Page 3 of Empire of Lust

With her asleep, I use the restroom, wash my face, and brush out my long, brunette waves. The only form of light is the moonlight streaming through the windows, and I let out a long breath. I crave the dark, of not knowing what’s hiding in it.

Tatum stirs when I climb in on the other side of the bed. “It’s just me,” I whisper.

“I know. I’m not that drunk.” She rolls to her side, facing me, bunching a pillow under her head. “I’m sorry.”

“For not being very drunk?”

“For giving you shit about Lucas. You’re right,” she admits with a sigh. “Kristoff isn’t much better. I don’t even think he likes me sometimes.”

It’s rare for her to let down her guard, and the fact she just confessed that out loud tells me it’s been weighing on her for a while.

“I’m sure he likes you,” I console, tucking hair behind her ear before patting her cheek. “What’s not to like about you?”

“You know what I mean. He goes from hot to cold out of nowhere. Sometimes… it’s like he’s two different people.” She bites her lip, her smooth brow creasing. “One minute, he’s sweet and affectionate, then out of nowhere, he treats me like I’m an inconvenience. He can be really mean, and I don’t understand it.”

Concern for her churns in my gut. “How long has this been going on?” Kristoff has always been very standoffish. Quiet, considerate, andalmostperfect. But if he’s hurting her or treating her like shit, something needs to be done.

She looks away for a long moment before focusing her attention back on me. “Not long. I’m thinking he might have somebody else.”

“Somebody else?” I’m almost flabbergasted. This is the first time I’ve ever heard her mention this. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to throw away a diamond like you, and if he is, then maybe it’s for the better.”

“I’m hoping the trip to France will make things better.” Her eyes slide shut as sleep threatens to take hold. “A whole month together.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” I murmur, while wondering if spending a month so far away with a disinterested boyfriend is the best idea. I’d hate to see him abandon her in another country, and if he hurts her.Jesus.I can only imagine the wrath of her father and Romero.

Now that I have that weighing on my mind, I know sleep will be impossible. That, and I’m still buzzing off the chaos of driving from one party to another, the socializing, and the fact I graduated from college.I did it. I smile at the thought, prouder than ever of myself. That’s as far as it goes, though. Part of me thought if I hit this goal, I’d be happier, fuller, but if anything, I feel emptier, sadder.

I worked hard, got good grades, applied for internships, and went to all the interviews. My father practically glowed all day and couldn’t stop bragging at dinner about the job I’ll be starting in a week.

“You’re very lucky to have found a job so soon.”

The problem is, I don’t feel lucky. I feel trapped. Like my life is a train set on a track with only one direction to go. No future of venturing off the tracks. Otherwise, I’d risk derailment. It’s why I chose a career in economics.

It’s safe. Safe job. Safe boyfriend.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

I’m in control of my life, but it’s all a well-constructed performance. I can only speed up or slow down. There’s no changing course and no turning around. Letting out a sigh, I reason with insanity. I’m only making myself miserable thinking about this. Tossing the covers back, I shove out of bed, moving slowly, so I don’t wake Tatum. Maybe some tea and a snack will quiet my brain.

As soon as I step outside of Tatum’s room, my thoughts shift. I try not to think of Callum, where he is, or who he might be with. Whenever I think of him, it’s usually in fantasy, since he has no idea of the crush I’ve harbored for years.And he never will.Nothing will ever come from my illicit thoughts about my best friend’s much older, but incredibly sinful father.

Like a slap to the face, my thoughts return to the reality of my life. Callum will never know my true feelings. I have Lucas and mysafejob. I know I should be happy, but I’m not. Is it wrong to want happiness when it can be so fleeting? It can dissolve like cotton candy under a sprinkle of water. You would think I should know better than to seek it out. It makes more sense to study in a field that’s always going to be in demand and get a stable job with a good company—my father’s mantra for as long as I can remember.

“Happiness comes after the basics are met and then some. It comes from security.”I can practically hear his deep, robust voice in my ear.

I’ve got a boyfriend who has a job. A degree and a job of my own lined up, and yet I don’t want it. None of it. Don’t ask me what I actually want because I have no idea. There’s no concrete image in my mind. Whenever I imagine what my happiness would be, only one word comes to mind:passion. Living a life that leaves me eager to get out of bed in the morning. For new experiences, new places, and new people.

But who knows? If I had that, I might crave a mundane life as an economist with a boyfriend who likes sex a few times a week and a favorite Chinese takeout joint at the end of the block. Maybe some people aren’t wired for passion and excitement. They only think they are because it’s something they’ve never experienced.

I wish I could believe that was the case for me. I can’t shake the sense of there being something bigger and better out there, yet it’s still out of reach.

The kitchen is dark once I reach it, but the patio lights that shine through the sliding glass door leading outside cast enough of a glow that I’m able to navigate my way to the fridge. There isn’t any sign of Callum, and I almost frown at the thought.Get a grip. He doesn’t even know I exist beyond being Tatum’s best friend.

Pulling the fridge door open, I find it stocked with an assortment of veggies and fruit. I forget the idea of tea when my eyes land on a pre-made yogurt smoothie, and while I’d rather have something gross and greasy to fit my mood, I grab a bottle before perching on a stool at the island in the center of the room. The house, if you could call it that, is beautifully decorated in grays and blues with dark wood accents. It’s sleek but homey. The kitchen houses high-end appliances, white marble countertops, and dark wood cabinets. It’s a far reach from the two-story cottage home my father owns.

I twist the cap off the smoothie and down half of it. Mid-gulp, the contents get stuck in my throat when a woman’s voice meets my ears.

Nope. That’s not a voice. It’s a moan. Actually,moans,to be accurate.

---