Chapter Three
“Did you get lost, perhaps?” Killian wonders aloud. His expression gives away no sign of what he’s thinking, but his eyes… they burn with something. Something that’s far too close to excitement for my comfort.
“You can’t blame a tiger for its stripes,” I reply, aiming for casual, though I can hear the tremble in my voice.
I fucked up, I got caught, and now I have to own it.
I get the strong sense that talking my way out of this would only irritate Killian, and I do not need to give him any more reason to be angry with me.
He smiles, a slow, sensual curl of his lips that exposes all of his teeth. “Quite right,” he agrees. “Just like you can’t blame a wolf for his sharp teeth.”
I swallow, unsure of what to say or do. “Forgive me,” I try. “I understand if you want to cancel the rest of the interview—”
“Don’t be silly,” Killian interrupts. “We’re doing the rest of the interview, and we’ll have all the privacy we need for it.
” He steps in and closes the door behind him.
The click of it shutting sounds like a lock sealing on my fate.
If at all possible, my heart sinks even lower, while my stomach feels like it’s in zero-gravity free fall and bile rises in my esophagus.
This is what true fear feels like. I’ve experienced it a few times in my life, but never quite so poignantly.
Something about his mannerisms makes me think Killian might kill me right here and now.
As much as I try to tell myself that’s a ridiculous notion, that Killian is too high-profile to commit murder, my gut tells me I wouldn’t be the first victim of his wrath.
There are witnesses that could attest that I was last seen leaving the gala…
but I don’t think any of them would stand up to Killian.
I don’t want to stand up to Killian—I want to get the fuck out of here.
“I’d prefer we finished it somewhere else—”
“In case it isn’t obvious, Lyra, I don’t have any regard for your preference.”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
I lick my lips, taking a step back as he begins to advance forward. “I apologize for my unprofessionalism—”
“Digging isn’t unprofessional,” he interrupts me yet again.
“I would expect nothing less from a Pulitzer-prize winning reporter. At such a young age, as well.” He stops in the center of the room and cocks his head to the side.
“Tell me, did growing up without parents contribute to your drive for success? Even I have to admit that your work ethic is impressive. Senior Staff Writer and award-winning investigative journalist at all of twenty-five years old.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“There are very few people in the world who can boast of such accomplishments.”
His words rob me of all breath. He’s done research on me—thorough research.
He knows things about me that I’ve carefully scrubbed from my records.
For whatever reason, Killian King has actually looked into me, and that is as terrifying as being trapped alone in a room with him after he discovered me snooping.
“Killian—”
“Is it Killian now? You were so adamant about sticking to Mr. King.”
“Mr. King—”
He steps forward, startling me. “No. Do not speak out of turn in my domain. You’ve been caught in the act, Lyra.” He slowly tilts his head to the side. “Do you have any idea what I could do to you?”
Get me fired and blacklist me at best… kill me at worst.
The notion doesn’t seem so preposterous now that I’m trapped in a room with him. In fact, it seems plausible. Few men achieve Killian’s level of wealth without getting their hands bloody.
“Please don’t kill me,” I whisper, all bluster gone.
He tilts his head in a gesture that’s decidedly odd—almost avian in nature.
“I could kill you,” he says. “I could do it out in the open with a hundred witnesses… and no one would prosecute me. Not if they wanted their families to remain safe.” He takes another step forward.
A scream traps itself in my throat. I already suspected that Killian had a darkness in him, but now he’s superseding my worst fears.
“Or, I could have you fired, your Pulitzer withdrawn, and force you to live out the rest of your life working at a fast-food chain.” Another step, and a full-body chill wracks through me.
“Alternatively… I could give you a fair punishment for your crime.”
I don’t know what fair means to him, but I’m certain we have different definitions.
“Decisions, decisions,” he says casually.
“The party is still going on—”
“Stop. Talking,” he says. His tone is perfectly mild, but the undercurrent is abundantly clear. If I don’t shut the fuck up right now, things will get much worse for me.
“The gala has come to a close,” he says after several moments.
“The guests have all left. It’s just us…
and my security team here. I suppose I could give you over to my team for punishment, but…
” he gives a mock shudder. “Honestly, Lyra, I don’t think you’d enjoy that very much. I certainly wouldn’t.”
I bite my tongue to hold in a retort. The power imbalance has been clear to me from the start, but never quite as intensely as it is now. Right now, I can’t even speak without his permission. Not if I want the slightest chance of escaping this room with my life.
Killian drifts another two steps closer. Now, he’s right on the other side of the desk, and I have never been so afraid in my life. My hands tremble so much one would be forgiven for thinking I'm in Antarctica without a coat.
Killian’s eyes drop to my hands, and then they brighten, filling with even more excitement. He’s getting off on my fear—I can feel it. Taste it.
“I want you to understand something before we proceed,” he says, his tone mockingly gentle.
He meets my gaze again. “You are insignificant to such a degree it’s astounding.
You’re too young, too poor to merit my notice.
