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

Do we have time for a second round? The real meaning behind my question wasn’t lost on either of us.

Heat darkened his eyes, followed by a rueful smile. “I have a conference call in half an hour. Last one before the holiday. Apparently, it’s the only time that works for everyone.”

He was turning down sex for a business call?

I tried not to look too insulted.

“We’ll talk next week when we have more time,” Kai said. “This was…that is, I didn’t expect…” He faltered, looking so adorably flustered that I couldn’t hold on to my annoyance.

He was right. The day before Thanksgiving wasn’t the best time for a deep dive on whatever we had. He’d fingered me in the piano room of the club where I worked, for Christ’s sake—the same club that would throw me out on my ass and blackball me if people found out what happened.

I needed time to think about what to do next when I wasn’t riding a post-orgasmic high.

The inklings of dread returned. How did I always find myself in these situations?

By making bad decisions, a voice sang in my head. By never having a plan and ending up in places you don’t want to be.

I didn’t bother refuting it. I couldn’t if I tried.

“Makes sense.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling unsure. Our tension had exploded spectacularly after weeks, maybe even months, of buildup, and now we had to deal with the aftermath. The problem was, I always sucked at cleanup. I was forever getting into messes with no vision of how to get myself out.

Kai and I lapsed into silence as we finished straightening the room and ourselves out. He seemed as lost for words as I was, though he could just be mentally prepping for his call, I thought sourly.

I exited the room first, but I didn’t make it two steps before I came to an abrupt halt. My stomach dropped several inches.

There was someone in the hall.

Tall, broad, and utterly terrifying, the behemoth of a man stared down at me, his face expressionless. His eyes were an icy, unsettling blue, so pale they were almost colorless. His dark hair was cropped short, and a vicious scar slashed diagonally across his face from eyebrow to chin, bisecting it into two otherwise flawless halves. If it weren’t for the scar and those shiver-inducing eyes, he could’ve made a killing as a model with those cheekbones.

My gaze dipped, and a jolt ran through me at the sight of thick red burns twisting around his neck like a rope. Unlike the flat coldness of his stare, the burns seemed to pulse with rage under my scrutiny, as if they were seconds away from leaping off his skin and strangling me.

An answering pressure wrapped around my throat. The amount of pain he must’ve endured to get those scars…

His eyes sharpened into icicles. I expected him to call me out on my admittedly rude staring, but he simply gave Kai a curt nod before stepping around me and disappearing around the corner.

The encounter had lasted less than twenty seconds, yet the icy touch of his glare shivered on my skin.

“Who was that?” Whoever it was, he was definitely a club member—and he’d seen me and Kai exit the piano room together.

My heart thudded with panic.

“Vuk Markovic, better known as the Serb. He doesn’t like people using his given name.” Kai didn’t elaborate, but his tone told me there was more to the story than he was letting on. “Don’t worry about him. He won’t say anything. He keeps to himself.”

I chose to believe him, if only for the sake of my sanity.

I glanced over my shoulder as we walked toward the stairs. The hall was empty, yet I couldn’t shake the chill crawling over the back of my neck—the type you got when someone was watching you.





CHAPTER 16


Kai



I spent my Thanksgiving weekend in a hotel, alternating between work and Isabella. Specifically, fantasizing about Isabella while trying to work.

I had a multibillion-dollar deal on the line, and all I could think about was the woman who’d crashed into my life and blown it into a thousand smithereens.

The kiss. The piano room. The two best and worst decisions of my life.

Even now, days later, my mind echoed with Isabella’s cries as she came all over my hand. I’d attended countless symphonies, orchestras, and performances headlined by the best and brightest in the music world, but no song had ever sounded as sweet.

“You’re not even paying attention.” Dante’s irritated voice sliced through the memory like jagged glass through silk.

“Hmm?”

He threw an exasperated stare my way. “I’m trying to help you, asshole. The least you can do is listen. Isn’t that why we’re having this meeting?”

We’d arranged a brainstorm in his office over lunch. Outside our weekly boxing matches, where we had free rein to pummel each other as much as we liked, we often consulted each other on business matters. Granted, I couldn’t take his advice half the time because his solutions bordered on illegal, but it was nice to have an objective third-party sounding board.

“No. I simply missed your cheerful, optimistic personality.” I lifted my water in a mock toast. “You brighten my day.”

“Fuck off.” He snorted, but a shadow of a smile played over his mouth. “Mishra still refusing to meet with you?”

“So far, but he’ll cave.” Colin Whidby was still in the hospital, but his condition had stabilized. He’d pull through. The problem was, he wouldn’t be back on his feet for another few months. The longer we waited, the greater the chance of something going wrong.