King of Pride (Kings of Sin #2) by Ana Huang

And now, the deal that would cement my legacy was in jeopardy because a twenty-four-year-old tech bro couldn’t keep his nose out of cocaine long enough to sign a contract that would’ve made us both legends.

“Go,” Dante said, accurately reading my mood. “Let us know if you need anything.”

I responded with a curt nod, my initial panic rearranging itself into to-do items and checklists. By the time I hit the lobby, I’d already sent flowers to Colin’s hospital room via my assistant, reached out to Rohan’s office to set up a call, and assembled my team for an emergency meeting at the office.

The actions took the edge off my adrenaline, and when I stepped out into the crisp fall air, I’d regained my usual cold, practical clarity.

Colin was in the hospital, but he wasn’t dead. DigiStream was still operational, and Rohan had sat in on all the meetings. I didn’t need to catch him up on the latest developments. He might need more wooing, but the deal was in both our interests. Even someone as stubborn as him could see it.

I might be able to salvage the deal before the holidays after all. If I didn’t, I’d still become CEO.

Everything would be fine.

I reached the main intersection and was about to hail a cab when a familiar laugh hit me square in the chest.

I wasn’t conscious of stopping. All I knew was, one minute, I was moving; the next, I was frozen, watching as Isabella walked toward me. Her face was alight with animation as she talked to the vaguely familiar-looking guy next to her. Her ruby-red coat popped against the black-clad masses teeming on the sidewalk, but even without it, she would’ve been the brightest spot of the day.

She laughed again, and a sliver of something green and unpleasant curled in my chest.

I tensed, awaiting our eventual encounter. She was only a few steps away.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer…

Isabella walked past, still deep in conversation with her companion.

She hadn’t even noticed me.

“Isabella.” Her name came out sharper than I’d intended.

She glanced back, her face blanking for a second like she was trying to remember who I was.

My irritation doubled alongside the suspiciously-like-jealousy-but-couldn’t-possibly-be-jealousy tendrils snaking through my veins.

“Oh! Hi.” The blankness gave way to a surprised smile. “Kai Young outside the Upper East Side. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Miracles happen every day.” I assessed the man beside her with a cool once-over. Late twenties or early thirties. Tall, lanky, with curly brown hair and a distinct European artist vibe amplified by his plaid scarf and ink-stained fingers.

I disliked him on sight.

“This is Leo Agnelli,” Isabella said, following my gaze. “He’s the author of one of my favorite books, The Poison Jar. Have you read it?”

That was why he looked familiar. Leo had been the darling of the literary world a few years ago. He was still well-known, but his two-year hiatus from publishing had stunted his momentum. Rumor had it he was working on a new book, but nothing had been confirmed.

“Yes.”

Isabella was too busy gushing about him to notice my unenthused reply. “I joined a local writing group to see if it would help with my block. Today was my first meeting, so imagine my surprise when Leo showed up!”

“I’m friends with the organizer,” Leo explained. “I’m in town for some meetings, and I dropped by to say hi.”

“Perfect timing.” Isabella’s dimples flashed. “It’s like fate.”

“How fortuitous.” I didn’t understand her excitement over Leo. He was good, but he wasn’t that good.

Unlike most writers who stuck with one or two genres, Leo’s works spanned literary, contemporary, and historical fiction. The Poison Jar was the most introspective piece in his catalog, and Isabella hated lit fic.

They carried on like I hadn’t spoken.

“Are your meetings about your next book?” she asked.

“Some of them,” Leo said with a grin. “I’m working on a travel memoir about the two years I spent abroad.”

So the rumors about a new project were true. Normally, I would’ve texted my books and culture editor with the news, but I was too distracted by the way Isabella’s face lit up at the confirmation.

“Yes! I read your guest column in World Geographic. I can’t believe you went diving in Silfra,” she breathed. “That’s one of my top bucket list items.”

My jaw tensed as she rambled on about his adventures. Personally, I didn’t think they were a big deal. So what if Leo went diving between tectonic plates? He didn’t discover the Silfra Fissure, for Christ’s sake.

Isabella brushed a strand of hair out of her eye. Her tattoo peeked out from the sleeve of her coat, and I tried not to think about tracing its lines and swirls with my tongue.

I had a meeting to get to, but I couldn’t leave her alone with Leo. His timing was too suspicious. He just happened to be in town for meetings? Likely story. What if he was a stalker or, worse, a serial killer?

My phone buzzed with a new message from my assistant informing me the Whidby crisis response team was onsite. I reluctantly pulled my attention away from Isabella and typed out a quick response.

Me: I’ll be a few minutes late, but have them put together an initial crisis plan. Finance, legal, everything. I want bullet points when I arrive.