Empire of Lies and Flames (Ruins of Power #1)

Chapter 1

RENéE

Hating Javier was easy, almost natural, instinctual. If hate alone could kill, he’d already be buried six feet under— it should’ve been satisfying—but now, facing him on the screen, my anger tasted bitter, as if it had lost its edge, and somehow, it felt like hate wasn’t enough anymore.

“You can’t do this!” My voice reverberated off the screen with a venom I didn’t bother masking. My gaze drilled into Javier. If only I could force my fury through the pixels and slam it directly into his smug, insufferable face. “I’ve already promised the clients the launch date!”

Javier leaned back in his chair; his stupid gray eyes glinted with a hint of amusement—and a spark of arrogance that I came to hate. “If you were truly concerned about those clients, Renée,” he replied calmly, “perhaps you’d have created something that didn’t invite this level of legal risk.”

My fists clenched under the table. I wanted to say things that would hurt my professional life, badly. Instead, I bit down hard, teeth gritted and slammed my laptop shut. It took all my self-control to stay professional—but God, how tempting it was to let it slip. But one wrong word, and he’d use it against me—I couldn’t give him that opportunity.

I stormed across the hall, nearly knocking over a potted plant, and shoved Elise’s office door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“If I see him in person, I swear to God, I will break his face. Who the hell does he think he is?”

Elise barely looked up from her iced coffee, unfazed. “That’s the hundredth time you’ve said that, Renée. But please, go on. I know you really mean it this time.”

“Oh, I do.” My heels clicked furiously against the floor as I paced, my pulse hammering in my ears. “I’d happily face the consequences of assault if it meant never having to see Javier Densmore’s smug face again.”

Everyone knew how much I despised him. It wasn’t just rivalry—it was war. He had turned my dream job into a battlefield, stolen commissions, undermined my work at every opportunity, and conveniently ‘forgotten’ to loop me in on major projects. But this? This was unforgivable.

“He’s jeopardizing the biggest launch of my career, Elise. Jenna’s merch line was supposed to be mine—my project. Months of planning, and coordinating with the design and production teams, gone. Just like that. All because of one decision he made from his goddamn high-rise office without a second thought.” I exhaled sharply, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “He signed off on this weeks ago. And now Jenna’s questioning my professionalism because of him. And, of course, I’m the one left picking up the pieces. Not him. Never him.”

Elise shook her head, laughing under her breath. “He gets back Monday, right?”

Three months. Three blissful months of him being in and out of the office, never long enough for me to have to deal with him directly. But that was over now.

I shrugged, voice cold. “This time, I’ll be ready and waiting.” The anger simmered low in my chest. “And when he walks through that door, he’s done. I’m done holding back.”

Elise smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll have my phone ready. This one deserves to be recorded.”

I slumped into the chair across from her, breathing hard, as if I’d just sprinted across the office. Javier exhausted me, even when he wasn’t in the room. His existence alone was enough to make me want to scream.

Elise tapped her fingers against her chin. “You know… there are less violent ways to handle this. Maybe throw a drink in his face? Let karma work its magic?”

I snorted. “A drink? I want to break his bones.”

I could already picture it—the moment he waltzed back into the office, completely unbothered, pretending like he hadn’t just erased months of my work with a single decision. He’d be so casual, so unbearably smug like he knew exactly what he was doing. And I’d be waiting. Fists clenched, words locked and loaded, ready to tear him apart. No professionalism. No pretense. Just truth sharpened to a blade.

But Elise’s smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened.

“You ever notice,” she said, her voice light, “that he’s the only one who gets under your skin like this?”

I shot her a warning glare. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying… the intensity, the way he gets to you—it’s almost too much hate. No one else riles you up like this.”

I shot to my feet. “Stop. Right. There.” My voice was low. “This isn’t some twisted enemies-to-lovers story. I hate him. End of discussion.”

I spun on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind me with more force than I intended.

But Elise’s words stuck. They shouldn’t have. They were ridiculous. Infuriating. And yet, no matter how hard I tried to shove them aside, my mind turned against me—looping images of him, his irritatingly calm expression, that sharp glint in his eye, like he knew exactly how to push me to the edge.

