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

I was glad we hadn’t. As much as I wanted a son or daughter, I would’ve basically raised them alone, and I didn’t want any of my children to feel neglected.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” I rose and walked to the door while Sloane and Isabella continued to bombard Vivian with questions.

A twenty-something guy in a white polo shirt greeted me. “Alessandra Ferreira?” He carried a small, gift-wrapped box in his hands.

“That’s me.” A line of puzzlement dug between my brows. I hadn’t ordered anything.

“Sign here, please.” He handed me a tablet.

I scribbled my signature and, too curious to wait, tore open the wrapping paper immediately after he left. The white box underneath contained no hint of what was inside, but when I opened it, my heart came to an utter standstill.



“You brought me a present on our first date? You must really like me,” I teased, taking the gift bag from Dominic’s hand.

A hint of color glazed his cheekbones. “It’s not for the date. It’s for the semester.”

“What…” My sentence trailed off when I retrieved the item. The cheerful white mug had a gold handle and a red apple stamped with the words “World’s Best Teacher” in bold black.

Emotion crested in my throat.

No tutee had ever bought me anything beyond a Starbucks gift card. It was so unlike Dominic, both in sentiment and in product, that it rendered me speechless.

He must’ve mistaken my silence for displeasure because his color deepened.

“I know it’s cheesy, and you’re a tutor, not a teacher,” Dominic said stiffly. “But you said your favorite mug broke a few weeks ago and…fuck. Never mind.” He reached for it. “I’ll return it. You don’t— ”

“No!” I clutched the mug protectively to my chest. “I love it. Don’t you dare try to take it back, Dominic Davenport, because I’m keeping it forever.”



That turned out to be untrue. The original mug broke during our move to New York. I’d been devastated, but the one in my hands was an exact replica of the one he’d gifted me on our first date, down to the apple and “World’s Best Teacher” font.

Our first date. December 21, aka today. It was the first anniversary of ours that I’d forgotten. I’d been too distracted by the mess at the store and the complications of our current relationship.

I picked up the handwritten note tucked beneath the mug with a trembling hand.

I’ll always think of you on this day.

There was no signature, but it didn’t need one. The dark, messy scrawl was unmistakably Dominic’s.

Pressure built behind my eyes.

“What is that?” Isabella asked. My friends had fallen silent and were eyeing me with curiosity.

I placed the note back in the box and closed it.

“Nothing,” I said. I blinked past the blur in my vision and forced a smile. “It’s nothing at all.”





CHAPTER 30



Alessandra




AFTER ISABELLA AND VIVIAN LEFT AND SLOANE RETIRED for the night, I wedged into the back of my closet, took out my phone, and messaged the guy I’d matched with on the dating app. He messaged back immediately, and by the following afternoon, I had a date for Tuesday night.

It happened so fast it made my head spin, which was exactly what I wanted. If I thought too hard, I’d sink into the pool of guilt puddling in my stomach. I’d made it clear I wanted to date other people, and Dominic had agreed. I had no reason to feel guilty, but it was difficult to shed old ways of thinking.

He’s not yours anymore. You’re free.

One day, my feelings would catch up with my logic. Until then, I forced myself to give my upcoming date a fair chance.

Dalton was charming, well-educated, and handsome in a generic Ralph Lauren model sort of way. He’d just moved to New York from Australia and worked in “business,” a vague descriptor that hinted at a possible trust fund background, but other than that, our text conversations were perfectly lovely.

“You look great,” Sloane said on Tuesday. “Stop worrying and have fun.”

“It’s my first real date in eleven years.” I didn’t count my dinner with Aiden, which fell in the gray zone somewhere between platonic and romantic. “What if I embarrass myself? Or we run out of things to talk about? Do people kiss on first dates nowadays, or am I supposed to wait for the third?”

I fiddled with my necklace. Dalton was taking me to a gala uptown—“much nicer than getting drinks at a bar,” he’d assured me—and I’d dressed for the occasion in a midnight silk gown and gold jewelry. It seemed like overkill for our first date, but I supposed it was better than shouting to be heard over Christmas bar music.

Sloane placed her hands on my shoulders. “Stop. Breathe,” she ordered. I did, simply because one never said no to Sloane Kensington. She would make a great military general if she ever felt so inclined. “You’ll be fine. First dates are meant to be a little awkward. Just go, have fun, and if things truly go off the rails, call me.”

“Right. Okay.” I sucked in a deep breath. I can do this. I was an adult; I wasn’t going to run to my friend at the first sign of trouble. “Wait, where are you going tonight? I thought you had work.”