to and demand my heart to hold a steady beat of indifference. Being so close to the objective, I can’t falter now.

  I’m too damn close to mess this up. I’ve come too far.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Breathe, goddammit. Breathe and act like you aren’t affected by him and his larger-than-life presence.

  “I have to go. Plus …” I start to say, trying desperately to set the trap. “It’s too loud in here.” I gesture around to the club and all that it entails—music, dancing, and debauchery.

  He cocks his head to the left. “Come to my place.” His words are powerful. He’s not asking. He’s telling.

  I shake my head. “I can’t.” I really freaking can’t because the way I’m all jumbled up, I’d forget why I’m here and end up kissing this man. My gaze dips on instinct, and I look at his full and majorly kissable lips.

  Shit.

  Look up, Phoenix.

  His forehead. That’s a safe place to look.

  I watch as his brow furrows, and I wonder if he will say more to convince me, but he shakes his head. “You misunderstand me. I wasn’t inviting you tonight.”

  “Oh.” I sound like an idiot, but I’m confused. Isn’t that what he said?

  “What I was going to say, had you let me, was that tomorrow I’m having a small gathering on my yacht. Come. It will be much quieter than this.” He gestures to the crowd, dancing and milling around us.

  The answer is yes. This invitation is exactly my goal. I have to say yes, but I keep quiet for a minute.

  Again, my heart pounds. This is my in.

  But I don’t want to seem too desperate, so instead, I lower my gaze to the floor, and then I count slowly in my head.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  When I get to ten, I look up from the speck of imaginary dirt I was staring at. It’s too dark for me to have seen anything, but in my head, I know it was there.

  “There will be people there?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I finally meet his eyes when I ask, “What time and where?”

  “Party starts at eight p.m. My yacht is docked at the pier. It’s the last one docked, and it’s called the Empire.”

  I want to barf in my mouth. Of course, it is. An empire he stole.

  “Interesting name.”

  “You would think that,” he smarts, his smirk dangerously close to detonating my underwear. This hits too close to home. I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m sure it will bleed.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally say, and without waiting for him to say anything, I give one last smile and turn my back on him.

  Then I’m walking out of the VIP area and the club. When I leave the building, and the warm air hits my face, it makes me feel like my skin is on fire.

  I need to calm down.

  I need to come up with a plan.

  I walk to the street and make a quick left. As soon as I’m out of distance from the club, I fish my phone out of the pocket of my dress. Who doesn’t love a dress with pockets?

  The phone rings as I walk closer and closer to my hotel.

  Finally, I hear my father’s voice.

  “Nix?” he answers in a low and troubled voice. He’s not happy with my plan, and from his tone, I can tell he’s nervous.

  “Job done. I have my in.”

  “Not the phone, Nix,” he responds, and I feel silly for not thinking of that. “George will meet you at the bar in your hotel. Ten minutes,” my father says before hanging up.

  I knew he had men here, but I didn’t realize they were that close.

  Knowing what I’m about to do, it makes me feel safer. Knowing George is here will help calm my nerves tomorrow.

  After a few more blocks, I’m back at the hotel and head straight to the bar. The woman standing behind it smiles. “What can I get for you?” she asks, her French accent curling around each word. She appears to be around my age, and I wonder what brought her to work at this hotel? Is she a fresh graduate like me, trying to find her place in the world? Or maybe she came here on vacation and fell in love? A million scenarios run through my brain as I realize I haven’t answered her yet. Instead, I’ve been gawking.

  “Vodka martini straight up,” I respond before pulling my attention away from her as I wait. I’m halfway through my drink before George sits down. George has been a loyal employee of my fat
her for as long as I can remember. I don’t know him well, but I trust him with my life.

  We don’t look at each other as we drink our drinks.

  “He invited me to his boat tomorrow,” I tell him, never looking at him.

  “When and where?” he asks. His voice is low as though he’s trying extra hard not to alert anyone to the fact we are talking to each other.

