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

She was interrupted again, this time by the buzz of my phone.

Parker. Speak of the devil.

My stomach plummeted further. “Hold that thought.” I sucked in a lungful of air and braced myself. “Hello?”

So. Dead.

“Isabella.” My supervisor’s voice clinked over the line like jagged ice cubes. There wasn’t a trace of her usual warmth. “Please report to Valhalla as soon as possible. We need to talk.”

Half an hour later, I walked into the Valhalla Club’s executive office with a pile of concrete blocks in my stomach.

Reserved for the reigning head of the managing committee, which rotated between sitting members every three years, the mahogany-paneled office resembled a cross between a Georgian library and a cathedral. A massive dark desk dominated the far end of the room.

Vuk Markovic sat behind it with the stiff posture of a displeased general surveying his troops. He must be the current head of the committee. I didn’t pay attention to club politics, so I didn’t even know who the committee members were besides Kai and Dante—both of whom, I noticed with a jolt, were seated across the desk from Vuk. They occupied the chairs on the right; Parker sat on the left, her face tight.

Every pair of eyes swiveled toward me when I entered.

Self-consciousness prickled my skin. I avoided Kai’s gaze as I walked over, afraid any eye contact would unleash the pressure building in my chest.

“Isabella.” Parker nodded at the chair next to her. “Sit.” She was the lowest-ranked person in the room, but she kicked off the meeting by cutting straight to the chase. “Do you know why you’re here?”

I tucked my hands beneath my thighs and swallowed a lump of dread. There was no use playing dumb. “Because of the photos in the National Star.”

Parker glanced at Vuk. Those pale, eerie eyes watched me with unnerving focus, but he didn’t say a word.

“The club has a strict non-fraternization rule between members and employees,” Parker said when he didn’t speak up. “It is clearly stated in your employment contract, which you signed upon being hired. Any violation of said rule—”

“We weren’t fraternizing.” Kai’s even voice cut off the rest of her sentence. “Isabella and I have mutual friends. We see each other often outside the club. Dante can attest to that.”

My head jerked, unbidden, in his direction. He kept his attention on Parker, but I could practically feel the tendrils of comfort wrapping around me.

A messy knot of emotion tangled in my throat.

“It’s true.” Dante sounded bored. “Kai and I are friends. Isabella and my wife are best friends. You do the math.”

I wasn’t sure why he was here. Kai, I could understand since this involved him too. Maybe Dante was a character witness? We technically weren’t on trial, though I felt like we were.

Either way, I was grateful for his support, even as guilt wormed through my gut. Kai and I had wittingly broken the rules, and now other people were being dragged into it.

Parker paused, clearly trying to figure out how to respond without being taken for an idiot—the photos revealed far more intimacy than that between casual acquaintances—or pissing off her employers.

“With all due respect, Mr. Young, you and Isabella were alone in those photos,” she said carefully. “You were spotted holding hands—”

“I was simply guiding her over a rough patch of ground,” Kai said, his tone so smooth and confident it almost concealed the absurdity of his excuse. “We met several times over the holidays to plan a surprise party for Vivian’s birthday.”

“You were planning a surprise party for Vivian Russo on Coney Island?” Parker asked doubtfully.

A short but pregnant pause saturated the room.

“She likes Ferris wheels,” Dante said.

Another, longer pause.

Parker glanced at Vuk again in an obvious plea for help. He didn’t answer. Now that I thought about it, I’d never heard the man utter a single word.

It didn’t escape my notice that I was the one in the hot seat even though Kai and I were both in the wrong. But he was a rich, powerful VIP and I wasn’t. The difference in treatment was expected, if not necessarily fair.

“The photos aren’t proof we broke the non-fraternization rule,” Kai said. “It’s the National Star, not the New York Times. Their last issue claimed the government is harvesting alien eggs in Nebraska. They have no credibility.”

Parker’s mouth thinned.

My guilt thickened into sludge. I liked my supervisor. She’d always been good to me, and she’d kept my secret all this time. I hated putting her in such a tough position.

“I understand, sir,” she said. “But we simply can’t let the matter go unaddressed. The other members—”

“Let me worry about the other members,” Kai said. “I’ll—”

“No. She’s right.” My quiet interruption ground their argument to a halt. My heartbeat clanged with uncertainty, but I forged ahead before I lost my nerve. “I knew the rules, and the details don’t matter. What matters is how it looks, and it doesn’t look good, for us or the club.”

Kai stared at me. What are you doing?

The silent message echoed loud and clear in my head. I ignored it, though a warm ache twisted my heart at how adamantly he was trying to defend me. He didn’t lie, but he had. For me.