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

“I’m sorry, amor, but the investor is only in town tonight,” I said. “He heads one of the biggest insurance companies in the country. If I can get him onboard…”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Alessandra gave me a soft, reassuring kiss. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

Guilt loosened its grip on my muscles. “I will. I promise.”

It was my first time missing our sacred Friday date night. I hated letting her down, but I needed investors and snagging Wollensky would be a huge coup.

One of these days, the whole world would know the name Dominic Davenport, and with recognition came status, money, power—everything I’d ever dreamed of. Once that happened, I could make it up to Alessandra a thousand times over.

“If you miss next week’s date, though, we’ll have a problem,” she teased, chasing away images of private jets and black Amex cards. “I practically had to pledge my firstborn to get a reservation at Le Fleur.”

I laughed. “I’m sure our firstborn will understand.” I curled an arm around her waist and pulled her closer for another kiss. “Thank you for understanding,” I murmured. “This is just one time. It won’t happen again.”

Except it had. Just one time turned into two, then three, until we entered a new normal. I’d assumed she was okay with it because she rarely expressed otherwise except for that one time with the counseling. But the way she got quieter and quieter over the years, the way she left events early when she wasn’t hosting them and utter lack of surprise when I canceled plans…

Waves of realization crashed over me, stunning me into near immobility. Fuck.

“Like I said, lifestyle and mindset shift.” Kai read my expression like a book. He lifted his glass to his lips and arched an eyebrow. “The question is, are you willing to do it?”





CHAPTER 10



Alessandra




FATE SMACKED ME IN THE FACE WITH A GIANT RED SIGN. RETAIL SPACE FOR LEASE.

The sign was plastered over the window of a tiny storefront in NoMad, tucked between a cafe and a nail salon.

I’d passed plenty of for lease signs on my way back from another day of unsuccessful apartment hunting, but for some reason, this one screamed at me. Maybe it was the quiet street, the giant windows, and the exposed brick walls I spied inside. Or maybe it was my frustration over the standstill in divorce proceedings and desire to do something. To find a piece of myself that didn’t revolve around my marriage.

Whatever it was, it compelled me to call the number on the sign and leave a voicemail requesting more information.

Dominic could stall all he wanted, but I wasn’t putting my life on hold for him anymore. Cole could deal with the divorce while I started building a new life—one where I had control over my own finances and future.

“I’m free any day,” I said after I left the requisite contact information. Does that make me sound too desperate? Normal people didn’t sit around all day waiting for a phone call, right? “Any day between nine and five,” I added hastily. Much better. “I look forward to hearing from you soon. Thank you.”

I hung up, my palms clammy.

This was it. My first step toward independence. Well, besides moving out, which didn’t fully count because I didn’t have my own place yet and most of my belongings were still at the penthouse. I couldn’t bring myself to return to Hudson Yards and pack up yet.

The early October air cooled some of my nerves as I cut across the street toward Sloane’s apartment. I’d started Floria Designs two years ago on a whim, and it’d blossomed into a small yet thriving business. It wasn’t raking in millions or anything, but it earned a solid profit and I enjoyed the work. However, now that I was stepping out on my own, it was time to take it to the next level.

I wanted to take control and create my own future; I didn’t want to be someone who put herself last.

My phone rang when I entered the lobby of Sloane’s building. My heart skipped a beat, but instead of the Realtor calling me back, the name was a familiar one.

“You never call, you never text. It’s like I don’t exist anymore,” Marcelo said when I picked up. His teasing tone brought a smile to my lips. “What happened to sibling loyalty?”

“I’m not the one setting impossible culinary standards for the rich and famous,” I said. “How can anyone eat another steak after they’ve tasted yours?”

“Ah, flattery. It’ll work on me every time.” My brother laughed. He was two years my junior and already one of the most celebrated chefs in São Paulo’s dining scene. We chatted for a few minutes about work and his need for a vacation before he asked, “When are you visiting again? I haven’t seen you and Dom in ages.”

My smile faded. I hadn’t told my family about my separation yet. One, it was hard enough to track down my mother on a regular day. Two, I only saw them once or twice a year. They had no idea I was unhappy in my marriage, and I couldn’t summon the energy to detail the reasons behind the separation yet.

“Ále?” Marcelo prompted when I remained silent. “You okay?”

“Yes, I— ” My response abruptly cut off when the elevator doors slid open.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.