You’re an ant that I could crush in my jaws—one not even worthy of crushing because I’d reap no measurable benefit from it.
You may think you have protection or recourse, but let me assure you that you don’t.
Right now, your only chance of walking away from here on your own two legs, with your career intact and livelihood mostly intact, is by doing everything I say.
” He plants his palms on the desk and leans forward.
“Everything I say,” he repeats for emphasis, and a harsh understanding overcomes me.
This psycho is going to force himself on me.
“Do you understand?” he questions.
I nod shakily—what other choice am I left with?
I’m no stranger to assault—I’m a woman living in New York City, after all.
Nearly every female I know has experienced it in one form or another.
My experiences have paled in comparison to some, but I’ve been grabbed inappropriately before.
I’ve been forced or coerced to certain extents…
but never to the extent that I suspect I’m about to be.
It's either this, death, or destruction of the life you’ve fought to build.
The thought of going to the police barely flits through my mind, and as soon as it does, I dismiss it. I’d be shocked if there was a single cop in this city who wasn’t on Killian’s payroll. I saw the chief of police out in the gala earlier—anything I say would only harm me.
No, all that’s left for me now is to endure whatever horror is coming, pick myself up in the morning, and start on my exposé.
Killian’s going to hurt me tonight? I’m going to fucking destroy him in the press. It’ll take time and more effort than I’ve ever put into my work, but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
“Good. Then we should get along just fine. Now, I’m sure that pretty little head is filling up with all sorts of ideas.
I’m going to do you a favor and stop them before you get yourself into even more trouble.
Nobody will believe you if you tell them what’s been done.
I have no history of misconduct—” he pauses, catching my flinch when he says history.
Just because he doesn’t have a record of misconduct doesn’t mean he hasn’t engaged in it. God, how many women has he done something like this to? How many lives has he ruined?
“Don’t worry about that,” he says carelessly. “To answer the question written on your face, sweet Lyra, you would be the first in this position. I’ve never had to…persuade other women to enjoy private time with me.”
I don’t know how he read my question from a mere flinch, but I don’t believe him at all. There’s no fucking way I’m the first. He has to have done this before, and if I’m alive after tonight, I will dedicate myself to unearthing every single misdeed he’s ever committed.
“Do you know why I invited you here tonight?” he questions, abruptly changing topics.
I shake my head.
He lifts his index finger, pointing it at me.
“Because you intrigue me. Your conduct in my office—professional, almost clinical, but oh-so-sharp.” He pauses to chuckle, as if sharing a private joke with himself.
“Would you like to know how many reporters and journalists I’ve interviewed with over the last five years? ”
I don’t respond, not even with a nod or shake of my head.
“Dozens,” he says. “And all of them were so… easy. There’s this mystique around your kind that makes men of even my caliber wary of you.
I’ll confess, I was almost nervous before my first interview…
but then, I recognized that even the best investigative reporters are as easy to fool as the rest of the population. ”
He’s just confirmed what I suspected since the moment I met him—he’s an expert at fooling people. He lives the life of a lie in more than one way. I don’t know that he experiences emotions at all.
No, that’s not fair—he’s experiencing emotions right now. Excitement at the prospect of raping me, hurting me.
“Not you, though,” Killian says. “I could tell from the first moment I wouldn’t be able to fool you—not like I could the others. If you had any power, that might make you dangerous… as is, it makes you quite the novelty.”
He backs away from the desk, so suddenly it startles me. I feel like a mouse he’s playing with for his own amusement. I feel as insignificant, as powerless as he’s telling me I am.
My eyes flick to the door. I could run for it. I could at least try, even if I don’t succeed. Despite my best efforts to remain level-headed, my survival instincts are creeping to the fore. I want—need—to get away from this fucking lunatic—
“Don’t,” Killian says succinctly. “Do yourself a favor, Lyra, and don’t. You won’t like how… aggressive I’ll get if I have to chase you.”
My eyes briefly close. I inhale a deep breath, then two, and finally force them open again. Killian’s observing me with a tilted head and eyes that glimmer with curiosity, as if he’s a scientist and I’m a newfound specimen he’s eager to dissect.
I’ve never been in this sort of danger before, and I’ll probably never be in it again.
“We’re going to have some fun tonight, Lyra,” he says, turning his back on me and walking to the couch.
He sinks down onto the cushions with the grace of a king holding court and drapes his arms against the spine, then cranes his neck to look at me.
He lifts his hand and crooks his fingers, beckoning me forward.
I glance at the door again. He’s relaxed and at ease, so I might actually be able to make it…
and then what? He’ll destroy my career—and that’s if he doesn’t decide to kill me.
Of course, he could kill me even after I’ve done whatever he wants me to do…
but something tells me that’s not the case.
His mask’s come off, now. He’s not pretending to be a charming, philanthropic, decent person anymore.
He’s showing me every bit of the predator he is—if he were planning on killing me, I think he’d taunt me with that knowledge.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” Killian says carefully. “Come. Here.”
And I know that I no longer have a choice.