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

Professor Ehrlich sighed. He was used to my stubbornness, but something in his tone had my gut tightening with unease.

“You do need one,” he said, his voice gentle. “English literature and composition is a core requirement. You already failed it once, and it’s only offered in the fall. If you fail it again this semester, you won’t graduate.”

My pulse spiked, but I kept my expression neutral. “I won’t fail. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

I didn’t understand why I had to take English in the first place. I was going into finance, not goddamn publishing. I was acing my economics classes, and that was what really mattered.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather not risk it.” Professor Ehrlich sighed again. “You have a brilliant mind, Dominic. I’ve never met anyone with such a natural gift for numbers, and I’ve been teaching for decades. But talent will only get you so far. A Thayer degree opens doors, but to get it, you need to play by the rules. You want to make it big on Wall Street? You have to graduate first, and you can’t do that if you insist on choosing your pride over your future.”

My knuckles turned white around the armrests.

Maybe it was the fear of losing when I was so close to the finish line, or maybe it was because Professor Ehrlich was the only teacher who’d ever given a damn about me.

Whatever it was, it forced me to swallow my knee-jerk distaste over his suggestion and relent, at least partly, through gritted teeth.

“Fine. I’ll meet with her once,” I said. “But if I don’t like her, I’m not meeting with her again.”



The following Monday, I showed up at Thayer’s main library, ready to get the meeting over with. It was nearly empty this early in the semester, so it shouldn’t take long to find my tutor among the stacks.

Professor Ehrlich had given us each other’s contact information, and she’d left me a voicemail that morning confirming our appointment.

I’ll be on the second floor wearing a yellow dress. See you soon.

She didn’t sound as chirpy as I’d feared. In fact, her voice was oddly soothing. Rich and creamy, with a gentle calm that wouldn’t be out of place in a yoga studio or a therapist’s office.

Still, I was predisposed to not like her. Professor Ehrlich aside, I didn’t have the best record with anyone in a teaching position.

My eyes landed on a flash of color near the window.

Yellow dress. Coffee and a familiar blue English comp textbook. That had to be Alessandra.

She had her head bent over something on the table, and she didn’t look up even when I pulled out the chair opposite hers. Typical. I’d tried working with a handful of tutors in high school and quickly ditched them when it became clear they were more interested in checking their messages and texting.

I opened my mouth, but my irritation died in my throat when Alessandra finally lifted her head and our eyes met.

Her voice was made for radio, but her face was made for the goddamned silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight. Chestnut hair spilled in thick, silky waves over her tanned shoulders, and her blue-gray eyes sparkled with warmth as she stood and held out her hand.

Thayer was filled with beautiful girls, but there was beautiful, and there was her.

“You must be Dominic,” she said. Somehow, she sounded even better in person. “I’m Alessandra, but my friends call me Ále.”

I finally found my voice. “Hello, Alessandra.” I placed extra emphasis on her full name. We weren’t friends. We just met, and my reaction to her was purely physical. It didn’t mean anything.

“Nice to meet you.” If she was put off by my pointed use of her full name, she didn’t show it.

“Since this is our first meeting and the semester hasn’t fully kicked off yet, I didn’t prepare any study materials,” she said after we settled into our seats. “You’re heartbroken, I’m sure.”

“Inconsolable.”

Alessandra’s quick grin sent an equally quick frisson of warmth through my veins. I shifted, half wishing I’d never showed up and half wishing I’d never have to leave.

“I thought we’d discuss expectations and get to know each other a bit during today’s session,” she said. “Even though this is a formal tutoring partnership, it helps if we like each other.”

One of those types. I should’ve figured. “As long as you don’t ask me to braid your hair,” I said. “Neither of us would be happy.”

Her laugh almost brought a smile to my lips.

Almost.

“No hair braiding, I promise, but I can’t guarantee I won’t show up with cookies every now and then. They’re wonderfully unhealthy and, if things get down to the wire, they work quite well as bribes.” Another grin, another frisson of warmth. “Don’t ask me how I know.”

For the next hour, we discussed our schedules for the semester, Professor Ruth’s irrational love of juxtaposition, and random shit like our favorite music artists and colors. Alessandra also dug deep into my learning habits—what type of environment I preferred; whether I learned best through sound, visuals, or hands-on activities; even what time of day I usually got the most tired.

I’d never paid attention to half those things before and balked at answering, but for someone who resembled a grown-up Disney princess, she was like a damn pit bull with a bone.