King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

“Hey.” Alarm brightened his gaze. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He rubbed away one of my tears with a gentle thumb. “Shh. It’s okay.” “I thought you’d left.” I hiccupped, embarrassed but too relieved to do anything about it. Understanding dawned on Xavier’s face. “There was an old couple here earlier. One of them fell, so I helped them downstairs. I sent you a message in case you showed up while I was gone.” “My phone died.” I hiccupped again. “I forgot to charge it.” “Ah.” Xavier’s voice hoarsened as he pulled me toward him.

“I’m here, Luna. I didn’t leave...

“I’m sorry,” I said through a lingering sob. “I didn’t…when I…” I wasn’t the type for heartfelt speeches or flowery prose, and it was a testament to how well Xavier knew me that he didn’t need either of those things to understand what I was trying to say. “You don’t have to apologize. I know.” His arms tightened around me. “All that matters is you’re here.” I lifted my head, my heart aching as I looked at the man who’d always been there for me, in one way or another, since he entered my life. “I love you,” I said quietly.

This time, they felt right. “I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it, and I’m sorry for pushing you away. I just…” My voice dropped even lower. “I’m scared.”

am too, but that’s what makes this worth it.” He pushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes, his touch impossibly tender. “Life would be pretty boring if we knew what was going to happen every day.” I sniffled. “Actually, that sounds wonderful. I would love that.” “Well, you color coordinate your office supplies, so I’m not surprised.”

“Smartass.” “I’m guessing that’s one of the things you love about me.” Xavier gave me one of those crooked, dimpled smiles I loathed and adored so much. “And your dedication to making sure your green highlighters are always lined up to the left of the blue ones is one of the things I love about you.” He dipped his head, pressing his forehead against mine. “Love isn’t about perfection, Luna; it’s about imperfect people creating their own version of happily ever after. And while I don’t know everything, I do know this: Every version of my happily ever after will always include some version of you.”

Xavier framed my face with his hands, stilling me. “I always want to kiss you, and you’re perfect exactly the way you are.”

none of that mattered as I twined my fingers through his hair and returned his kiss with abandon.

I love you. Three words, uttered countless times by countless people over the centuries. Yet coming from her, they had the power to bring me to my knees.

“Only because they’re jealous.” “Even ninety-year-old Irma?” She sounded skeptical. “ Especially ninety-year-old Irma.” I paused. “But if you ever want a third…” “Xavier.” Sloane shoved at my chest, her laugh mingling with mine. “You’re terrible.” “That’s what you love about me.” “It is.” She sighed. “I have questionable taste.”

“I would take offense to that if I weren’t so confident in my good looks and dashing personality.” I pressed my lips to hers. “And if I didn’t love you so much.”

My eyes were getting heavy too, but I forced myself to stay awake a while later so I could soak in the moment—my arms around Sloane, her head against my shoulder, the rhythm of our breaths rising and falling in unison. And as my gaze traced the delicate fan of her lashes and the content curve of her lips, there was only one word running through my head. Mine.

so I didn’t expect him to have anyone in mind. However, he proved me wrong when he wrote something else on a fresh sheet of paper. It contained only one word—specifically, one name. Ayana. The same Ayana who’d just gotten engaged.

“She’s already on the list, but I’ll triple check,” I said, rearranging my own expression into one of neutrality.

Being in love was strange.

Everything seemed more tolerable with the knowledge that, no matter what happened, there was someone out there who called me his and who I called mine.

Routine became suggestion, and every suggestion became a touch more magical when Xavier was involved.

Caroline smiled thinly. “You may want to stay in the room for a bit longer.” Then she, too, left, but she’d barely departed before a familiar girlish voice squealed, “Sloane!”

“Hey, Pen.” I smiled past the swell of emotion in my throat. “I missed you.” “I missed you too.”

“But they took you and Rhea away, and the threats worked!” she protested. “See? Look at us.” She gestured at our trio. “Honestly, I should’ve tried that tactic sooner. Then we wouldn’t have had to sneak around for so many years.”

“I took off work, so I’m all yours.”

