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

An olive branch from my father. The idea was so absurd I wanted to laugh, but Eduardo wasn’t wrong. My father could’ve cut me off. It would’ve been his last big fuck you before passing.

I thought he’d changed my inheritance terms so he could manipulate me into doing what he wanted even after his death. That was definitely part of it, but…maybe there was more to the story.

Or maybe I’m naive and delusional.

“He didn’t sound like he’d had any change of heart during our last conversation,” I said.

Grow up, Xavier. It’s time for you to be useful for once.

My phone slipped in my grip before I tightened it.

“I’m not saying he was a saint. He had his pride, and I also suspect he thought you would’ve rebuffed any overtures he made. The last thing a dying man wants is another fight with his son,” Eduardo pointed out. “You don’t have to take everything I said as gospel. Those are my conjectures, not the hard truth. But allow yourself the possibility that it is true, and let that be your closure. Your father is gone, Xavier, but you’re still here. You can hold on to your grudge forever and let it consume you, or you can put the past where it belongs and move forward.”

Eduardo’s words echoed long after I hung up.

My first instinct was to reject his interpretation of events. I loved him like a father more than I did my own, but he was too biased when it came to his oldest friend and business partner.

However, what he’d said made a strange, twisted sort of sense, and it scared the crap out of me. I’d clung to my resentment toward my father as a lifeboat through the storms of our relationship. Without it, I might drown beneath a sea of regrets and what-ifs.

Billows of uncertainty followed me out of the vault and onto the street, where they dissipated beneath an onslaught of noise and activity. I knew they would coalesce again when I was alone, but for now, I happily pushed them to the side as I walked to my lunch date with Sloane.

People could say whatever they wanted about the city, but it provided distractions like no other.

Sloane was already waiting for me at the restaurant when I arrived. It was her turn to pick, and she’d chosen a tiny family-run restaurant nestled in the heart of Koreatown. It smelled incredible.

“Sorry I’m late.” I gave her a soft kiss hello before taking the seat opposite hers. “Eduardo called, and our conversation ran long.”

“It’s okay. I got here not too long ago.” Her eyes sharpened with knowing. “Did he call about your inheritance?”

“Sort of.” I gave her a brief summary of our conversation.

When I finished, her face had softened with sympathy. “How are you feeling about what he said?”

“I don’t know.” I blew out a long breath. There was one thing my mother had forgotten to tell me in her letter: how complicated life got when we grew up. Every year on earth added another layer of twists and drama.

Life was easy when there was only black and white. It was when the line between them blurred that things got murkier.

“I’m conflicted,” I said. “The easy path is to continue hating my father, but I have to…I can’t think about that right now. There’s too much going on. Speaking of which, I have something for you.” I slid a manila envelope across the table. Christian Harper had had it hand delivered by messenger this morning, and I’d been carrying it around all day. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”

Thankfully, Sloane didn’t call me out on my obvious deflection of topic. She opened the envelope and scanned the documents, her eyes widening with each word.

When she finished, her gaze snapped up to mine. “Xavier,” she breathed. “How did you…?”

“I know someone who specializes in information retrieval.” I tapped the envelope. “Pen’s still in the city, she hasn’t had any major health issues, and she’s with a new nanny. Hopefully, that means George and Caroline aren’t planning on shipping her abroad.”

It wasn’t much, but I hoped it was enough to put Sloane’s mind at ease. Sometimes, uncertainty was worse than the pain of any knowledge.

“Hopefully.” Sloane’s eyes gleamed bright with emotion. “Thank you. This was…you didn’t…anyway.” She cleared her throat and slid the papers documenting Pen’s whereabouts and well-being back into their envelope. Pink decorated her cheeks and neck. “You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it. Truly.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.”

Our gazes lingered, the noise from the restaurant fading beneath the weight of unspoken words.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, throwing shadows beneath her cheekbones and highlighting the fine blond strands framing her face. The glacial-blue pools shielding her eyes cracked, revealing a sliver of vulnerability that grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed.

She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. I wondered if she knew that.

I wondered if she knew how much she occupied my thoughts and how I counted down the minutes to seeing her again when we were apart.

I wondered if I’d upended her life the way she had mine, to the point where the pieces would no longer fit if she weren’t there, because she wasn’t a pit stop; she was the destination.

The bullet from earlier dug deeper.