King of Sloth (Kings of Sin #4) by Ana Huang

I’d taken a huge gamble by giving Sloane an ultimatum, but we were the same in as many ways as we were different. She needed that push.

I just hoped that in doing so, I hadn’t made the worst mistake of my life.





CHAPTER 42





Sloane





I couldn’t stop checking the time.

It was one in the afternoon; there were eleven hours until my trial period with Xavier expired, but the looming deadline killed my appetite as I pushed my salad around my plate.

If you don’t show up, I’ll know what your answer is, and I’ll never mention this again.

The end of our relationship aside, what would happen if I didn’t show up? Would we stop working together? Would I never see him again? Would the past two months disappear into the past like they’d never happened?

I should be happy about that. That was what I wanted, but if that were the case, why did I feel nauseous?

The few forkfuls I’d forced down earlier churned in my stomach. Cutting all ties with Xavier would be the smartest thing to do. We couldn’t return to our old working relationship when I knew how his lips tasted, and how he felt inside me, and how he held me like—

“Hellooo. Earth to Sloane.” Isabella waved her hand in front of my face, severing my spiraling thoughts. “Where are you?”

“Sorry.” I attempted another bite of food. It tasted like cardboard. “I was just thinking.”

“About tonight?” Alessandra’s eyes gleamed with knowing concern. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I usually grabbed takeout for lunch on workdays, but I’d asked my friends to meet me at a proper restaurant because I needed their advice. I’d filled them in on Xavier’s ultimatum, and their reactions had run the gamut.

Isabella wanted me to meet him, no questions asked. Vivian said I should go with my heart, which wasn’t helpful, because my heart had a habit of making terrible choices. Alessandra was surprisingly neutral, but out of everyone at the table, she understood how important it was to make a decision on my own time, not anyone else’s.

The problem was, I didn’t have much time; I had hours at most.

“No.” I flicked a piece of walnut to the side; I’d forgotten to tell the server not to include them in my salad.

I didn’t know what dishes you like best, so I ordered a bit of everything. None with walnuts, though.

Unshed emotion crowded my throat. I hadn’t cried since last night, and I hadn’t told my friends about the tears. They weren’t relevant; they were a physical symptom, that was all.

I didn’t let myself examine what they were a physical symptom of. “I shouldn’t go. I’m not going to go,” I said with half-hearted conviction. “Meeting him would be stupid, right? We’ll break up eventually, and it’s better to rip the Band-Aid off now than later down the road.”

Isabella frowned, Alessandra quietly cut her chicken, and Vivian took a sip of her water without meeting my gaze.

Ugh. I loved my friends, but obviously, they were biased. They were all disgustingly in love, and while they’d gotten their happily ever afters, they didn’t count. They wanted to be in love, and they didn’t self-sabotage just by virtue of who they were. I would never be the soft, loving type that did well in relationships, and I was perfectly happy being alone.

Perfectly. Happy.

I stabbed at a strawberry with so much force the plate wobbled. “Anyway, enough about my dating life,” I said. “Did I tell you about Perry’s visit to my office yesterday? He was fuming.”

I regaled the table with Perry’s satisfying breakdown, and they made all the right noises of encouragement, but I could tell they were still stuck on my Xavier dilemma.

If I were honest, so was I.

My voice petered out toward the end when I remembered what happened after Perry left. Xavier had shown up, and my heart had slammed against my ribs like it was desperate to break free.

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.

My stomach roiled again, and I stood abruptly, startling my friends from their food.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I ducked my head and speed walked to the ladies’ room. The farther I walked, the easier it was to breathe and block out memories of Xavier—the warmth in his eyes, the rawness of his voice, the brief glimpse of his dimples after my Sleepless in Seattle comment. The dining room chatter helped, too. There was nothing like a little white noise to repress unwanted thoughts.

I’d chosen to meet my friends at Le Boudoir, which had cleaned up its reputation after a guest died at its soft opening last year. The coroners had ruled it a natural death, and the morbid event added a strange mystique to the restaurant, which bustled with surprising activity for this time of year.

In one corner, Buffy Darlington reigned over a table of distinguished old-money socialites. In another, Ayana sat with her date, a good-looking man with dark hair and an intense expression. They appeared to be having a heated discussion so I didn’t say hi; I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, anyway.

I pushed open the door to the restroom and used the facilities. My skin was cold and clammy, but by the time I washed my hands and reapplied my lipstick, I’d gotten my nausea under control. Sort of.