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

Instead, broad shoulders and lean muscles filled the doorway. My eyes traveled over white cotton and the strong, tanned expanse of his throat to meet a pair of dark blue eyes.

“Did you eat yet?” Dominic asked before I could ask what the hell he was doing at my mom’s apartment at nine in the morning.

“My food’s on the way.”

“Let me guess. Açaí from Mimi Sucos?”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe.” I wasn’t that predictable. Was I?

“Cancel it,” he said with so much self-assurance I almost pulled up the delivery app right then and there. “We’re going somewhere better.”

“Where?” Mimi Sucos had the best açaí in town.

A hint of mischief creased his cheeks, and my heart fluttered with reluctant anticipation. “You’ll see.”



I’d expected Dominic to take me to a fancy brunch spot or a nice beach for a private picnic…and he did.

In Florianópolis.

Located an hour and a half south of Rio by plane, Floripa (as it was known by locals) was a mecca of hidden coves, stunning beaches, and lush hiking trails. Half of it lay on the mainland, the other half on Santa Catarina Island, and it was my favorite place in Brazil along with Bahia.

Dominic’s jet touched down in Floripa two hours after he showed up at my door. A private car met us on the tarmac and whisked us to the city’s most luxurious resort.

“Much better than Mimi’s, isn’t it?” he said as two servers arranged a veritable feast on the table.

We sat on the balcony of the presidential suite overlooking the beach. Sunbathers dotted the white sand like ants, and the wind carried the faint sound of waves and laughter toward us.

“You’re unbelievable.” I shook my head even as my stomach grumbled at the smell of fresh scrambled eggs and straight-out-of-theoven pastries. I’d had a snack on the plane, but there was nothing like a basket of buttery pao de queijo to tempt a girl into carb overload. “This is too much. A simple brunch in Rio would’ve sufficed.”

“Not for our first date.” A light breeze swept past, ruffling Dominic’s hair. He’d acquired a tan since he’d arrived in Brazil, and he looked relaxed and casual in a white T-shirt and shorts. “You deserve the best,” he said simply.

Temptation battled with self-preservation. I should keep my guard up, but it was hard when I was surrounded by the things I loved.

Food. Sea. Sun. Dominic.

I banished the last thought as I grabbed a cheese bread and ripped it in two. Remember. No caving, I warned the butterflies crowding my stomach. I would eat the free food, enjoy the free trip, and leave. That was all.

“It was either Florianópolis or Bahia, but it’s been longer since you’ve visited Floripa.” Dominic nodded a thank you at the servers, who retreated and closed the balcony doors with quiet discretion. “So here we are. We can make a long weekend out of it.”

I drowned the swarming butterflies with a gulp of orange juice and switched topics. “Don’t you need to go back to New York soon? You’ve been gone for a while.”

Except for client meetings, he could do his job remotely, but Dominic liked to know exactly what was happening in his office. Davenport Capital was his kingdom, and he ruled it with an iron fist. I didn’t believe for a second that he’d leave it in others’ hands for this long.

“I’m staying on top of things while I’m here,” he said, confirming my belief.

“Right.”

We ate in silence for a while. It was a tentative quiet, the type that sprouted from uncertainty rather than discomfort. How did you act during a first date with someone you’d been married to for ten years?

Talking about the weather was too mundane; talking about anything else was too dangerous. Every time I opened my mouth to make conversation, something about the topic reminded me of us.

Hiking trails in Florianópolis reminded me of the time we’d hiked in upstate New York.

The latest action blockbuster reminded me of our popcornfueled Fast and Furious marathons during the early days of our relationship.

My mother’s Instagram stories from her honeymoon in Fiji reminded me of our honeymoon in Jamaica. We couldn’t afford anything fancy back then, so we’d rented a cozy, semi-rundown cottage by the ocean and spent the week swimming, eating, and having sex. It’d been one of the best weeks of my life.

Aching nostalgia threaded its way through my heartstrings. I’d told Dominic there was no use living in the past, but I’d give anything to turn back time so I could savor our happy days second by second.

That was the irony of life. People always reminisced about the good old days, but we never appreciated living in those days until they were gone.

“I ran into my brother recently,” Dominic said, his voice quiet.

My head jerked up at his abrupt and unexpected shift in tone. He’d had many foster siblings growing up, but there was only one he’d ever referred to as his brother.

“Roman?”

Dominic rarely talked about his family. I knew his father was dead, his mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, and he’d hated every foster home he’d been placed in. He’d mentioned he and Roman had been close before the latter went to juvie for arson, but that was about it.

“Yes. I ran into him at the bar after you left the bathroom…” My cheeks heated at the reminder of what we’d done in said bathroom. “And he was at the Le Boudoir opening.”