Page 80 of Emperor of Corruption
I don’t know why I expected anything different. Killian seldom considers consulting me a necessity; he treats asking my permission and consent like a favor he’s doing me rather than common courtesy.
“Yes. Pack your shit and be ready to go next Saturday. We’ll still be seeing each other in the scheduled time between now and then. Locke will pick you up.”
“I haven’t agreed to this,” I protest.
“I haven’t asked for your agreement. I’m issuing a command.” He hangs up before I can argue, marking the end of our conversation.
I go to my bedroom, grab my second laptop, and take it to the couch. I open it and navigate to the document holding the expose on Killian. It’s about three thousand words—enough to get the message across, but not overdone.
What’s worse is it’s incomplete. I need more on him. I have an evidence trail proving that he staged a hostile takeover of John’s company, but I don’t knowwhohe did it with. I suspect Silas has something to do with it, but I can’t prove it. The only thing I can prove is that he doesn’t pay enough taxes, and that’s just not enough.
I need to have the power to end his life as he knows it and crumble his world.
A week traveling with him—attending meetings and parties by his side—might give me the rest of what I need.
I can’t take this laptop with me, but I have an excellent memory, and I can take notes on my phone. Encrypted notes, of course, in a language that nobody but me understands… so if Killian discovers my scribbles, he’ll think they’re nonsense.
As much as the idea of spending an entire week with Killian bothers me—or does it excite me?—I can’t deny that this is an opportunity to get what I need. I’ll find the final nails for his coffin, and when we return, I’ll make all the necessary preparations.
I need to be able to bury Killian without burying myself too… and that requires just a little bit more ammunition.
Luckily, Killian’s about to unknowingly fill up the chamber and cock the pistol for me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Killian
It’s late on Friday night when I drag my ass to the basement of a high-end nightclub to meet with Carter. He’s probably the closest thing to a friend I have, considering he’s the only person I’ll willingly spend time with outside of work hours.
Aside from Lyra. These days, I can’t seem to get enough of that infuriatingly beautiful woman. Which is a problem, considering I only have just over a week left with her before our deal is over.
Icouldextend the timeline, of course, but what would be the point? I’d be wasting my time alongside hers, since nothing substantial could ever come of us. I require a very specific woman to fit into my life, and Lyra will never be that woman. She’ll never be quiet or demure. She may be poised, but she also radiates a curiosity and power that tells me she’ll be notoriously difficult to manage.
Men in my circles have wives for two purposes; arm candy and procreation. Lyra would never just be arm candy, and I’m certain she’d rather cut out her uterus with a rusty spoon than carry my heir.
In short, she is not worth the hassle. And yet… the thought of only having a little bit of time left with her is bothersome.Extremelybothersome.
Fortunately, meeting up with Carter provides an excellent distraction. The bouncer waves me right through the VIP entrance, recognizing me, and I make my way down a carpet-laden staircase that leads into the most exclusive room of the club—and the room known for hosting orgies and kinky play-parties alongside the occasional intimate gathering for a billionaire or mafia crew.
Carter reclines on a loveseat, arms slung over the back, with two girls sitting on either side of him. His legs are spread and his pants are down, and a third girl is on her knees in front of him, eagerly slurping away on his cock, head bobbing up and down. Carter looks more bored than interested in getting his dick sucked, but he’s not protesting.
“Killian,” he greets, jerking his chin up. He idly reaches over with one hand and shoves one of the girl’s shirt down, freeing her tits. He pinches her nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he regards me with a thoughtful expression. “We have a bit of a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” I ask, glancing at an empty armchair across from him. I wonder how many STDs the seat has seen.
“None,” Carter says, reading my mind. A nifty trick he’s developed over years of working with some of the seediest individuals in the world and constantly anticipating someone to put a hit on him. “Professional, medical-grade cleaners come in here every night. Stop being a fucking snob and sit.”
“I’m new-money; snobbery is part of the package,” I comment drily, but lower myself into the seat nonetheless.
Carter chuckles. “New money or not, you’ve got more liquid assets than most of the old-money families in this city.Combined.”
“Most of them in the world, as well,” I correct, lifting a shoulder. “Hard work pays off.”
“So does the occasional hostile takeover.”
I nod my agreement. “What’s the problem? Is John still kicking up a fuss?”
“No, though he is now on my kill-list. He tried to air an article through one of the reporters he’s been working with, one that’d have implicated both of us in taking over his company. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to piss me off.” He glances down at the girl between his legs. “Suck harder.”
