Page 36 of Emperor of Corruption
My chest tightens, but I keep my expression blank. “Of course.”
Crow gazes at me for a few moments before nodding, satisfied.
A banker—Bull—clears his throat. “Europe is sniffing around price-fixing—insulin, cardiac drugs. You’ll feel it in the European branches of Helixon.”
“The EU commissioner will read the lines I gave him at the press announcement,” I say. “Our Brussels lobbyist wrote the draft. It won’t be a problem.”
“And if it becomes a problem?”
“Then I’ll cut the budget line behind applicable task forces through our friends on the relevant committees.”
I’m not worried about artificial price inflation—certainly not when it goes up against Helixon Biopharma’s open-book policies. Any price fixing will backfire on whoever tries to do it.
Next, a politician high up in DC—Consul—speaks, and finally, a telecommunications news mogul takes the floor.
Three hours later, all the votes and matters are settled. The meeting adjourns.
And I understand with stark clarity that, if I want Lyra to stay alive, I need to ensure that she doesn’t dig too far… else I’ll be fucking a corpse.
Necrophilia has never been on my roster of kinks.
Chapter Fourteen
Lyra
Imanage to work remotely the day after my ordeal with Killian. My head’s far too fucked up to go into the office.
Killian drugged me. He fuckingdrugged me, and I’d have almost preferred he used a date-rape drug so I could hide behind not wanting his touch. If I’d been too drugged to even ask him to stop, I might be able to live with myself…
But I begged him to keep going. I begged him to keep going,andI rode his face like it owed me money,andI took his cock until I actually passed out. Even the memories of the evening create an ache in my core.
I don’t know who I’m more repulsed by; Killian, or myself. In either case, I’m disgusted. If there was a drug I could take to make me forget that night, I’d empty my bank account for it.
What’s worse is that Iagreedto do it again. I recall managing to bargain down to consenting only once, which means thatun-consensualencounters are the standard I need to mentally prepare myself for. The harsh, painful truth is that Killian King can do whatever he wants to me without repercussions. I can’t tell anyone. I’m not powerful or knowledgeable enough to make any moves against him…yet. I hope to change that after meeting with his ex-secretary on Friday.
On Wednesday, I force myself to go into work. I know there are dark circles under my eyes, and I look exhausted in more ways than one. I don’t even have it in me to put on makeup, because I know I’ll be seeing Killian tonight, and I have no desire to prepare for him.
When I get to my office, I stop cold at the sight that greets me, my heart speeding.
There’s a bouquet of flowers on my desk—anenormousbouquet of red roses, with at least 100 flowers neatly tucked into a huge round vase. It’s accompanied by a black velvet box.
Bile rises in my esophagus. My thoughts stutter to a halt. This display could only be set up by Killian, but I know damn well it’s not a gift. It’s ataunt. It’s a cruel play on what a genuine courtship with a very wealthy man might look like, but it’s not sincere. It’s simply Killian playing games and trying to fuck with my head.
I need to get this shit out of my office before someone else sees.
I stride inside, shut the door behind me, and hurry over to the desk. Beneath the velvet box is a handwritten note—my fingers tremble as I lift it up to read it.
Lyra,
I enjoyed your company immensely on Monday night. Your nectar was the sweetest I’d ever tasted, and your tears the prettiest a woman has ever cried for me.
To my great disappointment, an urgent matter has taken me out of the city for the day. We’ll need to reschedule our planned interview. I’m regrettably busy most of the week, but we’ll meet again on Saturday.
I’ll be thinking of your taste, scent, and feel until I see you once more.
K. K.
I tear the note in half, then keep tearing it until it’s nothing more than miniscule pieces of paper, which I promptly dispose of in the trashcan. I stare at the velvet box, watching it like I’d watch a serpentpreparing to envenomate me. I should toss it out immediately, but some sort of deranged curiosity prompts me to pick it up.