Because he did know.

And that only made me hate him more.

I leaned against my desk, trying to shake off the frustration, but the truth was clawing at my chest. Hate wasn’t enough anymore. And that thought? It terrified me.

Just as I let out a deep breath, my eyes fell on the bouquet sitting on my desk. Today's flower: white lilies. A soft smile crept across my face, easing the tension on my shoulders. The flowers were a constant—my one steady thing in the middle of all this chaos.

Whoever it was, they never missed a day. The day the flowers started withering, new flowers would arrive to replace them. On workdays, they showed up at my office. And on weekends, they were delivered to my door. Different flowers every single time, and today it was lilies.

Standing by the edge of my bed, I stared at the clothes scattered across the room. The steady hum of city traffic outside my window hinted at another busy day in New York, but my mind was elsewhere, already bracing for the confrontation waiting for me at work.

“Renée, parcel for you!” Pearl’s voice rang from the kitchen just as I got dressed. My roommate and closest friend since I landed in the U.S. seven years ago, Pearl has been my anchor in this foreign country.

I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the room. Our apartment, though small, was the closest thing to home. The chipped wooden table by the window was already set with breakfast. Pearl, sipping her coffee, looked up as I hurried in.

“I’m serious, how haven’t they fired you yet? You’re always late!” she teased, glancing pointedly at the clock on the wall, reminding me that I should’ve been out the door ten minutes ago.

Rolling my eyes, I took the box from her. “Please, I’m always on time… in spirit,” I said, tearing into the packaging. But my excitement vanished when I pulled out the contents—a lacy set of black lingerie. Definitely not what I ordered.

“What the hell?” I muttered, holding up the skimpy material like it was toxic. “I ordered a damn blouse, not this!”

Pearl burst out laughing. “It’s cute! Maybe they’re trying to tell you something.”

“Yeah, that I’m about to burn this company to the ground.” I shoved the lingerie back into the box and tossed it in my bag. “Someone’s getting an earful today.”

“Are you going to be back tonight, or should I expect a call to bail you out?” she smirked. Of course, she knew Javier Densmore would be in the office today. I may or may not have spent the entire week ranting about how I wanted to obliterate him.

“Relax, I didn’t kill him last time I saw him,” I shot back.

“That’s because he wasn’t in the office last time.”

A groan escaped me. Javier Densmore. Just thinking about him made my teeth grind. “I never said I’d kill him. Just… maybe break his nose. Accidentally. With my fist”

Pearl shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dating a guy who wears a bow tie to bed,” I quipped.

Pearl shook her head, sighing. “Touché. Have fun at work, psycho.”

Grabbing a piece of toast on my way out, I called over my shoulder, “I’ll bring back pizza!”

“You better! ” she yelled after me.

The walk to work was as familiar as the back of my hand: the scent of coffee, the occasional tune from street musicians, the towering buildings that never lost their luster. Even after seven years, New York’s energy still amazed me. Everything moved so fast, yet there was beauty in the rush.

It was hard not to think of how far I’d come—from Belgium, running from a past I’d rather forget, to now working full-time at Inkwell & Co. a design and printing company. Sure, it wasn’t my dream job. Let’s be real, job is no one’s dream but it was something steady, something that helped me build a life away from my complicated family history. And I had started liking working there.

By the time I reached the office, I was a solid thirty minutes late. I crept in, praying no one noticed. Thankfully, my boss was out, and everyone else was knee-deep in their morning routines. Just as I sat at my desk, my phone rang, shattering any hope of a quiet start. I braced myself as Celia, a nightmare of a client, started in on me.

“How do I know you won’t screw up the design again? I swear to God, I’ll sue if you mess this up!”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I rubbed my temples. “Ms. Devour, I assure you, the design will be exactly as we discussed. You’re welcome to oversee production if that helps ease your concerns.”

“Ease my concerns? You already messed up once!”

I held back a groan. “We’ve addressed the issue, and I sent you the final design mock-ups. If you have any questions, please let us know before production.”

Celia’s complaints went on for another ten minutes before I finally hung up. With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. And, disturbingly enough, she was the least of my worries today.

