Page 54 of Emperor of Corruption
I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t like getting my hands dirty unless absolutely necessary.” My time of giving serious thought to killing Lyra has passed. I see a great deal of myself in that young woman. She’s an overachiever. She’s the smartest person in the ridiculous newspaper she works for, and the most creative. She’s one of the most high-potential individuals I’ve ever met. She deserves to live, and live well.
“The Eyes won’t be happy about this—”
“There is absolutely no reason for them to know about this,” I say darkly, my tone steeped in warning. “She poses no genuine threat, and I’ve ensured that’s how she’ll remain. Now, should you get any bright ideas regarding her, I’d strongly suggest you consider the effect I can have on your life if I become angry.” I pause to let that sink in. “For now, the reporter is mine. I plan on fucking her out of my system and discarding her shortly. She’s no longer your concern, or anyone’s concern.”
“You care about her,” Silas insists. “Admit it.”
“I won’t admit to anything but the truth. And the truth is that I couldn’t possibly give less of a shit about the reporter. I’m interested in her body—she has a golden pussy—and that’s about all. I’ll get bored of her like I always do and toss her aside. And, when I toss her aside, shestillwon’t do anything, because I’ll continue holding the detonator to her life.”
Silas takes a few steps forward. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I have a go at her once you’re done, would you?” he asks offhandedly. My blood begins to simmer at the mere thought. “I mean, she really is a hot piece of ass. And if you say it’s a golden pussy, I believe you. Your standards always were hard to reach.”
He’s testing me. If I show any reaction to the thought of him having a go at her, he’ll know he can leverage her against me.
Which he can’t, of course. She’s completely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. And yet, the idea of Silas’s filthy hands on her makes me want to skewer and roast him over an open flame.
“If you want my sloppy seconds, that’s your prerogative,” I force myself to say, tone bored. “That is, if there’s anything left of her once I’m through.”
Silas folds his arms over his chest. “Fine. I want a copy of that sex tape—”
“Absolutely not.” I’ve rewatched the tape dozens of times since making it, and each time, it brings me to an explosive orgasm. The only thing better than watching myself turning Lyra’s ass red and forcing her to come is doing it in person. I cannotstandthe thought of anyone else seeing her in that state—bound, naked, and vulnerable—least of all Silas. The fucker doesn’t deserve to see her naked. Her body is reserved solely for me.
“If you truly don’t care about her, you wouldn’t have a problem with this,” Silas says, doubling down. “She’s irrelevant, right?Unimportant? Then let me have the leverage I need to keep my mouth closed.”
Fuck. He’s backing me into a corner. If I don’t agree, he’ll assume that I care for her, and use her against me.
“You’re impulsive,” I say flatly. “I don’t trust you not to release the tape just because. I wouldn’t trust you with shining my fucking shoes, Cornell.”
“I’m not impulsive when it comes to my business,” he snaps.
I only credit that statement with a snort of disbelief.
He strides forward. I stand from the couch—he stops in the center of the room. I’m just tall enough to look down at him, and I make full use of my height as I watch him, willing him to feel how much of a nobody he is compared to me.
The Silas Cornells of this world destroyed my youth. I enjoy every chance I can get to make them feel as small as I once felt.
“Either give me the tape or I’ll find my own way to keep her in line.”
A threat on his life hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let it loose. He has me in checkmate. As abhorrent as the idea of his eyes on her naked body is, the idea that he’ll go after her some other way is far more appalling. Giving him what he wants is the lesser evil, and it’ll save me from having to deal with his bullshit assumptions that I care about her.
“If you let it leak, I’ll kill you,” I say tonelessly.
A small smirk tugs at Silas’s lips. He’s pleased with my confession—toopleased. “If you ever break into my apartment again, I’ll have you killed.”
I smile. “Good luck with that.” My smile drops. “The tape will be in your inbox. If you let it loose, you’ll prove that your impulsivity is too much to handle, and I’ll take care of you the way you wanted me to take care of Lyra.”
“I won’t leak it unless I have to. And if it becomes necessary, youbetterbe the one to do it first.”
My next meeting of the evening is late—well after midnight, pushing into the hours of the night when only unsavory characters come together to talk. The person I’m meeting is as unsavory as they come, and works for a man who’s far worse than I could ever aspire to be. Someone who deals with hostile takeovers, and has regular cameos in mafia circles.
I’ve had a connection with one of his foot soldiers for quite some time—Rhys, who’s a jack of all trades. This week, the job I asked of him was insultingly simple and far below his skillset, but I pay well enough to avoid questions.
All six-feet-five of Rhys wait for me on a street corner in Brooklyn, in a neighborhood that few people are brave enough to venture into at night. He has dark hair and dark blue eyes to match his pitch-black soul. If Lyra thinksI’mbad, I hope she’ll never brush elbows with Rhys’s circles of people.
“Killian,” Rhys greets. He’s a few years younger than me, but he has the voice of a five-packs-a-day smoker. “Got what you wanted.” He holds up a black velvet box—the same box I had delivered to Lyra earlier in the week. A necklace I put quite a bit of thought into picking out, one that suits her appearance and personality perfectly.
I take the box from Rhys and hand over an envelope of cash large enough to make most people’s eyes bulge. Rhys tests the weight in his hands and folds it into his jacket pocket.
He watches in silence as I crack open the box and peer at the necklace. It really is a perfect piece for Lyra—elegant yet whimsical. Timeless yet on-market. A mixture of colors and shapes that’s nontraditional, yet would be accepted on the necks of any high-society heiress.
