Page 3 of Emperor of Corruption
Killian’s lips curve into something approximating a smile, and this time, itdoesreach his eyes… but they don’t shine with mirth. No, there’s something ugly buried in those green depths.
“Well, I’m ending this interview now. If you’d like to finish it and have enough content for the article you’ve been hired to write, you’ll join me tonight.”
My fingers curl into a fist. He’s trying to corner me,forceme into doing something I don’t want to do. That coercion right there—I think I’m getting a glimpse of therealKillian King.
He’s not the philanthropic, reasonable angel he appears to be. And he’sdeliberatelyoffering me a glimpse beneath the veil… which means I’m in danger.
He has a security team to protect himself from any threats. What the hell do I have to protect myself from someone like this?
My options are to argue and anger him… or just give in and get what I can out of tonight. I try to console myself with the idea that I might get to snoop around and perhaps find damning information on Killian King—something that I can bring to my boss along with a request to turn the article on Killian into anexpose. Maybe I’ll even win another award.
Even as I have the thought, I understand the likelihood of that is low. I’d have to find somethinggood. And I’d put myself at great risk while doing so.
I swallow. “You honor me with your request—”
“I don’t make requests. I give orders.” The mask is really coming down now. Something about me is triggering Killian. He stands and smooths down his tie. “I’ll see you tonight, Lyra. My secretary will send over details. It’s a black-tie event, so dress appropriately.”
The wooden door of his office opens. Killian’s guard dog, a bulky, horrifically large man fills up the entire doorway. Does Killian havesome sort of mind-control over his staff? The guard showed up at exactly the right moment, twenty minutes before the interview should’ve been up, without being called.
I carefully stand from my seat, feeling more shaken than I have by an interview in alongtime. The power imbalance between Killian and me is frighteningly clear, and my only option is to get through tonight. I’ll get the answers I need from him… and if the opportunity presents itself, dig around—butonlyif it seems safe. Which it probably won’t.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I respond affably.
Killian smiles, and the sight is soul-chilling. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter Two
I’m still shaky when I get back to my workplace after a train ride, but the familiar comfort of Empire Journal offers me some sense of calm.
Although the Empire Journal is considered a boutique newspaper, specializing in digital articles, we still have impressive and well-funded headquarters. There are several prize winners on our staff, and all of our editors areverywell known and fantastic at their jobs. The company isn’t perfect, but the salary’s good enough to sustain my life in an overpriced metropolitan city, I’m treated well by the staff and my bosses, and I enjoy the chaotic calm of our headquarters.
Our offices live thirty floors above the New York City streets, nestled right in the center of the corporate district. The floor plan is open; low cubicles sit in ordered rows, each equipped with computer screens casting a soft blue light over mugs, notebooks, and employees. Keyboards clack, phones vibrate, and the scents of coffee and fresh paper swirl through the air.
Junior and Senior Staff Writers, along with Editors, all have offices that hug the perimeter of the cubicles. Framed front pages hang along walls like medals, and awards glint in the kind of fluorescent light that flatters absolutely no one.
The headquarters themselves are a study in organized chaos, butmyoffice is my safe haven, a place away from the insanity of the cubicles—a corner office I workedextremelyhard to earn.
A wall of glass shows the city streets and avenues braided below. The desk faces the door, with twin monitors sitting atop it. A gray couch sits along the side wall, with bookshelves opposite it. A lush carpet prevents any stability for high heels, so I kick mine off at the door, and pad over to my desk.
My eyes skim along a row of framed front pages on the wall between the couch and bookshelf, first-edition newspapers I had to pay a pretty penny to get. There’s a frame for the moon landing, another for marriage equality, a war report that changed government policies, and my first front-page byline. On my bookshelf, court transcripts and white-collar case studies share space with poetry books and dog-eared FOIA guides bristling with tabs.
I barely have time to set down my bag before my direct supervisor and Empire Journal’s Deputy Editor raps her knuckles on my wooden office door and slips inside. Sarah Brown is in her forties, poised, elegant, and an absolute shark in the newsroom. I respect and admire her—she’s half the reason I took a job here. She’s not afriend, but she is a mentor figure of sorts. She can also be very tetchy when people disobey her or push back, so I do my best to stay on her good side.
“I heard from King’s secretary,” she says, running her manicured fingers through her bright blonde hair. Her sharp, dark blue eyes rake over me, searching for something. “King wants you at his gala tonight.” An approving smile splits her lips while my stomach sinks.
Killian didn’t send the gala details tome,he sent them to myboss, which all but corners me into attending. He’s giving more and more credence to my belief that something isn’t quite right with him. He’s not who he wants the public to believe… and I want to prove it, even though I don’t know if I’ll be able to. Not when I’m meant to write apositivearticle on him, andcertainlynot when my gut tells me there’s something profoundly wrong with him.
“Good work,” Sarah says. “Enjoy the gala, but don’t forget, you’re working. I want the article on my desk by Monday.”
Monday.It’s Wednesday, so that gives me two workdays and the weekend to complete an article. If I stay in my lane and take Killian at face-value, that should be easy… but I don’t know if I can do that.
I’llhaveto do it, though.
“You got it.” I try to keep the concern from my tone.
Sarah lingers in the doorway, telling me that she has more to say. Curiosity sparkles in her eyes, so I anticipate her next question before it comes.
“What’s he like?” she asks. “In person, I mean. There’s so much media on him, but few people have gotten to sit in a room with him.”
