King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

“Hey.” I reached for her but stopped halfway, afraid she might shatter beneath my touch. Sloane was always so strong, but in that moment, she looked brittle. Fragile. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” She stepped aside so I could enter, avoiding my gaze the entire time. “Sloane.” It was a question, plea, and command wrapped into one.

“Sloane. It’s okay. They’re just reservations.” I tipped her chin up so her eyes met mine. “They’re not important.”

She didn’t resist when I pulled her into my chest, and when she curled into me, just a little bit, I wanted to hold her tight and never let go.

He’d refused to leave my side for weeks after the accident, as if he knew I would break if I didn’t have something to hold on to.

“Having The Fish around helped too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I was upset, it was nice to have someone—something—to talk to.” She buried her face deeper into my chest, as if ashamed of what she was about to say. “I’m sad he died. I never even gave him a real name.” “Well, he’s a goldfish,” I said practically. “There are worse things you could’ve called him.” Her muffled laughter made me smile.

“We’ve missed our reservations, but if you give me fifteen minutes, I can get ready⁠—” “Forget about dinner. We’ll order takeout and watch the new Cathy Roberts movie.” I’d rather be here than at some stuffy restaurant anyway. Sloane lifted her head. “The one where the big-city rich girl is forced to move to the Australian countryside and falls in love with the surly but handsome ranch hand?” she asked hopefully. “Yep. I’ll even let you write your scathing review in peace without questioning your unfair harshness toward the poor actors or screenwriter.” Her eyes gleamed. “Deal.”

But the more I listened, the more anger seeped beneath my skin, slow yet scorching.

Warmth rushed to fill my stomach, calming my fury. I swallowed the choice words I had for her ex and simply said, “You can tell me anything.” Sloane’s pen stilled.

“I know,” she said, even softer than before, and a tiny, crucial brick crumbled from around my heart.

I didn’t take for granted how comfortable she felt falling asleep while I was here.

And I wondered, my mind flipping from the first time we’d met in her office to this moment right here, right now, just how in the hell I’d fallen in love with Sloane Kensington.

“They offered me a courtesy membership when I first moved to New York,” I said lazily, my smile hiding the flicker of rage in my gut. “Of course, I don’t use it often. Why come here when I could go to Valhalla?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, still with my affable tone. “I’m not here to talk.” Then I drew back my arm and slammed my fist into his face.

wasn’t a violent person. I rarely had to resort to physical brawls to solve a problem, and in Bentley’s case, I didn’t have to; I wanted to.

“That was your first and final warning,” I said, my words quiet enough to reach only his ears. “Touch, talk, or even think about Sloane again, and I’ll make what Richard McEntire did to that ball boy with his tennis racket look like a walk in the fucking park. That includes any indirect contact. If you make her life difficult in any way, you’ll be blacklisted from New York society so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”

“You don’t have the power,”

“No?” I said softly. “Try me.”

but that didn’t mean I had to stand by and watch while Georgia tried to tear down the woman I loved. Loved.

The way my mind mapped every detail about Sloane, both consciously and unconsciously, like I would drown if I didn’t inhale enough of her. The comfort I had in sharing my secrets with her, and the spike in my pulse whenever she was near. The warmth; the jealousy; the fierce, overwhelming protectiveness. I loved her, totally and completely, and I’d be damned if I let anyone hurt her.

at least with Xavier. I suspected I would’ve felt differently had I opened the door and seen anyone else. But I hadn’t, and he’d been here, and he’d stayed. Overnight.

That was already a big deal for me because I didn’t let random men in my personal space. But he wasn’t a random man; he was him, and the house felt so much more vibrant when he was there that I’d

“Have you ever baked before?” Xavier leaned against the doorframe and arched an eyebrow at my attempt to make chocolate chip cookies while a batch of cupcakes baked in the oven. Amusement played in his gaze, along with a hint of concern.

“No, but I’m a fast learner.”

“Are you?” Xavier sounded skeptical, which I didn’t appreciate. “Yes.”

“Not that I don’t believe you, darling, but your cupcakes are burning.”

Xavier dropped the magazine he’d used to fan the smoke into the recycling bin. “Crumble & Bake delivers,” he said carefully. “Perhaps we should order in.” My shoulders slumped. “I guess we should.”

“You know what else is an essential life skill? Living,” Xavier teased. “I’m concerned any future baking attempts will result in your kitchen burning down.” “Very funny.” I tossed a balled-up napkin at him. “Next time, you try to bake.” “I’m good. I know where my talents lie, and it’s not in the kitchen.” His arm rested on the back of the couch, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. “But you don’t need to cook for me, Luna. I’m happy ordering in.” “Because restaurants do it better?” “Well, yeah.” He laughed when I knocked my knee against his in reproach, but a smile broke through my disgruntlement.