“Did Xavier hurt you?” she asked. “Because I told him I’d sic Mary on him if he did.” “He did briefly, but he didn’t mean it, and he apologized.” I paused, my brow creasing. “Who’s Mary?” “A haunted Victorian doll.” I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t have a Victorian doll. They creep you out.” “I know.” Pen’s grin was pure mischief. “But he doesn’t know that.”

“You’re wrong. I did do something,” I said calmly. “I proved your husband is a lying scumbag, though I’d correctly guessed it wouldn’t matter if it took you that long to recognize his faults. If you want to stay with him, stay. If you want to divorce him one day, then do that. There’s no need to tell me because I truly don’t care. But I hope for your unborn baby’s sake that he treats them better than he’s treated anyone else in his life. Otherwise, he’ll learn that children aren’t always as forgiving as wives.” Georgia sucked in a sharp breath, but I didn’t wait for a response. I walked out the door and didn’t look back.

“Have you seen the owner? I have a message for him.” I turned, my mouth curving into a smile when Sloane came into view, breaking me out of my pensive mood. I was taking a moment for myself in the back before I started mingling, but the guests could wait a bit longer. They had plenty to entertain them. Sloane sauntered toward me in a shimmery silver-white dress and heels that made her legs look miles long. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she came up beside me.

“I’m not sure where he is, but I’m happy to pass the message along,” I drawled. My blood burned a little hotter when she pressed her hand against my chest, but I maintained a deceptively casual stance while I waited.

“Good.” Sloane threaded the fingers of her other hand through my hair, brought my mouth down to hers, and pressed her lips softly against mine. One second. Two seconds. Three. The kiss lingered on the third beat before she pulled away, leaving behind the taste of mint and strawberries. “Pass that along to him,” she murmured. “Tell him happy birthday, and congratulations on a job well done.”

Warmth flickered in my chest, but I couldn’t resist a little tease. “I’m happy to, but do you mind repeating that from the top? I want...

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” “Once or twice, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again.” “I love you,” I murmured. “Más que cualquier otra cosa en el mundo.” This time, I kissed her, and I let it last.

“To someone with passion, pride, purpose. That’s the man I fell in love with, and when I cast my vote, those will be the reasons behind it. My vote won’t be biased because I’m dating him; it’ll be biased because I know firsthand how hard he’s worked to launch the Vault. If he wasn’t the type of man who’d do that, we wouldn’t be dating in the first place.”

In five minutes, Sloane had undercut Mariana’s sneak attack, redirected the committee’s attention to the purpose of this call, and added the first tally in my column. That’s my girl.

Some days, we could talk all night; other days, we didn’t need words at all. Just being with each other was enough.

“How generous of you.” Sloane was still laughing when I turned her around to kiss her.

Since we started dating, we’d dined at the finest restaurants, enjoyed the most exclusive shows, and luxuriated in weekend getaways everywhere from St. Lucia to Malibu, but these types of moments were my favorite—the casual, comfortable ones where we could be ourselves and nothing else.

Sloane drew a sharp inhale of breath. “Is that…?” “A goldfish,” I confirmed.

“I didn’t think I’d miss having a goldfish ignore me so much,” Sloane said, her voice thick. “He’s perfect. Thank you.” “I’m glad you like him. The store said he was the feistiest one.” We stared at the fish as it lazily circled the pagoda. “But they didn’t define what they meant by feisty.” “Feisty.” Sloane pursed her lips in thought. “That should be his name.” Feisty the Fish? My God.

Sloane and I entered our room. Our. It didn’t sound as strange as I’d expected. I guess in my mind, I’d already considered the house ours before she moved in.

I couldn’t think of a better way to start the next chapter of our lives together.

“You were right. This was exactly what I needed.” I stretched my arms over my head with a content sigh. “I could stay here forever.” “Say that again,” Xavier said. “What?” “The first three words. You were right.”

“That I’m a masochist.” “Ah. I knew there was a reason why I loved you.”

“Penny for your thoughts,” Xavier said. “You look like you’re surprised about something.” A smile touched my lips. He always knew me so well.

Nights meant dinners at home, beneath the chandelier we’d fallen in love with during our last trip to Paris. They meant crackling fires and conversations in bed, the type that meandered easily until one or both of us fell asleep. Nights were love and warmth and moonlight, my safe haven from the world.