King of Wrath (Kings of Sin #1) by Ana Huang

My throat dried. A flame ignited low in my stomach, and I suddenly wished I’d worn a conservative suit again tonight.

It was safer. Less capable of fogging my mind with rough drawls and electric attraction.

What were we talking about?

“Different occasions require different approaches.” I grasped for words and hoped they made sense.

I cocked an eyebrow, praying Dante couldn’t hear how fast my heart was beating. I knew it was physically impossible, but I couldn’t shake the eerie sense he could see straight through me like I was made of nothing more than a thousand pieces of broken, transparent glass.

“You might want to try that strategy sometime,” I added, determined to keep the conversation going so I didn’t sink into the mind-numbing heat of his stare again. “People might like you better.”

“I would if I cared about others’ opinions.” He dragged his eyes back up to mine, the picture of mocking cruelty once more. “Unlike some of my esteemed guests, I don’t derive my self-worth from what people think of me.”

The insinuation hit me in the gut, and my skin went from overly hot to ice cold in the blink of an eye.

Nobody flipped a switch from tolerable to asshole faster than Dante Russo. It took every ounce of willpower not to toss the nearest drink in his face.

He had some nerve, but the worst part was, he wasn’t wrong.

The insults with a grain of truth always cut the deepest.

“Good. Because I assure you, their opinion of you is quite low,” I snapped.

Do not slap him. Do not make a scene.

I took a deep breath and wrapped it up before I went against my own advice.

“As delightful as I find our conversation, I have to excuse myself as I have other places to be. However, I expect all logistical information related to my move-in my inbox by tomorrow at noon. I would hate to have to show up in front of your building and reveal your incompetence to your neighbors.” I touched the diamond pendant at my throat. “Imagine how embarrassing it would be if people found out the great Dante Russo couldn’t coordinate something as simple as his fiancée’s move-in.”

Dante’s glare could’ve melted the gold frames hanging on the walls.

“You might not care what others personally think of you, but reputation is everything in business. If you can’t handle your home life, how could you possibly handle your office dealings?” I took a business card out of my clutch and tucked it into the jacket pocket of his suit. “I assume you already have my contact information. In case you don’t, here’s my card. I look forward to your email.”

I walked away before he could respond.

The heat of his anger lashed at my back, but I’d detected a tiny flash of something else in his eyes before I left.

Respect.

I kept walking, my heart in my throat and my feet moving faster and faster until I reached the nearest guest bathroom. Only when the door closed behind me did I slump against the wall and cover my face with my hands.

Breathe.

My surge of adrenaline was already fading, leaving me drained and anxious.

I’d stood off against Dante and won...for now. But I wasn’t naive enough to think that was the end of it.

Even if standing up to him had garnered me grudging points in his eyes, he wouldn’t let an uneven score against him stand.

Somehow, I’d entered into a cold war with my fiancé, and tonight was just the opening battle.





CHAPTER 6





Dante





I sent Vivian the information she needed for her move at precisely noon on Sunday. Not out of fear she’d cause a scene in front of my building, but out of reluctant admiration for the stunt she’d pulled at my exhibition.

It turned out the delicate little rose had some steel in her spine after all.

The following weekend, Vivian showed up at my house again, this time with an army of movers in tow.

Greta, my housekeeper, and Edward, my butler, took charge of guiding the movers through the apartment while I led Vivian to her room.

Neither of us spoke, and the silence expanded with each step until it became a living, breathing entity between us.

Annoyance wormed its way into my chest.

Vivian had been perfectly friendly to Greta, Edward, and the rest of my staff, whom she’d greeted with warm smiles and fucking cookies from Levain. But when she got to me, she’d shut down like I was the one moving into her house and disrupting her carefully planned life.

Like I was the one who’d showed up uninvited at her party wearing an outfit that could send a man to his fucking knees.

A week later, the image of that black dress clinging to her curves was still ingrained in my mind, as was the fire in her eyes when she’d laid into me.

There was none of that fire now. Vivian was the picture of cool elegance walking next to me, and it pissed me off for no explicable reason.

Or maybe my ire had something to do with the fact that, even in a casual blouse and skirt, her presence awoke an unwanted heat in my gut. My body had never reacted so viscerally to anyone before, and I didn’t even fucking like her.

We stopped in front of a carved wood door.

“This is your room.” I’d set her up in the farthest suite from mine, and it was still too close. “Greta will unpack for you later.”

My voice sounded abnormally loud after the oppressive quiet.