“It’ll be primed for a takeover,” Xavier finished. “Kai Young?” “He emailed me yesterday. He said he’s open to it if the price and conditions are right.”

“So you’ll be rid of Perry Wilson the man, and you’ll ensure his only remaining platform will be in friendlier hands.” Xavier whistled. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“If I had access to my inheritance, I’d buy it out and save you the trouble,” Xavier said. “I’ve always wanted a little slice of the internet kingdom.”

I laughed. “I appreciate the sentiment, but the thought of you running a news blog is terrifying.” “You don’t think I can do it?” “I think you can do it too well.”

“Maybe I’m a greedy bastard, plain and simple.” I merely looked at him without saying anything, and after a long, tense silence, his irreverence dissolved into a sigh. “I’m giving half of it to charity.” I almost choked on my cake. That wasn’t what I’d expected.

I reached the last name on the list and laughed out loud. “The Yale endowment fund?” “My father was a Harvard guy; he hated Yale with a passion. School rivalry and all that.” Xavier’s dimples played peekaboo. “I’ll make sure he gets a nice library on campus.”

“Thank you. I’ve always aspired to be both those things. Evildoers have way more fun, and geniuses are, well, geniuses.” Xavier pocketed his phone.

“Don’t get me wrong though. I’m definitely keeping some of the money. I like my cars and five-star hotels.”

Xavier’s answering smile was pure warmth, and later that night, when we lay sweaty and sated in each other’s arms, I still felt the brush of it against my skin. For the first time since The Fish died, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I’d never see Sloane again,

“Xavier.” A new voice penetrated my fog of memories. It sounded far-off, like something out of a dream. Cool, smooth, feminine.

“Xavier.” Warm hands framed my face. “Look at me.” I did, if only because I didn’t have the strength to argue.

her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “Are you okay?” she repeated.

“I told you, the club is done. Do you hear me? As in, it’s never happening. Why don’t you get it?” “Because I know this is your emotions talking!” Her composure finally snapped. “You went through a lot today, and I’m not trying to downplay that. But you can’t make a decision about your entire future based on⁠—” “Yes, I can!” I stood,

Not all of us can go through life pretending they don’t feel, Sloane!” Unlike you. I didn’t say it, but I didn’t need to; that was the problem with us knowing each other so well. Sloane’s skin leeched of color. She’d taken a step back when I stood, and she stared up at me with something I’d never seen from her before: raw, undisguised hurt.

Fuck. I reached for her, my throat clogged with the bitter residue of my words. “Luna...” “You’re right.” She shied away from my touch, her eyes still glossy with hurt. “Not everyone can.” “I didn’t⁠—” “I have to go.” Sloane turned away, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “We’ll talk after things have calmed down.” Don’t go. I’m sorry. I love you. Words I should’ve said but didn’t. Couldn’t. The only thing I could do was watch her walk away as my world went down in flames for the second time that day.

Even a week later, even knowing he hadn’t meant it, it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. That was what terrified me the most— the fact someone else had that much power over me.

My review notebook lay empty in my lap; every time I tried to write something, I pictured Xavier playfully teasing me about it, and I lost my words.

“You have to talk to him eventually.” This time, Alessandra was the one who spoke. “Your dating trial is expiring soon.” Pain cleaved through me. “I know.” I wouldn’t win awards for my eloquence today, but I was afraid that if I uttered more than a handful of words at a time, it would destroy my already-tenuous grip on my emotions.

Not seeing or talking to Sloane while knowing how much I’d hurt her the last time we spoke? Hell times a fucking thousand.

I finished my drink and motioned the bartender for another one. He slid a fresh glass of whisky across the counter as someone settled on the stool next to mine. “Save it,” I said without turning my head. “This is quite sad.” Kai ignored my preemptive dismissal, his tone mild. “Have you considered other methods of coping besides drinking by yourself at”—he checked his watch—“three in the afternoon?” “I’m not in the mood for your judgment, and I’m not the only one sitting at the bar at three in the afternoon.”

My gut twisted at the indirect mention of Sloane, and it took everything in me not to interrogate Kai. Has Isabella talked to Sloane already? What did she say? How is she doing? How much does she hate me right now?

“That list of names I gave you? Those are some of the sharpest people in business. They believed in you enough to invest their time, money, and resources into the club, and they wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t think you were capable of pulling it off. So stop using your martyr act as an excuse and figure out how to finish what you started.”