Page 65 of Emperor of Corruption
“Good. How many words do you have now?”
I glance at the wordcount. “Sixty-five thousand.” I’ve slowed down somewhat, since each round of editing necessitates major changes throughout the entire manuscript. It’s laborious work, but it’s rewarding. A story that I’m proud of is taking shape before my eyes.
“Excellent progress.”
I blink. Why is he praising me? The only praise I’m used to receiving from him is when I act the part of a good little whore and let him use my body in whatever manner he wishes.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you have plans this evening?”
My mind briefly clears of thoughts, and nerves take flight in my belly. It’s rare for Killian to push to see me outside of the scheduled times, mainly because he leads an extremely busy life—which is probably my only saving grace.
Him asking after my plans can’t bode well for me.
“Yes,” I lie.
He pauses. “Now, give me the honest answer.” His tone has darkened, and his words carry with them a threat to comply,or else.
“Yes,” I repeat. “I have a date with a reality T.V. show and wine.”
“So pedestrian.” Previously, when he insulted me, the words were always said with cruelty; now, there’s almost an edge of fondness when he calls me middle-class, poor, or pedestrian. As if I’m an adorable creature he’s cooing at.
“Speaking of being pedestrian, I should probably get back to it. You know how riveting my middle-class life is; I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
He chuckles. “You’ll have to reschedule your date with your T.V. I want to see you.”
I swallow, a rock lodging itself in my throat. “It’s Sunday,” I say quietly. “My Sundays belong to me.”
“Only when I don’t have the time to overtake them. Luckily for you, I have a free night. Come over.”
“Killian.” My eyes flutter shut. “Please don’t make me. I have work tomorrow.”
Even as my words refute his offer, there’s a part of me that almost wants to agree. Killian is an asshole, a bastard, and a man who sees no value in consent, but there’s something undeniablycompellingabout him. He’s interesting. His outlooks on the world are fascinating. His mind is brilliant, and he’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He’s a cruel, possibly soulless, jerk but he’s also an insightfulgenius.
And, had I never met him… I wouldn’t have the manuscript I’m working on, which is quickly becoming my favorite thing I’ve ever written. It’ll never make it past the drafts on my computer, but just knowing I’m capable of writing something like it makes me proud. Maybe one day, after I’ve retired, I’ll take a more serious look at writing books.
“I’m not going to hurt you tonight.” Killian pauses. “I’d like to see you.”
“Do you miss me already?” I quip.
“Yes,” he answers, and the response stuns me into silence.
I part my lips, but can’t think of a response to give him. He misses me…hemissesme?He makes a point to remind me of how far out of my league he is each time he sees me. He’s dismissive of me to the extreme. He seems to get off on telling me that I’m a lowly ant, and he’s doing me a favor by spending time with me.
“I would really prefer to stay at home,” I say quietly. “We’ll see each other on Wednesday.”
“That’s not soon enough.” He sounds frustrated—I’m not sure if he’s frustrated with me or with himself. “I want to see you, Lyra.Soon.”
“Why?” I breathe.
I don’t know why I ask it; his answer will probably be cruel and demeaning, but if it isn’t…
I’m susceptible to praise. Very few times have I been truly desired, and if Killian desires me for more than just sex…
“Because I like you.” The admission sounds like it’s forced out of his lips.
“Why?” I repeat.
