King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

“Brea...

I prided myself on maintaining my composure at all times, but Xavier was the only person who could make me lose my cool.

“What do you like about it?”

Xavier must’ve missed the memo that massages were meant to be silent.

“Everyt...

“Bullshit. You don’t ...

His response was so frank and unexpected, I almos...

“Fine. I like fixing things. Solving problems no one...

“Don’t you get bored of doing nothing?”

“Sometimes,”

“But I’m good at doing nothing, so I stick to it. It’s better than fucking things up.”

Xavier was unmotivated, but he wasn’t dumb. If he tried, he could probably run circles around the people sitting in the Castillo Group’s boardroom. Plus, he had an ample cushion of money and connections.

Who didn’t like to be needed? Being needed meant we were good at and good for something. People didn’t leave those they needed. It wasn’t the same as being loved, but it was better than nothing.

If I were to survive the night around him and his friends, I needed to be (very) drunk.

“Look bad?”

“I’m the one who apparently can’t dance, not you.”

“We can change that. I’ve been told I’m an excell...

“Doub...

“You always underesti...

“And you always pro...

“I like it when you get mad. Proves you’re not an ice...

No wonder people called me an ice queen. I couldn’t even show emotion properly.

as droplets of water cascaded down my face, I pretended they were tears.

The concept of happily ever after was the biggest scam since the advent of the overpriced college textbook industry.

“Wait, are we having a bonding moment? Is this the start of a new Xavier and Sloane era?”

“Don’t push it.”

“What the hell have you been doing with your bedroom lamp?”

“Turning it on,” I said in response to his question. I cringed before the words fully left my mouth. “Oh God. That was terrible.” His howl of laughter drowned out my next words. “Do not ever tell anyone I said that. I—stop laughing.”

“Don’t worry.” His shoulders convulsed as he wiped tears from his eyes. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“It wasn’t that...

If someone had told me two days ago that I’d have a movie night with Xavier Castillo and enjoy it, I would’ve asked what drugs they were on, but Friday’s gala and visit with Penny seemed like a lifetime ago.

Perhaps that was why I rarely went on vacation. It lulled us into a false sense of security only to thrust us back into our regular lives, where we were confronted with a world that kept spinning without us and the realization that our presence didn’t matter at all in the grand scheme of things.

“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 sl...

I thrived under pressure.

People could call me a bitch or an ice queen, but there was one unshakeable, undeniable truth—I was the best at what I did. Hands down. That was why CEOs, celebrities, and socialites paid me the big bucks. They didn’t all like me personally, but they respected me and they needed me.

It’d been thirty-six hours since my movie night with Sloane. Thirty-six hours since our dance lessons. Thirty-six hours since I’d discovered how perfectly her curves fit beneath my palms and how much more intoxicating her scent was compared to even the finest whiskey. It was knowledge I could’ve done without because now that I’d experienced it, I couldn’t imagine not reliving it.

“I have sun, sea, food, and a good book,” she said without looking up. “I’m not wasting anything.”

I’d sell my Ferrari for a glimpse into Sloane’s thoughts.

“We’ve worked together for years, and I don’t even know your favorite food.”

That was a lie. 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.

I would never tell her any of that, though, because if there was one thing sure to send Sloane Kensington running, it...

Every time he looked at me, he saw the person who’d taken the love of his life away—and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it because I was the only piece of her he had left.

Every time I looked at him, I saw disappointment, frustration, and resentment. I saw the parent who’d taken out his anger on me when I’d been too young to understand the complexities of grief, who’d given up on me and made me give up on myself before I even started.

I was doing just fine without them, thank you very much.

I wasn’t a violent person, but in that moment, I’d never wanted to punch someone more than one of my oldest friends.

I care.

Because the thought of anyone else touching you fucking kills me.

Now that I was sober, I was grateful he’d stopped me before I humiliated myself further at the club, but I still didn’t appreciate how he’d hauled me out of there like a caveman.