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

He achieved every goal he set his mind to; I couldn’t keep a job for more than a year and change.

Our lives had intertwined for a brief, glorious moment, but we were ultimately on different paths. Eventually, we would stray too far apart to stay together without one or both of us breaking.

I hugged my arms around my waist, trying to hold myself together when I was slowly shattering to pieces. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

My love.

I’m sorry.

Two pairs of words. Two settings. Both devastating in entirely different ways.

I felt more than I heard the latter’s impact on Kai. A shock-wave rippled through the air and outlined his face with bright, blazing agony. It was gut-wrenching in its silence and all-consuming in its potency, its effects clearly etched in the ragged rise of his chest and the glossy brightness of his eyes.

He reached for me, but I hugged myself tighter and shook my head. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Tears scalded my skin. “Please, Kai. Please just leave.”

My sobs broke free. Waves of pain unfurled inside me, slamming against my defenses and dragging me beneath their terrible, ferocious fury until I drowned in anguish.

Kai wasn’t the type to stay when he wasn’t wanted. He was too proud, too well bred. Nevertheless, he lingered, his anguish a tangible mirror of my own, before he finally left and the air grew cold.

I didn’t hear the door shut. I didn’t feel the hard wood bruising my skin when I sank to the floor or hear the hiccupping gasps of my breaths.

The only thing that existed in Kai’s absence was nothing.





CHAPTER 38


Kai



The CEO transition ceremony took place at a hotel ballroom in London. Every Young Corporation executive was in attendance along with a smattering of local employees and VIP “friends of the company.”

It was the perfect occasion for a takedown, but I couldn’t savor the moment as much as I would’ve liked.

Please just leave.

The memory of Isabella’s anguished voice and face ate at me like acid. I hadn’t talked to her since I left her apartment last week, but she haunted me every second of every day.

Everything reminded me of her—books, alcohol, even the color purple. It was particularly unbearable tonight, when the company’s purple peacock logo adorned everything from the podium to the gift bags at every seat.

I set my jaw and focused on the stage, trying to ignore the agonizing cramp in my chest.

The evening had progressed smoothly so far. Dinner went off without a hitch, and my mother was finishing her speech with remarkable composure. If Leonora Young was upset about ceding control of her family’s company to an outsider, one couldn’t tell by looking at her. Her voice sounded genuinely sincere as she thanked the board and employees for their support during her tenure and introduced Russell onstage.

I knew the truth. Inside, she was incandescent with rage.

My ears were still bleeding from our post-vote call. She didn’t know about Russell’s manipulations and had blamed my loss on Isabella.

I told you she was a distraction…If you had listened to me, you would’ve never lost…Our family name will never recover…

We hadn’t spoken since.

The room greeted her speech with thunderous applause. My mother shook hands with Russell, her face a canvas of carefully constructed professionalism, before walking back to her table.

My hand closed around the stem of my wineglass as Russell took the podium after her to a more muted reception.

Average height, average build, average brown hair and brown eyes. He was the type of person who blended into the background so seamlessly he practically disappeared. I’d dismissed him as a non-threat, but I finally saw his unmemorable facade for what it was: a masterful disguise, honed and perfected over years of operating under the radar.

My skin prickled.

Russell was the one talking, but all eyes were on me, waiting for a reaction I’d never give.

If people wanted a show, they’d get one soon enough. Just not from me.

Across the table, Vivian’s concern—over Isabella, the CEO vote, or both—burned a hole in my cheek. The Russo Group accounted for over fifty percent of our company’s print advertising, so Dante received invites to every important function. He normally declined, but he’d showed up tonight for “the entertainment,” as he called it.

He and Vivian were the guests of honor at my table. Most of the big advertisers were. My mother reigned over a table of board members while Tobias, Laura, and Paxton occupied seats near the stage. They watched Russell speak with varying expressions of anger, distaste, and contemplation. He hadn’t deemed Laura or Paxton threatening enough to blackmail, but I wondered what they would say when they found out he’d been spying on them.

“I want to give a special thank you to the board members who believed in me…” Russell droned on, unaware his fifteen minutes in the spotlight were about to expire.

I ignored Vivian’s concern and scanned the room. I appreciated her solicitude, but I had one goal and one goal only tonight.

My anticipation spiked when the ballroom’s service door opened and a half dozen servers entered. Each one carried a stack of menu-sized packets, which they quietly distributed to guests while Russell spoke.

Their reaction came swiftly.