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Stay in line, Lyra. Stay. In. Line.

“Is that a question?”

“A precursor to one. Your business model has cast a lot of exposure on your competitors, making the public realize justhowcorrupt the pharmaceutical industry is.”

“Still no question.”

“If you’ll allow me to continue, I may get to one,” I say sharply, locking gazes with Killian.

An icy shiver skitters up my spine. His smile has evaporated. The hard, sharp panes of his face are set in a blank mask. His green eyes, however… for the first time since I sat down, they’re finally glimmering with an emotion. I can’t pinpoint what it is—curiosity? Disdain?—but it’ssomething, and it unnerves me more than the previous dissociation between Killian’s curved lips and his blank eyes.

“Please,” he says, recovering with a smile. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“Are you ever concerned that your competitors may try to retaliate against you, considering your methods have vastly shifted the market landscape in the six years since you founded Helixon Biopharma?”

Again, Killian takes his time, mulling my question over. Or, at leastpretending to.

“I am aware of the risks,” he says. “It’s why I have a team of personal security.” The latter is said in a humorous, dry tone, but I sense a goldmine beneath it. With anyone else, his quip would land as a joke, but I’ve investigated too many dirty people to take it at face-value.

Something is definitely going on beneath the surface of Killian’s public persona, and I amachingto figure it out. There’s a darkness that necessitates guard dogs who would doubtlessly tear off the heads of Killian’s rivals or enemies.

“Do you worry for your safety?” I ask softly, gazing at him.

Killian’s brows furrow. He blinks slowly, appraising me carefully. “That wasn’t on your list of questions.”

Aha.Hehasread my questions.

“No, but you’ve taken your time thinking each one over as if you didn’t have a pre-prepared response. I figured you wouldn’t mind a small addition so you couldactuallyput all your thinking time to use.”

His jaw clenches as he realizes I’ve caught him in a deception. A surface-level one, but a deception nevertheless. I’ve gotten a glimpse beneath his façade, and now, I want to dig down to his core.

Killian’s smile doesn’t return. Instead, he watches me with a predator’s gaze, that strange emotion still swimming in his eyes. I think it might beinterest, and I am intimately aware that drawing the interestof Killian isn’t the best idea. I’ve dealt with men like him—both in the course of my work life and outside of it— and they always either see me as an easy conquest or an insect they’d find pleasure in crushing.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Killian asks.

The question is a blow to my solar plexus. I expected him to grow irritated, maybe reveal a crack in his annoyingly composed mask, but asking about myplans?

Oh God, he’s not going to ask me on adate, is he?No.No way. He’s so far out of my league it’s comical, and that’s exactly how I prefer it. There’s something far too off-putting about Killian King for me to evenconsiderhim as anything other than an article.

An article I don’t want to write in a positive light without doing some thorough digging.

“I do,” I reply.

He nods. “Cancel them. I have a gala I’m hosting tonight—I’d like you to attend as an honored guest.”

What.

The.

Fuck?

What is he playing at? I go to a gala, I won’t be able to hold myself back from digging… surely Killian must suspect that. Or, maybe he thinks I’m a perfectly-trained puppet who dances on my boss’s strings, following her every order.

That’s not how I won a Pulitzer.

Still, it doesn’t take a genius to know that digging here might just not be a bad idea; it could be a deadly one. Messing with CEOs never ends well for lowly journalists.

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to cancel my plans on such short notice, but I’m honored by the invite,” I say politely.