Just as I was about to dive into my work, Elise’s head popped into my office. “Hey, look who’s back,” she said, amusement lighting her eyes.

My heart sank as I followed her gaze. Javier Densmore had strolled in, greeting everyone with that annoyingly charismatic smile of his. His caramel complexion seemed to glow under the office lights, and his dark hair, perfectly styled, framed those stupidly striking gray eyes. And with rolled up his sleeves to reveal toned forearms, he looked like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover.

Of course, he had to look like that. Of course.

My jaw clenched. “Great. Just what I needed today.”

Elise nudged me. “You think he got bigger? Those arms are definitely bigger.”

I shot her a look. “Why are you checking him out?”

She shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying—the man’s eye candy.”

“He’s an arrogant pain in the ass.”

“And?”

I shook my head, flipping through my files, doing my best to ignore his presence. But the universe clearly had other plans.

“Good morning, Renée,” Javier’s voice drawled into the office.

I forced the most strained smile I could muster. “Morning,” I replied flatly.

He leaned against the doorframe, his biceps flexing against the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll be joining your meeting with acquisitions later. I heard you needed someone with legal insight on the team.”

“Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth.

With a grin that was all smugness and no humility, he replied, “See you in the conference room.” Then he walked off.

Elise said. “You didn’t punch him. I’m impressed.”

“I thought about it,” I admitted. “But broad daylight isn’t the right time.”

“Right. But did you see those biceps? Uff!” Elise bit her lip, and though I wasn’t checking him out—obviously—it was hard not to notice the change.

Not that I cared. I was just being vigilant. You know, keeping an eye on the enemy.

Javier might have half the office wrapped around his finger with those dimples and charm, but I wasn’t falling for it. He could strut around all he wanted—I was here to work. Between annoying clients, piles of paperwork, and Javier’s insufferable presence, I had enough on my plate to get through the week.

But surviving Javier Densmore? That was practically a skill I’d mastered by now.

Rose poked her head into my office looking a bit annoyed. “Wane’s looking for you.”

I groaned, already feeling the headache forming. “Of course, he is,” I muttered.

Standing up I turned to Elise, who was scrolling through something on her phone, I gestured toward my screen. “Can you finish this email for me?”

She gave me a mock salute. “You got it, boss.”

The meeting was already dragging. The client’s tirade about the hoodie’s “atrocious” color felt like an hour-long monologue, and my brain had officially checked out somewhere between lackluster hues and misaligned brand image.

I tried to focus, but the heat of Javier’s presence across the table kept tugging at my attention. He didn’t even need to be here— legally, this wasn’t his territory. Yet there he sat, leaning back in his chair with that maddening smirk and eyes that screamed I live to make your life harder.

It was the way he’d watch me, like he was already five steps ahead in a game I didn’t know I was playing. It made my skin itch, but not in a way I wanted to admit.

Finally, mercifully, the meeting wrapped. I stood to gather my notes, relieved this was over. And I was heading out as the room emptied.

“Hey, Renée,” Javier called out. “I think you dropped something.”

I frowned, turning to him. He held up a flimsy, black piece of lace. My stomach dropped. No.

No, no, no.

“That wouldn’t happen to be yours, would it?” he asked, tilting his head, the picture of fake innocence.

My bag must’ve tipped over during the meeting, and somehow that had to fall out. But of all people, did it really have to be Javier who found it? And did he really shove it on my face like that!

Heat flooded my face as I grabbed the bra from his hand, probably faster than was humanly dignified. “Thanks,” I muttered, shoving it back into my bag and avoiding eye contact with him.

Javier, of course, wasn’t done. “Interesting choice,” he mused, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “Black lace? Bold, Renée.”

I gritted my teeth, cursing myself for giving him this ammunition. “Shut up, Mr. Densmore,” I hissed.

But instead of laughing or making another jab, his smirk softened as he leaned in slightly, “Relax. I’m just saying... you’ve got good taste.”

Before I could recover enough to say something, He turned to leave. But not before throwing over his shoulder, “You should be more careful. Things like that can end up in the wrong hands.”

I stared after him, torn between wanting to scream and wanting the ground to swallow me whole.