Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“You don’t want this to be over, either,” he growls.
He’s wrong. He has to be wrong.
“Don’t pretend to know what I’m thinking,” I snap.
“Then look me in the eyes and tell me I don’t turn you on more than anyone’s ever turned you on. That you don’t think about me in your free time, obsess over me, and fantasize over what I’ve done to you and what I might do to you next.”
My jaw clenches, and I glare at him. “You traumatized me!”
“Once, and out of necessity. It was either get leverage on you that’d keep your mouth shut or kill you. Would you have preferred I chose the latter?”
“The first time we were together—and the second, and third and fourth. Those memories haunt me.”
“Do they?” Killian challenges. “Or do they titillate you? You’ve had to be in control of your life since you were a toddler. Look me in the eye and tell me that having me take the decisions from you isn’t a relief.”
“Having someone ignore my consent is certainly not a relief,” I hiss. “You don’t respect me. You don’t admire me. You use me, and can’t understand why I won’t accept your bribes or use you back. You’re completely out-of-touch, and you make me feel like shit far more often than you make me smile.”
“I do respect you!” Killian roars, stunning me into silence.
“And I do fucking admire you, no matter how hard I try not to—and believe me, Lyra, I fucking try. I try to see you as beneath me, but you aren’t.
You’re all I think about. I sit in boardroom meetings and remember the sound of your voice and the way you moan when I fuck you like I hate you, the way you cry when I hurt you. ”
“Y-you’re just infatuated,” I say, but the statement is weak.
“Maybe,” Killian agrees. “In any case, I don’t want this to be done in a week.”
I shake my head. “This is one of the cases where you won’t get what you want, Killian.
Our time together has been… interesting, but it’s also broken pieces of me that need time to heal.
I can’t stay with you, knowing the impact that two months have already had.
I sleep on my couch because I can’t stand the sight of my bed.
I go into work every day horrified that it’ll be the day you decide to leak the tape you made of me.
You’re bad for me—we’re toxic together. You’ve never made me happy—not once. ”
“I’ve made you come really, really hard,” he retorts.
“That’s not the same thing. You don’t make me laugh or smile.”
“I could.” His voice has quieted. “I could make you happy.”
I release a cruel laugh. “How? You can’t even make yourself happy.
You try to fill the empty void inside you with money, but that won’t work.
It’ll never work. If you want my advice, look for love.
Whether it’s from friends or a significant other—that’s the only thing that’ll have the power to heal you. ”
I’ve barely gotten home when Killian calls me. I contemplate ignoring him, especially in light of the tense conversation we had, but ultimately decide against provoking him.
“Yes?” I answer.
“I’m traveling in a week, for about a week.” Killian sounds distracted, and I hear the noise of typing in the background. If he’s upset about how our conversation went, he doesn’t show it. “I have several meetings and events to attend in Europe. We’ll leave on Saturday and return on Monday.”
My stomach bottoms out. “We? Return on… Monday?” I shake my head. “Killian, that Saturday is our last interview together. Then it’s over.”
“We’ve missed interviews. This will make up for them. You’ll be staying in the finest hotels in the world, dining at the best restaurants. I want to hear a thank you, not a refusal.”
My eyes squeeze shut. My lips thin. “I can’t afford to take a week off work.”
“You won’t be taking it off work. In fact, you’ll be working very hard. Taking my cock whenever I feel like fucking you—which will be often—and accompanying me to meetings and any evening events.”
My brows touch. “Not as your date, though, right?”
Killian pauses. “Of course, not as my date. You’re not interested in heightening your social status; I’m not interested in investing energy into someone who’s a lost cause.”
He’s reverted to Asshole Killian because I refused him. I’m not surprised, but I am somewhat disappointed. As much as his attempts to extend our arrangement were futile, it felt nice to see the depths of his desire for me.
“I still can’t take a week away from the office,” I say. Sarah might’ve been nice to me for a bit because I got mugged and then decided to catch the plague—her words, not mine—but her leniency with me is very slim these days.
“Your boss already approved my reallocation of your work time,” Killian says.
I freeze. “You went over my head?” Again?
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 know who he 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.