Page 73 of Emperor of Corruption
“No one—”
He loses another finger, and evenmorescreaming ensues. If I didn’t need him to talk, I’d cut his fucking vocal chords. “Who?” I demand, fisting his hair and yanking his head back.
“I don’t know! A guy stopped me and Ron on the street and offered us cash! Showed us a picture of the bitch, told us to make it look like a robbery and rough her up—” he cuts off when my fist drives into his abdomen. Two times in fast succession, justice for Lyra. Her creamy skin was a canvas of darkness, which means either this fuck or his friendpunchedher. I’mpleasedto return the favor.
I want to snap his neck right now, but he deserves to suffer. I just can’t trust myself not to kill him too quickly.
“See if you can get a name from him,” I tell Locke. “And make it last.”
I leave the room to the sound of Floyd’s pathetic pleas drowning out under the weight of his shrill screams.
I drive myself home, trusting that Locke will find his way back. My apartment complex is crawling with my security team, which means that Lyra’s safe for the time being. I’m used to having a minimum of three men with me wherever I go, with nights like tonight being the exception—the less witnesses, the better.
Until I find out who sent muggers after Lyra andwhy, I’ll have to up the security around her. It shouldn’t take longer than our arrangement lasts. And even if it does, I’ll still protect her. She deserves that much, at least. I won’t keep her, but I can look after her.
When I get to my apartment, my first move is to check on Lyra in the bedroom. I wasn’t exactly kind to her before leaving, but I’ve never pretended to be a nice person. I’m an asshole, plain and simple, and being an asshole has amassed mebillions.
Except, Lyra isn’t in my bedroom—she’s in myliving room. Sleeping soundly on the couch. Her shoes are neatly laid out next to her, like she was planning on going home. I imagine she tried, before realizing the elevator doesn’t open without my go-ahead.
She doesn’t even want my amenities after being beaten, mugged, and nearly raped. This is a woman who truly has no use for me and no need of me.
It only makes me want to trap her more.
I walk up to her, intending to carry her ass to my bedroom, but pause. My hands are covered in blood—I’mcovered in blood. I need to get a cleaning crew on my BMW, and I need to wash away the evidence of what I did tonight.
I take the fastest shower in the history of mankind, scrubbing my skin raw, then return to my living room. Lyra’s still on the couch, still sleeping quietly, looking very young and vulnerable. Most of the time, it’s easy to forget she’s so much younger than me, because she’s more mature than most of the people I work with.
But sheisyoung. Too young for me. Toopoorfor me.
Too good for me.
I cut off the thought before it can take root, scoop her into my arms, and carry her to the bedroom. She only stirs when her back hits the mattress. She blinks her eyes open, gazing at me sleepily. I tuck a few stray strands of damp hair behind her ear.
“I want to go home,” she murmurs.
You are ho—
No. I won’teven let myself think it.
“Get some sleep,” I tell her quietly. “I have things to handle. You can go home in the morning.”
She closes her eyes with a sigh of dejection, and falls straight back to sleep like the good girl she can be.
I don’t sleep. Usually, this is the time of night when I’d head to my office and start working through all the bullshit I didn’t have time to do today, but tonight’s different. Tonight, I have Lyra in my bed, and the mere thought of abandoning her is repulsive.
She clung to me and cried. She leaned onme.Me, the man who’s done things to her so terrible it’s a wonder she doesn’t panic every time we’re in a room together.
Maybe it’s because she likes those terrible things more than she’s willing to let on…
I spend an inordinate amount of time staring at a woman who’s younger, brighter, and ultimately, smarter than me as she slumbers. It’s close to three in the morning when I finally manage to drag my ass away from her, and even then, it’s to make a few calls to ensure my security team’s up to date on what needs to be done, and to check if Locke managed to get a name out of Floyd.
Unfortunately, he didn’t. He did, however, skin the piece of shit alive. He got to Floyd’s neck before the prick’s heart finally gave out.
I head to my office, but instead of firing up my PC’s, I grab my laptop and take it back to my bed.
There are a few facts that strike me when I see Lyra still there, in my bed. A deep satisfaction takes hold of me.
Lyra looks like she was born to sleep in my bed.
