King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

To every woman who’s ever been told to “smile more.” Fuck that. Do what you want.

If I ruined my brand-new Stella Alonso dress over this, I’d kill him, bring him back to clean up the mess, then kill him again.

“Technically, you are an intruder, but a very beautiful one. If you wanted to join me in bed, you only had to say so. No need to go to all this trouble.”

She’d obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.

“Just shut up and follow me,” I snapped, wishing I had a wittier reply. “Yes, ma’am.” His cheeks dimpled. “I love a woman in charge.”

didn’t let people see past what I wanted them to see, and nothing would change that—not even a forced week off with my client nemesis.

I pushed him into a nearby bush.

As a client, he was difficult, but as a person, he was decent.

“Dancing is about movement. You can’t move properly if you’re imitating a petrified piece of wood.”

“I’m naming it the Sloane. Bitter at first but with a sweet aftertaste. Just like someone I know.” “You don’t know how I taste.” His smile took on a decidedly more wicked slant. “Not yet.”

I knew she loved sushi because it was neat and easy to eat on the go. I knew she preferred double cheeseburgers when she was on her period and steak, medium rare, at client dinners unless her client was vegetarian, in which case she ordered soup and salad. She liked her wine white, her coffee black, and her gin with a splash of tonic. I knew all of these things because despite her assumption that I paid attention to no one except myself, I couldn’t stop noticing her if my life depended on it. Every detail, every moment, all filed and categorized in the Sloane cabinet of my mind.

Sloane. Dancing. On a tabletop.

“You’re always telling me to ‘loosen up.’ Now that I am, you have a problem with it?” “I have a problem with some random guy groping you in public,” I snapped. “Why?” Because the thought of anyone else touching you fucking kills me.

“I said your hobbies are boring, not you. I don’t find a single thing about you boring.”

Five people were in charge of my family fortune’s fate, and my publicist was one of them. Once again: What the fuck?

“Because I want you.”

“I don’t want a kiss or a one-night stand,” he said. “I want you. I want to know you outside work. I want to take you on real dates. And I don’t know if it’ll work out in the end, but I want us to at least try.”

I’m afraid of letting someone in again. I’m afraid of getting my heart broken. I’m afraid that, if you get to know the real me, you’ll find me unlovable like everyone else, and it’ll hurt so much more because it’s you.

I needed her the way the ocean tides needed the moon, and I would give anything for her to feel a fraction of the same way toward me.

“Then they’ll know exactly who you belong to.”

Xavier was the only person who could make me forget about my rules and like it. It was disturbing.

We weren’t in Manhattan; we were in the freaking Garden of Eden.

looked at him, and I’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Take your proposition, and go fuck yourself with it.”

“News flash, Bentley, you’re not the sex god you think you are. Your technique is shit, and you couldn’t find a clit if the woman drew you a map and marked it with a giant X.”

I wondered if I’d upended her life the way she had mine, to the point where the pieces would no longer fit if she weren’t there, because she wasn’t a pit stop; she was the destination.

“But there’s an old saying, Georgie : if he cheats with you, he can cheat on you.” I paused, letting pettiness take the wheel. “There’s also another saying : karma’s a bitch.”

“Luna is short for mi luna. My moon. Because no matter how dark the nights got, you were always there, shining so brightly that I always found my way through.”

“I don’t know where you can polish your horns. Perhaps you should google demon services and go from there.”

“Asking Georgia to make someone feel better is like asking a scorpion for a hug.”