Page 64 of Emperor of Corruption
Some of the tension eases from my shoulders. If it were Lyra, Carter would tell me and let me take care of her myself—and I’d have a much harder time protecting her than I did with John. Lyra may thinkI’mbad, but Carter is a whole different level of cruelty. He’s an admitted sociopath, and doesn’t bother wearing a mask to fool people or put the world at ease; he’s comfortable with people knowing he’s fucked up.
I, on the other hand, much prefer to hide my darkness behind insincere smiles.
“Anything you need from me?”
“Nope. Just wanted to keep you informed.”
“I appreciate it.”
Carter stays exactly where he is, not moving an inch. I arch an eyebrow at him. “Is there something else?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” He leans forward. “Your little writer has a friend. A very beautiful friend. I’m here to ask if she’s under your protection.”
I think for a moment, mentally sifting through all the information I’ve gathered on Lyra’s life. “Annalise?” I query.
Carter shrugs. “Don’t know her name. Blonde, stunning, looks like she belongs on a lingerie runway rather than jammed in a shitty cubicle. She free game?”
It’s definitely Annalise. “Only person I’m interested in keeping off the market, fornow, is Lyra. You can have whoever else you want.”
“Oh?” Carter questions. “And if I said that I wanted your reporter once you were done with her, how would you respond to that?”
It takes all of my composure to keep from tensing. Or launching across the table and beating Carter to a bloody pulp. “I’d say have fun. As soon as I’m done with her, she’s no longer my concern.”
I don’t want to be done with her. I have five more weeks with Lyra, and the time is trickling byfartoo fast. I don’t see her enough, and every minute I spend with her makes me look forward to the next—even when she’s being bitchy and deliberately trying to piss me off.
Fuck her out of your system, King, and move on.
“Good to know. Maybe the ladies will be up for a threesome.”
I shrug. “Just try not to break them—they’re fairly well protected.” The Empire Journal staff are high-enough profile to be inconvenient to kill or dispose of, though it’s not impossible. Simply undesirable.
“Very well.” Carter stands up, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulders. “I’d suggest trying to clean up the scents of sex from in here. It’s truly cloying.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lyra
It’s late on a Sunday evening when I get a call from Killian. I’m camped out on my couch with both of my phones and laptops, piecing together a timeline of his misdeeds, and linking him to as many high-profile individuals as possible. If I want to blackmail him into deleting or never using the tape andleaving me alone, I need to have enough dirt to threaten his empire.
It’s proving even harder than I expected it to be—and I didn’t anticipate this being an easy task. So far, I can nail him on several financial inconsistencies, and probably get him in trouble with the IRS—but for all I know he’ll receive a presidential fucking pardon and get out of it. I need something concrete, and something that would destroy his image if it ever got out.
I let his call go to voicemail. I’m not obligated to see him outside of Wednesday and Saturday interviews, and I only have a month left to pull together a strong enough exposé with the power to bury him. All of my free time that isn’t dedicated to the novel he’s having me write is spent on the article that could save my life and livelihood.
My phone lights up a second time. Something niggles at my gut, and my ass—still sore from the vicious spanking he gave me last night—starts to burn again. I’ve gotten so used to the pain that it fades into the background, but I don’t want to give him a reason to hurt me any more than he already has.
Ignoring his call once could be forgiven—I could say I was in the shower. Twice would merit a punishment.
I pick up the call but don’t say anything. A few seconds of silence stretch out.
“Lyra,” Killian says silkily.
“Yes?” I reply, my chest twisting with unease. A cold call from Killian can’t possibly mean good things for me.
He pauses for a few beats. “How are the edits coming?”
I toggle the mouse on my personal laptop. Killian’s been sending me in-depth edits on my novel for each batch of pages I give him. I’m not sure where he finds the time to go through hundreds of pages and demand alterations, but he does—or maybe he passes it off to one of his underlings. Who knows.
“They’re done,” I say uneasily. Is he looking for a reason to punish me? Is that why he’s asking about them?
