Page 63 of Emperor of Corruption

“Killian King,” he says. “You are a hard man to get a hold of.”

“We have that in common.” I motion to the seats across from my desk. “Please.”

Carter sinks into the chair and folds his ankle across the opposite knee, getting comfortable.

“I heard you used Rhys as an errand boy.”

“Errand boys don’t get paid five figures for their work.”

“True.” Carter pauses. “Don’t do it again.”

“Then don’t offer his services for hire,” I reply.

Carter stares at me for several moments. “It smells like sex in here.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. A faint whiff of Coco Mademoiselle from Chanel, along with the scents of cum and faint remnants of sweat.”

“I never knew you had the nose of a bloodhound.”

“I’m a man of many talents. Have you been nailing that hot journalist here?”

I don’t like the sound of him calling her hot. Has he seen her in person? “Why don’t we dispense with your attempts at small talk and get to the point?”

Carter’s nose wrinkles. “Small-talk?” He appears genuinely perplexed at the notion, as if he’s never heard of it before.

I roll my eyes. “You know. What middle-class people do to fill the silence with the sounds of their voices.”

Carter mimes retching. “That’s why fucking around below your tax bracket is never a good idea.”

He gives me a pointed stare; I ignore it. “Why are you here, Carter?”

On paper, Carter Black is the owner and CEO of Castell Luxury Group—a company he started after his hostile takeover and ousting of John Tudor. A company I’m a silent partner of.Offpaper, Carter Black has his finger in every notable pie in the world, including in mafiacircles. He’s one of the most powerful men alive—alongside me. The Eyes tried to recruit him a few years ago; he refused on account of not wanting to be bored to death.

“I’m here because Johnny-boy might make himself into a problem.”

I wave a dismissive hand. I helped Carter orchestrate the takeover of John’s old company, Harbor & Hale Luxury Transit, and aided him in morphing it into Castell Luxury group. It was made very clear to John that, should he interfere with any of my dealings, I’d ensure he lost the ability to meddle in anything ever again.

“He’s not big enough to make a problem. Last I checked, he was bordering on destitute,” I dismiss.

“He still has a seven-figure trust fund,” Carter points out.

“Like I said. Destitute.”

“Fucking snob,” Carter mutters. “Destitute or not, he still has a mouth, and I’ve gotten intel that he’s been running it.”

That could prove to be problematic. “Source?”

“Reliable and confidential.”

“Threat scale?”

“Probably minimal,” Carter replies. “My tech guy reports that he’s been making secretive calls over encrypted lines. Several of them, to several different phone numbers. Looks like he wants to find a reporter to leak his story to.”

Something in my gut tenses and twists. A few weeks ago, I’d have assumed that Lyra was digging, but I’ve scared her out of trying to gain any intel on me. Even so… “Have any names of who he’s been calling?”

“Nobody you know,” Carter replies. “My people will take care of them.”