King of Greed (Kings of Sin #3) by Ana Huang

CHAPTER 8



Alessandra




“I HAVE TO RUN TO A MEETING, BUT MAKE YOURSELF AT home,” Sloane said. “Just remember the house rules. No smoking, no shoes on the carpet, and no feeding The Fish outside of the prescribed hours and amounts, which are taped to the table next to his bowl. Any questions?”

“No. All sounds good.” I mustered a small smile. “Thanks again for letting me stay here while I figure things out. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Out of all my friends—of which there were only three or four total, but that was an issue for another day—Sloane was the least warm and fuzzy. However, both Vivian and Isabella lived with their significant others, and despite her general lack of visible emotion, Sloane always went to bat for her friends.

I was tired of living in a hotel, and she hadn’t hesitated when I’d asked if I could stay with her while I went apartment hunting. And she’d greeted my arrival with a mug of coffee, a stiff hug, and a Karambit knife wrapped with a bow—for basic defense or offense, depending on how pissed I was at Dominic, she explained.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sloane’s face softened the tiniest smidge. “We’ll get drinks later. You and I can bitch about men while Viv and Isa pretend they’re not in sickeningly sweet relationships.”

My laugh came out rusty but genuine. “It’s a plan.”

It’d been a week since I told Dominic I wanted a divorce. None of my friends seemed surprised by my decision to leave him, which said all there was to say about how other people perceived our relationship.

My phone lit up with an incoming call.

Dominic. Again. He’d been calling nonstop over the past week, and every time his name popped up, it was a fresh stab in my chest. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to block him yet, so I let his calls roll to voicemail. I haven’t listened to any of them since the first one; it hurt too much.

“What do you mean he’s in Mykonos?” Sloane’s quiet fury chilled the air as she left for her meeting. As a high-powered publicist who ran her own boutique public relations firm, she was always putting out fires for her clients. “That is unacceptable. He knows he should be here for the meeting…”

Her voice faded, followed by the slam of the front door. Dominic’s call also ended, and I breathed a sigh of relief only to tense again when another incoming call rolled right into his missed one.

Pearson, Hodder, and Blum.

Waves of anxiety buffeted my stomach. I wasn’t sure what was worse—hearing from my husband or from my divorce attorney.

“Alessandra, this is Cole Pearson.” The deep voice settled some of my nerves. Cole was one of the top divorce attorneys in the country. He cost an arm and a leg, but he was the only one who stood a chance against Dominic’s fleet of high-powered lawyers.

“Hi.” I put him on speaker while I unpacked my suitcase. I needed something to do with my hands or I’d dissolve into an even bigger mess. “How did it go?”

The waves intensified as I waited for his answer.

I’d filed for divorce a few days ago and, in true Cole fashion, he’d expedited the process so he could serve Dominic the papers today. I wanted to get the divorce over with quickly before I lost my nerve or he somehow convinced me to go back.

Most days, I was sure I was doing the right thing, but there were other days when I woke up in an empty bed and missed him so much, it hurt to breathe. I haven’t been happy for a while, but I couldn’t forget eleven years together just like that.

“We served him the papers,” Cole said. “As expected, he refused to sign.”

I closed my eyes. Knowing Dominic, he would drag this out for as long as possible. He had the money and power to tie us up in the courts for years, and the thought of sitting in limbo for that long made me nauseous.

“Luckily, we have provisions for that.” Cole didn’t sound too worried, which made me feel slightly better. “We’ll push the divorce through one way or another, but I want you to be prepared. This is Dominic Davenport. It could get ugly.”

“Even though we don’t have children and I don’t want any of his assets?” The penthouse, the cars, the jet. Dominic could have it all. I just wanted out.

“The problem isn’t the assets, Mrs. Davenport,” Cole said. “It’s you. He doesn’t want to let you go, and unless you can convince him otherwise, it’s going to be a long fight.”



“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Davenport is in meetings all day.” Dominic’s assistant, Martha, sounded only marginally apologetic. “However, I can take a message and have him— ”

“It’s an emergency.” My fingers tightened around my bag strap. “I’d like to speak to my husband directly.” I emphasized the second to last word. It didn’t matter that he would be my ex-husband soon if I had my way; as long as we were married, I had certain perks, which should include seeing him without his assistant treating me like I was a vagrant who’d wandered in off the street.

Her eyes swept over me, probably taking in my lack of visible injuries and physical distress. “I understand, but I’m afraid he’s booked back-to-back. Like I said, I’m happy to take a message and have him call you back at his earliest convenience.” She ripped a Post-It note off the pad on her desk. “Is this related to a social event or some sort of home issue?”