Page 30 of Emperor of Corruption
Killian’s lips tip up at the edges as he observes me, reaching for his wineglass. After he’s taken a gulp, he sets it down again. “You shouldn’t have won a Pulitzer for multiple reasons. Not because the article wasn’t good enough—several of yours are more than enough to meet that award’s meager standards—but because you’re too young, and you’re capable of much better than what you’re putting out. I suspect you merely require the correct guidance and inspiration.”
My instinct is to rail against his statements, call him an asshole, and walk out of here, uncaring over if that earns me more pain. Instead of acting on my angry impulses, however, I fix my gaze on my plate and stew. At first, replaying his words in my mind just pisses me off and ruins even the delightful aromaticscentof food in front of me, but then, I try to give his opinion the same weight I’d lend a critic whom I respect.
After a few moments, I have to grudgingly admit he’s right. I won the prize last year, and whenever I reread the piece that got me there,all I feel is a vague sense of frustration because I could’ve made it so much better. If I redid it today, it’d be far superior. If I redo it next year or five years from now, all the more so.
“Are you going to pretend as though my experiences with you will elevate my career?” The words come out in something of a sneer. “Is that the game you’re playing?”
“No. The game I’m playing will end up with you in my bed, screaming my name until you’re too incoherent to do so. That’s theonlygame. As for my comments on your work, it’s no game… but surely you must be aware that my professional guidance could work wonders for your career.”
Prick. “Remind me, from which university did you earn your journalism degree?”
His smile is all teeth, no humor. “Nowhere. I did, however, attend Harvard business school. I’ve interned and worked with the top industry professionals and leaders in the world. I know how to build people up professionally and personally—and that is not a service I often offer.”
“And it’s a service you’d offer me?”
“If I were so inclined. You could convince me much faster if you give up your ridiculous resistance, accept what I give you, and take what you can from me. The next eight weeks could determine the course of your career and change your life for the better.”
“At the low cost of giving my body freely to a fucking sociopath who has no respect for consent or the lack of desire in others.”
He doesn’t seem offended whatsoever. “I’m not a sociopath; I just have a limited emotional range and prefer to be in control.” He pauses when I snort. “I don’t think you understand the unprecedented opportunities you’ll be offered. If you checked your itinerary for our work together, you’ll have seen multiple events that will play hostto the top professionals. Not just in journalism and news, but in publishing as a whole.” He cocks his head to the side. “You have good prose and the seeds of talent. Have you ever considered writing a book rather than an article?”
Yes. It’s a dream I had as a child, but the opportunity never presented itself.
“This conversation is moot. I’m not going to betray myself just for the betterment of my career.”
“Then you’re either stupid or you have more pride than sense.”
“Fine. Then I’ll be a person who doesn’t fuck their way to the top,andI’ll be able to sleep at night. How sad for me.”
“Itissad for you. I’m going to fuck you, Lyra, very soon. I’m going to fuck you more than once. I will not go easy on you. You could either reap the benefits of that or flounder in misery. It honestly makes no difference to me.”
Frustration mounts into anger, which boils over into rage. “I don’t want to sleep with you!”I shout, losing my temper.
Killian flicks a dismissive glance over me. “Yes, you do. Whether or not you’ll admit it and consent to it is a different matter entirely.”
“Urgh.” I’m panting with anger, a few moments away from stomping out of here—only I doubt the elevator will take me back down to the ground floor without Killian’s permission.Again,he’s trapped me.Again, I’m helpless and furious. So much so that tears start to sting my eyes.
I push my plate away. “I’m done. I’d like to leave.”
“No. We have three courses to go.”
“And I can leave after that?”
“If you still wish to.”
That seemsfartoo easy for a man like Killian. He went through a lot of effort to get me here, and he’ll simply let me go once we’ve eaten? No vicious whipping, no forcing me to have sex, just…nothing?
My appetite is so far gone that I can only take a bite of the next two courses and a small sip of wine. When the dessert coursefinallycomes around, I eat a couple bites, mainly because the crème brûlée is perfectly paired with the sweet, slightly fizzly wine. I finish the glass, and nearly finish the dessert.
“Have a sweet tooth?” Killian questions mildly.
I think I might’ve drank the wine a bit fast on a nearly-empty stomach, because the sound of his voice is unusually pleasant. “Does it matter?”
“Of course. I always take my guest’s preferences into account when planning dinners.”
“Well, then, yes.”
Wait—hold on. Why did I say that? I have no intention ofwillinglybeing Killian’s repeat guest. I don’t want to be here.
