King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

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.”

“I’ll attend the gala if you promise to join me on vacation after. Three weeks in Spain. No work, just play.”

One week in Spain with one of my least favorite people on the planet. What could possibly go wrong?

Nothing brightened my day more than riling Sloane up. She was so predictable in her responses and so spectacular in her anger, and I loved seeing her ice-queen façade melt long enough to reveal a glimpse of the real person underneath. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I added it to the mental drawer where I collected all things Sloane.

Objectively, Sloane was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Blue eyes, long legs, symmetrical face…Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted a better female form.

On anyone else, her simple black gown would’ve been boring, but Sloane could wear a grocery bag and still blow everyone else out of the water.

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.”

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

I was Sloane Kensington. I didn’t fail, and I didn’t quit.

“You don’t know how I taste.” His smile took on a decidedly more wicked slant. “Not yet.”

We were different in so many ways, but sometimes, all people needed was one point of commonality. One infinitesimal thing that made them feel less alone.

“Hey, if it’s good enough for Prince Rhys, it’s good enough for me. He likes sketching in his free time too.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” I couldn’t imagine the gorgeous but broody crown prince of Eldorra enjoying something as soft as drawing. He looked like he wrestled bears for fun.

I was one of two people sitting at the counter; several stools down, a perfectly put-together Asian man with glasses and a bespoke Delamonte suit observed me with polite curiosity.

Kissing Sloane had been a mistake. Not because I regretted doing it, but because once I did it, I couldn’t imagine not doing it again.

I wanted to take things slow, but when I was near Sloane, what I wanted was irrelevant. I didn’t want her. I needed her. Desperately.

In a world of black and white, she was my kaleidoscope.

This was my greatest high. Her, sated and happy, in my arms. Nothing in the world could ever beat this moment.

“I don’t care how beautiful or famous someone is, Luna. None of them hold a candle to you.”

Our lives weren’t perfect, but here, together, we were at peace.

“Isa, love, stop talking to Sloane behind my back,” he said without turning around.

I loved her, totally and completely, and I’d be damned if I let anyone hurt her.

I didn’t get us to the exit—we’d die. I’d never see Sloane again, and I’d be responsible for yet more death.

It’d been eight days, two hours, and thirty-six minutes since we last spoke. I only hoped I wasn’t too late.

“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 know you think happily ever afters are unrealistic, Luna, but they don’t have to be. You just have to believe in them enough for yourself.

Sometimes, the rom-coms got it right.

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.