  I fill him in on the details, and then I turn to meet his stare even though I shouldn’t. “I’m going.”

  “Your father won’t like that.”

  “It’s on his yacht. He could keep information …”

  “Be that as it may, he won’t let you do that.”

  “Then we won’t tell him.”

  “Nix, you know I can’t do that.” He tilts his head to the side and pleads with his eyes.

  “Then find a way to be on that boat.”

  “I’ll be there,” he responds, but his voice is tight, and I know this will be no small feat.

  “How?”

  “Let me worry about that.” He chuckles, and I nod in agreement.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll only be there long enough to look around. He must have a place where he puts his stuff. In and out. It will be easy.”

  “I’m still telling your father.”

  “Fine.”

  Then I lift my drink and take a swig. With that out of the way, my nerves grow even more. The plan is set, so now I just need to follow through on it.

  6

  Alaric

  I’m still in the club drinking my scotch when Cristian approaches my table. Placing my drink down, I tilt my head to look up at him.

  “You take care of it?” I ask, and he nods. I stand from my seat and move until I’m right before him. “And …?”

  “Tom is following them as you requested. They’re at a hotel.”

  My brow lifts. “Is that so?”

  “They’re at the bar. How would you like me to tell them to proceed?”

  “Tell Tom as soon as the girl is gone that I want whoever she was speaking to in the warehouse by the pier. I’ll be there shortly to see what the little dove is up to.”

  With that settled, I don’t bother to tell my men I’m leaving. I pay them to watch and follow. When I stride out the door, my men, as expected, flank me. As soon as the warm air hits my face, my caravan of SUVs comes to a stop at the sidewalk; they’re here for me and my men.

  I walk toward the second one. Pulling the door open, I step inside and sit. Some of my men go to the first SUV and some to the third. Cristian is the only one to join me, sitting in the front with Peter.

  There is no need for me to speak. My team runs like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knows where we are going, what we are doing, and most importantly, who we will torture.

  If Michael Lawrence thinks he can make a play against me, he is grossly mistaken.

  Sending his daughter in to do his work will be a grave mistake.

  Not just for him but also her.

  I don’t relish in the thought of killing a woman. In fact, I’ve never killed one. But seeing as he sent her in, I might have to reconsider my stance on that. I govern myself by one strict rule: Never murder anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

  Guess time will tell with this one.

  The ride to the warehouse at the dock doesn’t take long, and eventually, we pull up to what appears to be an abandoned building from the outside.

  I pay good money to keep up the appearance that nothing is here. I also pay very good money to the owner of the building to leave me undisturbed.

  Luckily for me, the owner is a friend, not a foe, and although he takes the money, he would turn a blind eye regardless if I paid him. But I loathe being in anyone’s debt.

  The only time I have ever asked for a favor was from Cyrus Reed, but I have long since returned that one.

  When the SUV pulls to a stop, I throw my door open and step into the warm salty air. My men are out of their vehicles before my foot even hits the pavement so they can walk by my side. Once we reach the entrance, they throw open the rusted metal door for me. This warehouse stores guns—my guns—but more than that, it currently holds Michael’s man, sitting front and center tied naked to a chair.

  As much as I don’t want to see him naked, it’s a necessity.

  Having him in his birthday suit is the only way I can, with one hundred percent certainty, know that he isn’t wearing a listening device or any form of tracking device.

  He hasn’t noticed me yet. I’m still lurking in the shadows, but the moment my feet echo in the large cavernous space, he lifts his head and meets my stare.

  The moment recognition sets in, I can see his pupils dilate in fear.

  His body begins to shake the closer I get.

  Yep, bastard. You’re caught.

  He knows it. I know it, and the tiny beads of sweat that roll down the side of his face tell me he knows what this means for him.

  He’s dead.

  The only question now is if his death will be painless or if I will have to torture him for the information I need.

  As soon as I’m standing directly in front of him, Cristian hands me a folder similar to the one from last night.

  It contains all the pertinent information on the man in my custody.

