Page 29 of Emperor of Corruption
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I want to stab my spoon through your eye. Rather than voice my thoughts, I let out a tense, “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I do hope you’re not in too much pain.”
Fucking. Prick. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Killian’s lips rise at the edges. “Are you? I didn’t go easy on you. I think you got the message I was aiming to deliver, however; brattiness doesn’t suit you. I will deal with it accordingly.”
I swallow, any semblance of an appetite I might’ve had disappearing. “I understand.”
“Good. Inflicting extreme pain does nothing for me, unless it’s to destroy my enemies. I would hate for you to become my enemy, Lyra.”
“You yourself informed me that I’m too weak to be your enemy,” I remind him, picking up my spoon in a death grip.
He nods thoughtfully, eating a spoonful of soup. “I suppose that’s true. A nuisance, then. Please, for your own sake, don’t be a nuisance.”
I feel my cheeks heat as I think back to the email exchange with his ex-assistant. Could he know about it already? Did she forward the email exchange to him? Could I be here so he punishes me…killsme?
“I’ll do my best to avoid that.” I watch his expression for any reaction, but he gives little away.
I think if he knew, this evening would’ve transpired very differently. I can’t be certain since I don’t know Killian well, but I believe I’d already be screaming in pain and crying if he thought I’d made a move against him.
“I’m so glad to hear it. And, please, call me Killian. Mr. King is so formal, don’t you think?”
“I think formalities are perfectly appropriate, considering our positions.”
Killian pauses with his spoon halfway to his lips. He gazes at me for several beats. “Are they? I don’t thinkMr. Kingis what I’d like to hear you screaming as you fall apart… but if that’s your preference, then that’s your prerogative.”
My blush spreads down my neck and all the way to my ears. He’s talking about sex. Having sex withme.
“I have not andwillnot consent to any sexual activities between us. I have no desire to sleep with you. My only desire is for you to lose interest in me as quickly as possible and move onto your next victim.”
Killian smiles, and the gesture is terrifying because it’s genuine. “Okay.”
Okay. He leaves it at that—no insistence or explanation. It makes me even more uneasy than I would’ve been if he’d told me he planned on bending me over the table, holding me there, and fucking me while I begged him not to.
My thighs clench at the image my mind conjures, and something terrifying stirs inside me.
It’s not arousal. Itcan’tbe. I’ve recently learned that my brain is fucked up, but it can’t bethatfucked up. I won’t allow it.
The rest of the first course is taken in silence. Midway through the second, though, Killian speaks again. “I’ve had a chance to read through all of your work. From high school to college and beyond.”
My heart stutters. My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. I glance at him, unsure whether I should be flattered or deeply, deeply concerned.
I’m inclined to assume it’s the latter, given everything I know about Killian.
“You’re good,” he allows. “I can see why you won a Pulitzer. But you’re nowhere near as good as you think you are.”
Anger heats the tip of my ears. “Excuse me?” I’mextremelyself-critical over my work. I agonize over every sentence, paragraph, and article. I constantly question the validity of what I do and the value-add I bring to my industry. Right now, I see my success mostly as a product of luck and tenacity.
Killian’s speaking as though I’m an ego-inflated narcissist who’s obsessed with herself, which is total bullshit.
“You shouldn’t have won a Pulitzer,” Killian starts.
I stand up. “I’m not here to listen to you deride my career.”
“Quite right, you’re not. And dinner isn’t finished yet, so you aren’t going anywhere.Sit down.”
The voice he uses is a mixture of potent dominance and unveiled threat. My ass meets the seat before I can think twice, and then I stiffen and withhold a whimper becausefuckthat hurts.
