King of Wrath (Kings of Sin, #1)

by Ana Huang

Why couldn’t I have ended up with someone like him? He was polite, charming, and rich enough to meet my parents’ standards. Instead, I was stuck with a brooding Italian who wouldn’t know good manners if they slapped him in the face.

I knew it was physically impossible, but I couldn’t shake the eerie sense he could see straight through me like I was made of nothing more than a thousand pieces of broken, transparent glass.

Nobody flipped a switch from tolerable to asshole faster than Dante Russo. It took every ounce of willpower not to toss the nearest drink in his face. He had some nerve, but the worst part was, he wasn’t wrong. The insults with a grain of truth always cut the deepest.

I hated his arrogance, his rudeness, and the mocking way he called me mia cara. I hated the way my pulse kicked at the rough span of his hand around my neck. And I hated how he always seemed larger than life, like the molecules of any space he entered had to fold in on themselves to accommodate him. Are. We. Clear? His maddening voice echoed in my head. It was clear, all right. It was clear Dante Russo was Satan in a nice suit.

Nothing except the cool brush of platinum and a heavy weight that felt more like a prison than a promise. Most engagement rings were a symbol of love and commitment. Mine was the equivalent of a signature on a merger contract.

I felt like a bird trapped in a cage of circumstances beyond my control, unable to do anything except sing and look pretty.

Heath painted a tempting picture of a world where I was free to do as I pleased, but that was all it was, a picture. Fantasy, not reality. In the real world, I had duties and obligations to fulfill. No matter how rude or overbearing Dante was, I had to make my engagement work, one way or another.

“You’re welcome,” I said stiffly, unsure how to handle whatever the hell was happening here. I had no frame of reference for the strange fog clouding my brain, or the twinge in my chest when I looked at her. It wasn’t wrath, like with Brax. It wasn’t hatred, like with Francis. It wasn’t lust or dislike or any of the other emotions that had shaped my previous interactions with Vivian. I didn’t know what it was, but it unsettled the hell out of me.

He looked invincible, but that was the thing about humans. No one was invincible. They were all vulnerable to the same hurts and insecurities as everyone else. Some people just hid it better.

“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”

You can’t live your life trying to please others. You can be courteous and respectful, and you can compromise, but when it comes down to it? It’s your life. Don’t waste it.”

She hadn’t picked up the rest of her belongings yet, and I didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse. A blessing, because it gave me hope she would return. A curse, because everywhere I turned, there she was. A beautiful, haunting presence I felt but couldn’t touch.

A sky without stars, a home without heart.

And I’m selfish enough to hope you’ll see how much I don’t just want but need you. Today, tomorrow, and all the days that come after that.”

That was always his excuse. I am your father. As if that absolved him from any wrongdoing and gave him the right to manipulate me like a chess piece in a game I never consented to.

I’ll always be grateful for the opportunities you provided me growing up, but the past doesn’t excuse the present.