Page 66 of Emperor of Corruption
God, what am I doing? I should hang up the phone and tell him I’m not interested. I should say that I have absolutely no desire to spend additional time with him.
And Idon’thave any desire to spend time with Asshole Killian. But I’ve seen the occasional glimpse of Soft Killian, and that man is something profoundly intriguing.
“Because you’re smart.” It sounds like he says the words through gritted teeth. “Trulysmart, I mean. A critical thinker to your core. You have a curious mind and enough intelligence to fill up all the world’s oceans. You’re talented—the book you’re writing is fucking incredible.”
“You spend much more time critiquing my book than praising it,” I murmur.
“That’s because I know it can be better. I knowyoucan do better, but that doesn’t mean the initial product is bad.” I hear him swallow. “You’re gorgeous. You’re intriguing. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My breath catches in my throat.I can’t stop thinking about you, either. I don’t say it out loud; the words should never be spoken, but I certainlythinkthem.
The reasons we think about each other are vastly different, however. I think of Killian with a whole lot of fear and a little bit of intrigue and admiration. He frightens me, but parts of him also draw me.
When I don’t say anything, he speaks again. “If you won’t come over, then tell me something about yourself.”
I swallow. “Like what?”
“Fuck knows. Something.”
My lips thin. “You don’tactuallywant to know anything about me. You only want more things to use againstme—”
“False. I already have everything I need to use against you.” I wince, and he pauses. “But I don’t think it’ll come to that. So, tell me something.”
I try to think for a moment. “I had a cat when I was young.”
“Oh?”
I swallow. “Yeah. An adorable tabby. He was actually my s—” I cut myself off. “Um… he was really cute. Gorgeous, really. He was also incredibly clever. He’d walk me to school every day, from the time I got him to when he passed.”
“How old were you when you got him?”
“Too young to remember. He was always around.”
“What was his name?”
“Mr. Fuzzy.”
Killian releases a deep chuckle, and my cheeks heat. “Don’t judge me. I was a child.”
“Okay, no judgement.” He sobers. “How long did you have him?”
“Until I was eight.” My eighth year in this world was filled with more loss than what any child shouldeverhave to endure. The passing of my parents happened when I was too young to remember, but everything I lost when I was eight… that just felt like a cruel trick of fate.
“What happened?”
“He was hit by a car.” I remember finding him wheezing, barely breathing in the road. His legs were mangled, his jaw was dislocated… I stayed next to him until he died—it broke my heart in every way a heart can be broken. And that was the least bad thing to happen to me that year.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I scoff. “No, you’re not.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say.
“I had a dog. He was my birthday present when I was seven, but my family couldn’t even afford to keep him for even a year. He was a mutt, and an ugly fucker, but complete sweetheart. I’d sleep with him beside me every night. I was devastated when we had to give him back to the shelter.”
“I’m sorry,” I echo. “Losing a pet is the worst.”
