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

A muscle twitched beneath my eye. Do not take the bait. “I’m not here to have fun.” It came out as a near growl.

“Obviously.” Xavier gave me another once-over. “It’s too bad you’re wasting a perfectly nice dress on such a boring end to the night. Speaking of which, how did your date feel about you leaving early?”

“They felt it was in their best interest to do as I say.” I stepped harder on his foot, a smile flashing at his renewed grimace. “Since I’m having such a boring night, I’m tempted to spice things up. Of course, I can’t guarantee my idea of a fun time matches yours—especially when you’re surrounded by your friends, and the chances of embarrassment are high.” My smile disappeared. “Rest assured, I will drag you out of here like you’re an insolent child throwing a temper tantrum, and no, I do not care if I’m the one who has to clean up the mess afterward. It would be worth it for the shit you’ll get from your friends for the rest of your days. So unless you want that to happen, get the hell up.”

Xavier listened to my tirade without a hint of concern. After I finished, he yawned, stretched his other arm over the back of the banquette, and cast a pointed glance at the heel impaling his five-thousand-dollar shoe. “Can’t get up unless you let me go, sweetheart.”

I didn’t take my eyes off him as I released him, suspicious of his sudden obeisance.

He unfolded himself from the banquette and stared down at me, a glint of amusement reentering his eyes. Even when I wore my Jimmy Choos, he towered over me by a good three inches.

I hated it.

“In my defense, I did fulfill my end of our deal,” he said. “Like I said, the ceremony and gala are two different things. The ceremony ended when Eduardo finished his speech, which also happened to be when you left. So don’t try to use it as an excuse to back out of our vacation.”

“That’s semantics.”

“Maybe,” he drawled. “But it’s also the truth.”

“And what about your promise not to go clubbing until we fixed your image?”

“My image was fixed. There hasn’t been a single bad story about me for weeks.” Xavier’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “You never specified your definition of a ‘fixed image,’ Luna. It’s not my fault if we have different ideas of what that means.”

God, he was insufferable. Even more annoying was the fact he was right, but I would rather throw myself off Big Ben than admit it. “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 ignored the sexual innuendo and turned on my heel. He followed me to the exit without saying goodbye to his friends.

I didn’t know if he’d tired of arguing with me or if I’d genuinely scared him with the threat of embarrassment—I doubted it—but the reasons for his about-face didn’t matter. The only things that mattered were if he listened to me and stayed out of trouble.

“What’s the story behind the bracelet?” he asked on our way down the elevator.

“Excuse me?”

“The bracelet.” Xavier tipped his chin toward the friendship bracelet on my wrist. “You weren’t wearing that at the gala.”

My muscles coiled. Only my best friends knew about my visits to Pen, and there was no way I was adding him to that trusted circle.

“It was a gift.” I didn’t elaborate.

“Hmm.” A shadow of knowing passed over his face. For someone who’d been drinking all night, he was shockingly observant.

Luckily, he didn’t press the issue, and we walked the remaining distance to the main exit in silence.

However, I should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

“New terms,” he said when we climbed into the back seat of a cab. “You can’t be such a buzzkill when we’re on vacation.”

“Then don’t take me with you.” I answered a work email about a potential new client without looking up. It was still business hours in New York.

“Nice try. For someone who’s stalking me, you don’t seem to like my company much.” He placed a hand on his chest with a mock-wounded look. “It hurts my soul. Truly.”

“What would hurt more is getting cut off.”

Xavier was set to inherit billions of dollars if and when his father died. However, his current income came from an extravagant annual allowance that would immediately cease if he violated one of the two terms: 1) He must retain me as his publicist, and 2) He couldn’t do anything that damaged the family reputation.

There was a three strikes policy for the second condition, and somehow, I was in charge of determining whether Xavier was in compliance. He’d raised holy hell when he first found out about it, but he’d settled into grudging acceptance since.

I didn’t abuse my power. However, I was this close to adding a second strike to his record (the first had been his twenty-ninth birthday in Miami).

“Maybe,” Xavier said, sounding unconcerned. “Regardless, you can’t do that on vacation.” He nodded at my phone.

“What, check my emails?”

“Exactly. A vacation isn’t a vacation if you’re working the entire time.”

I scoffed. “If you think I’m spending an entire week without checking my emails, you’re more delusional than I thought. I run a business, Xavier, and if you want me in Spain, then you’ll agree to my terms.”