  “What do we have here?” I step closer, and with each move, I allow my lips to tip up into a smile. “It seems we have caught vermin,” I state to Cristian.

  “That we have,” he responds.

  “And what do we do when we find vermin?” I ask, mocking the tied-up man.

  “We kill it.”

  My men laugh.

  “But not before we play.” A table loaded with instruments to make his demise very painful sits beside the man.

  I look over what they have set in front of me. A knife, pliers, scissors …

  “What to use first?”

  “Pliers,” I hear from my right and look over at Cristian. My mouth opens on a chuckle.

  “Always so violent. Maybe we should let”—I pick up the dossier and look for his name—“George here decide if we need to make this painful before I start to rip his fingernails out one by one.”

  “So, what’s it going to be, Georgie boy? Painful or …” I pull the gun out of the back of my pants. “Not so painful.”

  “Please, I don’t know anything.” He sounds like a blubbering baby as he begs for his life. I take a step over to the table, grabbing the knife.

  “It seems you don’t want to take the painless way out. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought.” With the knife in my hand, he watches me. “Listen, we don’t have to make this hard. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know. If you do that, I won’t go looking for your family. I won’t pay your brother a visit.”

  His eyes widen at that, but apparently, I misjudged his love for his brother because he still doesn’t speak.

  I drag the knife up his leg. The blade cuts into his skin, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

  It’s obvious where my knife is leading.

  “Okay, let’s try another approach. Tell me what Phoenix is planning.”

  His head lifts, and he meets my stare again with wide eyes full of surprise. Interesting.

  He thought he was here for something else and didn’t realize we’d put two and two together.

  “Yes, that’s right, George, we know all about Phoenix … Nix. Michael’s daughter.”

  “She has nothing to do with this.” His voice cracks.

  “No. That’s where you’re wrong. She has everything to do with this.”

  I remove the knife from where it rests on his thigh and angle it up.

  “I wouldn’t shake too much if I were you. Here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to kill you regardless. But if you don’t tell me what Phoenix has planned, then I will feed you your balls, and then I will keep torturing you before I find your brother and bring him here.” Smile. Yep. I’m a sick motherfucker, but no one fucks with me.
>
  “She wants on your yacht.”

  “This I know. More.”

  He shakes his head, but I lift the knife upward. “She plans to seduce you enough to get into your office.”

  “Was she sent in to kill me?”

  “No. Please don’t hurt her. She’s had a rough enough life.” Interesting. “She just wants to find out where you keep her father’s guns. She wasn’t planning on hurting you. We can’t afford to miss this delivery, so she’s stepped in to get the intel.”

  “And no one is backing her up?”

  “I was.”

  “What is her father’s role in this plan?”

  His lips form a thin line, not answering me.

  “Does he approve?”

  “He agreed reluctantly. He didn’t want her to do this, but he knows his daughter, and he knows once Nix wants something, she gets it.”

  I flick the knife in my hand, twirling it around to decide if this is enough information. I’m not surprised by what he is telling me. I knew there was a plan, but a part of me had hoped I wouldn’t have to kill her.

  I still don’t.

  Except he killed my brother, so it would only be fair for me to kill the one person who means something to him.

  The idea holds weight but still tastes bitter in my mouth.

  “What are you going to do to me now?” he asks, wondering if I’m going to torture him for more information

  I could.

  I could use this moment to find out more, but I am a man of my word. I told him if he told me her plan, then I wouldn’t hurt him more than I have to. Death not included.

  As much as this is an opportunity that shouldn’t be passed up, I won’t.

  Turning to Cristian, I give him the nod. He returns the sentiment.

  He knows me.

  He knows my word is gold.

  He knows I never go back on it.

  And in that way, I am honorable.

  Without a backward glance at the man still sitting naked in a chair, tied up and bleeding from his leg, I walk out of the warehouse and toward the car.

  Gunfire rings through the air as soon as I open the door.

  It’s done.

  Now to catch a bird.