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

I fell into step beside him and deliberately focused on the impressive foyer instead of the man beside me.

I’d visited Valhalla as a guest a few times, but its splendor never failed to amaze. Gourmet restaurants, a Regency-worthy ballroom, a world-class spa, a helipad in case a member was arriving by air, and an exclusive slip at Chelsea Piers in case they were arriving by water—no detail went unchecked.

“True, but then I wouldn’t get to see you.” Xavier’s dimples made a dazzling appearance.

The heat spread from my cheeks to my neck. I’d never had a problem thinking clearly when he was around, but a dangerous haze permeated my brain as we ascended the staircase to the second floor.

I blamed my friends. They’d put the stupid idea of a kiss in my head, and now I couldn’t stop picturing the press of his lush, sensual mouth against mine and the—

No, stop it. This is deeply inappropriate behavior.

“Stop flirting and get to the point,” I snapped for my benefit as much as his. I deliberately kept a foot of distance between us, but my nerve endings sparked and sizzled like live wires in the rain. “What are the quote unquote ‘important updates’?”

God, I shouldn’t have worn this stupid dress. I was roasting in cashmere.

“I’ve decided what I want to do.” We stopped in front of carved-oak double doors. Xavier turned the knobs, the lean muscles of his arms flexing at the movement. Stop noticing his arms. “I’m opening a nightclub.”

The doors swung open noiselessly, revealing a gorgeous library that put the one from Beauty and the Beast to shame. Normally, it’d be heaven, but my feet remained rooted to the hall.

A line etched between Xavier’s brows. “Sloane?”

“A nightclub,” I repeated. My heart beat double time. “That’s brilliant.”

If there was one thing he knew and knew well, it was parties. Entertainment. And his bar-design sketches…the answer had been obvious all along.

“Yeah? You think so?” Vulnerability touched his face for a moment before retreating behind a smile. “It’s actually a mixed concept. Kind of like Legends except less sports oriented.”

Legends was a well-known nightspot owned by former college football star and Heisman winner Blake Ryan, and it was the preferred watering hole for many top athletes.

“I love that,” I said honestly. As an unapologetic multitasker, I appreciated anything that served multiple functions.

“Come on. I want to show you something.” Xavier led me deeper into the library, which was nearly empty this late at night. On any other day, I would’ve been enraptured by the forest of leather-bound books and rare stained-glass windows, but I was too intrigued by Xavier’s plan.

We stopped at a massive table anchoring the center of the room. A spill of papers scattered across the mahogany surface, and I recognized Xavier’s distinctive scrawl from several feet away. “I’ve been here since the afternoon,” he said. “I ran into Kai at the bar, and our conversation got me thinking…” He handed me a printout of the top ten clubs in the world. “What do these have in common?”

“Music and alcohol?”

Xavier fixed me with a wry stare. “Besides that.”

“I have no idea.” I knew enough to do my job, but I wasn’t a nightlife aficionado.

“Interesting locations. Signature features. A tightly targeted clientele. And yes, great music and drinks.” Xavier tapped the printout, his eyes brightening the more he talked. “This is Manhattan. Nightspots come and go every week. To stand out, you need something that makes people talk. Something they haven’t seen before that they’ll automatically associate with you.” His voice lowered. “Picture it, Luna. A club that’s tucked away, hidden behind an unassuming door—the type you walk past every day without a second thought. But when you walk in… it’s a different world. You don’t just hear the thump of the bass; you feel it in your bones. The music, the rhythm, the laughter. The lights are low, and you can practically smell the pheromones in the air.” His words took on a hypnotic cadence, transforming the stately library around us into a den of hedonism—of sensual touches, insistent beats, and beautiful bodies grinding against each other amidst a backdrop of velvet and liquor.

My breath shortened. Blood rushed to the surface of my skin, warming it to an uncomfortable degree. I was suddenly hyperaware of Xavier’s proximity, and when he spoke again, the velvety timbre sent a shot of pure dopamine through my system.

“Everyone around you is lost in the intoxication of the moment,” he said softly. “There are no worries, only wants. Every corner is an opportunity for clandestine meetings; every drink is another step away from the real world. That’s the true secret to a memorable nightclub. The minute you step inside, you’re not in a club; you’re in a place where anything can happen with anyone.” His voice lowered even further. “Whatever your greatest desire, you have a chance to realize it. All you have to do is let go.”

All you have to do is let go.

Call me delusional, but I could’ve sworn he wasn’t talking about the club anymore.

His gaze rained embers on my face, dark and hot and knowing. My head swam like I’d downed half a dozen of the drinks he’d mentioned, and though we were still at Valhalla, surrounded by serious-looking men and women in suits, my senses ignited like we were somewhere else. Somewhere secluded, where we—