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

By Saturday, I’d had enough. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

I strode down the hall and stopped in front of Xavier’s room. I’d convinced the head housekeeper to lend me her master key, but a pinch of apprehension needled me when I knocked and didn’t get a reply.

I hadn’t expected one, but that didn’t stop my mind from conjuring the worst images of what lay beyond the door.

Piles of empty bottles and filth. Drugs. Xavier overdosed and dead.

I’d never known him to dabble in drugs, but there was a first time for everything.

The apprehension swelled as I inserted the key into the knob.

One twist and the door opened, revealing…

What the hell?

My mouth parted at the scene before me. It wasn’t the crisp, perfectly made bed or the curtains thrown wide over the windows that shocked me. It wasn’t even the lack of visible food and alcohol.

It was the sight of Xavier…drawing?

He sat by the window, his focus unwavering despite my entrance. The easel in front of him held a large sheet of paper covered with what looked like a sketch of a living room. Beside him, a small mountain of crumpled paper balls littered the ground. He looked remarkably put together for someone I’d been convinced was in the throes of self-destruction minutes ago. His hair gleamed thick and glossy in the sunlight; a stray lock fell over his eye, brushing his cheekbone and softening the bold lines of his face. He wore a plain gray T-shirt and jeans that molded to his body like they were made for him, and his biceps flexed with every swoop and curve of his pencil.

A tingle of sudden awareness cascaded down my spine.

I had no idea why I was noticing these things about Xavier, but from a purely physical point of view, he was—

Stop. Get a grip. I caught myself before my thoughts wandered further down inappropriate paths. Clearly, I’d been cooped up in the mansion for too long if I was drawn in by his arms, of all things.

I was here to check on him, not ogle him.

“You have a habit of breaking into my bedroom, Luna,” he said without taking his eyes off the canvas. “Let’s hear it.”

I forced my mind off the light hum of electricity in my veins and walked toward him. My heels echoed against the polished wooden floors, the sound a welcome reprieve from…other distractions.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I came up beside him as he sketched a set of stools around a curved counter. It wasn’t Picasso, but it was better than anything I could’ve done. Plus, based on the notes he’d scribbled in the top left corner, he wasn’t aiming for artistic expression so much as brainstorming.

Considerations: bar depth/height, backbar space

Flex space for summer/winter

Mark high-traffic areas





My heart stuttered beneath twin blows of realization and surprise.

It wasn’t a living room sketch. It was a blueprint for a bar.

“I mean the scolding.” Xavier shaded in one of the stools, his voice flat and absent of its usual irreverence. “Tell me how I’m supposed to be spending time with my father and making amends instead of shirking my duties. Or how I should be preparing to take over the household after he passes and how I’m heartless for not caring whether he lives or dies.” He moved on to the backbar space of the sketch. “You wouldn’t be the first or last to say those things.”

I should’ve. In any other situation, I would’ve, but something held me back.

It wasn’t my job to police how other people processed their grief—or lack of it—and Xavier’s moodiness bothered me more than I cared to admit.

I hadn’t realized how accustomed I was to his annoying but familiar sunshine optimism until its warmth was gone.

“You never told me you were a designer,” I said, deliberately bypassing the topics he’d mentioned.

His hand paused for the briefest moment before he resumed drawing. “I’m not. This is just something I do to pass the time.”

I picked up a discarded paper ball from the ground and unfolded it. It was a variation of the current sketch. So was the next one I picked up and the one after that. “Interesting. Because to me, it looks like you’re trying to perfect a design.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened. “Is there a reason you broke into my room again, or are you really that bored?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.” The answer slipped out without thought, but it was true.

Despite his faults, Xavier was human. An infuriating one, yes, but he wasn’t malicious or mean-spirited, and there was more to him than the carefree image he portrayed to the world.

Besides, I of all people understood the complexities of a fraught paternal relationship. I could only imagine his struggle with reconciling his personal feelings toward his father and the prospect of losing the only parent he had left.

Xavier finally glanced at me. “Are my ears deceiving me? Is Sloane Kensington checking in on me of her own free will?” A hint of teasing slipped into his tone and restored a sense of normalcy.

Relief pushed the weight off my shoulders. I could deal with an uncooperative Xavier. I didn’t know how to deal with a brooding one.

“Don’t push it.” My voice cooled, but it lacked bite. “I merely want to ensure you don’t do anything stupid. It’s my job.”

Xavier’s eyes lingered on mine for a moment, making my stomach twist in the strangest way, before he returned to the canvas. “I thought your job was dealing with the vultures.”