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

It should’ve hurt, but adrenaline blunted the impact. I shook it off and returned his hit with one of my own. The vicious hook caught him high on the chest, eliciting a pained grunt.

Perspiration coated my face and torso. We’d been at it for over an hour. My muscles screamed with agony, and the scent of blood, sweat, and testosterone clogged my nostrils. Once my adrenaline crashed, I was going to be out for at least a day.

I’d worry about that later. For now, I narrowed my focus onto beating Dante and off of a certain meeting in London. Neither the current CEO nor the candidates were allowed in the room during deliberations, so I was flying blind until the election committee announced their decision.

I landed another punch on Dante’s cheek; he caught me in the ribs.

Again and again, the familiar rhythm of our jabs and hooks was almost enough to drive the vote to the back of my mind.

Almost.

“You could’ve saved yourself the torture of waiting if you’d used what I gave you,” he panted, dodging an uppercut. “I literally delivered the position to you on a silver platter. Or in a manila envelope, if we’re being technical.”

It was the first time he’d acknowledged sending Christian’s Christmas “gift.”

“I told you, I don’t need to stoop to blackmail.” The thought of using the information had crossed my mind after the photos of me and Isabella first surfaced, but I’d dismissed it as quickly as it came.

Resorting to blackmail was the same as admitting defeat. It meant I wasn’t good enough to win on my own.

“It’s not blackmail. It’s insurance.” Blood leaked out of a cut on Dante’s brow, and the beginnings of a bruise darkened his jaw.

Vivian was going to give me hell later for the battered condition I’d return her husband in, but I doubted I looked much better. Today’s session was a cathartically brutal one.

“Funny. That’s exactly what Harper said.”

“And he’s right.” Dante paused with a grimace. “Don’t tell him I said that. Bastard’s ego would shoot through the fucking roof.”

I snorted. “I would think you’d be against blackmail, given what happened with Vivian’s father.”

His face darkened at the mention of his father-in-law. “In certain situations, yes,” he said. “But it also proves astonishingly effective in the short term. You just have to be smart enough to preempt the long-term consequences.”

Or I could bypass it and not have any long-term consequences to begin with.

Before I could respond, my phone’s ringtone blared through the sweat-drenched air and sucked the levity out of the room.

Our movements stilled. The air evacuated from my lungs as I zeroed in on the bench where I’d placed my phone.

It could be a telemarketer, my assistant calling with a question, or a dozen other possibilities, but my gut told me it wasn’t.

It was eleven in the morning here, which meant it was near the end of the workday in London. Perfect timing for a CEO announcement.

My heart pounded hard enough to drown out the ringtone. A metallic taste welled on my tongue, flooding me with equal parts anticipation and foreboding.

After everything—the schemes, the scandals, the setbacks—this was it. The moment of truth.

“Kai.”

Dante’s low voice pulled my attention back to him. His eyes were fixed on something over my shoulder, and I followed his gaze to the exit.

An anchor dragged my stomach straight to the boxing ring’s black canvas floor. A low buzz filled my ears.

Isabella stood next to the door, her chest heaving with quick breaths. I didn’t know how she got in, but I knew why she was here. It was written all over her face.

I’d lost the vote.

ISABELLA

The silence was deafening.

Dante had muttered an excuse about meeting Vivian for lunch and made a quick exit, leaving me and Kai alone in the boxing gym.

He stood still as stone in the middle of the ring. Sweat gleamed on his bare torso and dampened his hair, making him look like a warrior fresh from battle.

I’d caught the tail end of his match with Dante. It was my first time seeing Kai box, and it’d taken my breath away. The precision, the power, the lethal grace—it was like watching a master execute a beautifully choreographed dance.

If I were here for any other reason, I would’ve savored the experience, but all I felt was an icy ball of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“Who?” Kai’s face and voice were wiped clean of emotion.

I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. “Someone named Russell Burton?”

He reacted then. A tiny jerk of his shoulders, followed by a dark, burning realization in his eyes.

The name had surprised him.

I waited for a bigger reaction—a curse, a rant, something that would indicate his acknowledgment of what happened. Instead, he stepped down from the ring, wiped his face with a towel, and unscrewed the cap of his water bottle. If it weren’t for his tightly controlled movements and the tension cording his neck, I would’ve thought he hadn’t heard me.

I walked toward him with the caution of a hiker approaching a rattlesnake.

When I saw the news about Russell’s selection, my stomach had pitched like I was the one who’d lost. I couldn’t imagine how Kai must’ve felt. This was his family. His company. His legacy.