Ruin & Rule (Pure Corruption MC #1)

“She’s unique.” He placed his empty glass on the side table, then rubbed a finger over his mouth. “Your colleague gave nothing away on the phone and I can see why.” He smacked his lips together. “I like her.”

Kill stiffened beside me. Every muscle locked down; he’d become a pissed-off statue. The biker lord had gone, swallowing back his given right to rule and accepting a different hierarchy.

He wasn’t in charge. And he wasn’t dealing well with it.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Mr. Steel asked suddenly, looking at Kill.

Kill narrowed his eyes. “What’s there to say? You like her. It’s done. The deal was already arranged—it’s a matter of a signature and it’s finished.” I couldn’t tell if he was pleased the client approved of me or furious.

Mr. Steel chuckled. “So impatient.” Looking between the two of us, he added slyly, “If I wasn’t mistaken, I would say you wanted off my yacht due to this woman.” His lips spread over his sharp teeth. “What happened between you two? I’m not in the habit of accepting used stock.”

My cheeks flared.

“Nothing,” Kill growled. “Now, are we done or not?”

Mr. Steel chuckled. “Temper, temper.”

“Finish it. I have to go.” There was no emotion in Kill’s voice, just indifference.

Indifference?

It was worse than hate. Worse than anger. Indifference was the blankness of all feeling—the place where people went when emotions were too much and they gave up.

My ridiculous hope that he would change his mind evaporated—wisping away with a heavy sigh.

I’ve been so stupid. So unbelievably idiotic to stay. I should’ve shot him when I had the chance.

“Fine. If you’re so in a rush, let’s move over to the bar and begin.” The man stood, moving through the expensive world of teals and greys. The décor was stunning. Masculine but feminine, with hard lines of dark wooden furniture and graceful curves of hand-blown glass statues.

I moved without waiting for Kill to direct me. I never wanted him touching me again.

The bar was surrounded by bottles of expensive cognacs and whiskeys, all glowing amber in the sun streaming through the window.

Kill didn’t want me. He was in my past. So I forced myself to forget about him seething beside me. Instead, I invested all my attention on the buyer—Mr. Steel. He was my future, my enemy, my penance for sins I couldn’t remember. I had to study him and understand how to survive.

What did he keep hidden beneath his white linen suit? What secrets lurked behind his black eyes?

You don’t want to know.

He was wealthy—I knew that much. There was no doubt I would live a life of luxury for however long I pleased him.

Until he throws you overboard to the sharks.

The thought came and went, sending a gust of ice down my spine.

Buying and selling women for whatever reason wasn’t right. He had no ownership over me—no matter how many numbers existed in his bank account.

“Drink?” Mr. Steel asked as he pulled out a bar stool.

“No.” Kill shook his head.

Mr. Steel smiled at me. “I won’t offer you refreshment, my dear. I’m sure we can find something much more fitting the moment this meeting is concluded.”

I wanted to be sick. I wanted to kill him.

I didn’t say a word.

Kill balled his hands, his back tensing beneath his leather cut and creaking softly. “Enough. Sign over what you promised and she’s yours.”

Mr. Steel narrowed his eyes, dropping into negotiation and business rather than hosting. “Fine, let’s talk.” His eyes slithered over me again. “I want her, Killian, but your price is too high.” He reclined against the bar behind him, his gaze never looking away from my chest.

I bit my lip, wishing I had the power to fly away. Be free from all of this. Fly high to find my memories.

Anger seeped through my blood like lava. I glowered at Kill. He wasn’t paying attention to Mr. Steel, his gaze locked on me, his chest rising hard. His jacket tightened around his shoulders as his muscles tensed. His reaction let me glimpse into his soul, giving away how much he deplored everything going on. It gave me power. It set little flames licking my insides.

He gazed at me with vulnerability. He looked lost and desolate and angry—so damn angry.

Seconds ticked past and he didn’t sever the connection between us—refused to look away.

As long as he stared at me that way, I could survive without memories, without the past or future. I could survive in his present and find a resemblance of happiness.

I’m her.

I’m not crazy.

Mr. Steel sneered, “Am I interrupting something?”

Kill snapped out of whatever held us prisoner. “You want her. There’s no negotiation.”

“There’s always a negotiation. You need that stock. I need that girl. But you need the stock more. So I’ll give you seventy-five percent, and I’m being generous.”

Stock?

I knew I wasn’t being traded for money—but stock? What stock? And why?

Kill crossed his arms. “No. That’s a fucking rip-off. Full control or no girl.”

I closed my eyes, letting the pink of my eyelids grant me a new world as the sun bounced across my face. I didn’t want to watch men scrabble over me as if I weren’t a living thing.

The men continued to argue but I faded them out. Kill wanted what this man had. And badly. I was his bargaining chip. My heart sank like a treasure chest into a bottomless sea. No matter what exists between us, this will be the last time I’ll see him.