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

One of her brows rose. “Separate rooms until marriage. I didn’t realize you were such a traditionalist.”

“I didn’t realize you were so eager to share a bed with me.”

A small smirk curved my mouth when Vivian’s cheeks pinked. It was her first loss of composure all morning.

“I didn’t say I wanted to share a bed with you,” she said coolly. “I simply pointed out the outdatedness of your thinking. Sleeping in separate rooms is for married couples who are fighting, not newly engaged couples who are supposed to be in love. Word will get out. People will talk.”

“It won’t, and they won’t.” My household staff had been with me for years and prided themselves on their discretion. “If they do, I’ll take care of it. But since we’re on the subject of public image, we should establish the boundaries of our relationship.”

“Ah, communication. I do believe you’re finally graduating from the Neanderthal stage of your life.”

I ignored her wry insult and continued, “In public, we’ll play the part of a loving couple. We’ll attend events together, smile for the cameras, and pretend we like each other. You’ll also have full access to the Russo Group portfolio of brands. If you want anything from any of our collections, call my assistant Helena and she’ll take care of it. On your nightstand, you’ll find her number, a black Amex, and your engagement ring. Wear it.”

The engagement announcement ran that morning. Vivian and I were officially tied together, which meant my reputation was also at stake.

I didn’t care whether people personally liked me, but public perception was important in my line of work. Obvious discord would raise too many questions, and the last thing I needed were nosy society columnists sniffing around.

“A ring on my bedside table. How romantic.” Vivian touched the sapphire bracelet on her wrist. “You truly know how to make a woman feel special.”

“I’m not here to make you feel special.” I dipped my head toward hers. The sweet, slightly tart scent of apples stole into my lungs as I enunciated my next words with crisp precision. “I’m here because I made a deal with your father.”

Vivian didn’t back away, but surprise and a hint of uncertainty surfaced in her eyes when I ran a leisurely knuckle over the gold chain around her neck.

Even at this close a distance, her skin was flawless, like cream poured over silk. Long dark lashes framed deep brown eyes, and a tiny beauty mark, so small one would have to be as close as I was to see it, dotted the area above her lush lips.

My eyes dipped to her mouth. The heat from my gut spread to my stomach.

She wore the same lipstick from the exhibition. Bold, red, and seductive, like a siren’s call amidst a sea of tranquil calm.

I wanted to rub my thumb across her bottom lip and smear her perfect lipstick until she was nothing more than a beautiful mess. To peel back the composed mask and see the ugliness underneath.

Vivian may be wrapped in a pretty package, but a Lau was a Lau. They were all cut from the same mold.

“Don’t expect dinner dates or sweet nothings at home, mia cara,” I said, my words as soft and lazy as my touch. “You won’t get either.”

Instead of touching her mouth, I skimmed the back of my hand across her collarbone, over the curve of her shoulder, and down her arm until it reached the frantic beat at her wrist.

“Get rid of any romantic notions you may have of us falling in love and living happily ever after. It won’t happen.” I pressed a thumb against her pulse, hard, and smiled when she jerked at the sudden, rough movement. “This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. Are we clear?”

Vivian pressed her lips into a stubborn line.

The air was alive with the crackle of electricity and animosity. It sizzled against my skin, drawing my muscles tight and fanning the strange, hungry fire in my stomach.

When she remained mutinously silent, I reached up and closed my hand around her throat. Lightly, just enough to feel the shallowness of her breaths.

My voice dropped to a dangerous warning. “Are. We. Clear?”

Vivian’s eyes flashed. “Crystal.” The promise of retribution lurked beneath her even reply.

“Good.” I released her and stepped back with a mocking smile. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

I left without waiting for a response.

The warmth of Vivian’s skin lingered on my palm until I closed my hand around my lighter and let the cold metal chase away the remnants of her touch.

“Don’t start,” I said when I passed a frowning Greta. She was dusting in the sitting room, close enough to hear at least part of my conversation with Vivian.

The movers must’ve already left.

“You were too harsh,” she admonished, confirming my earlier suspicion.

Greta was over seventy, but her hearing gave bats a run for their money.

“Not harsh. Honest.” I checked my watch. I had a lunch meeting with a visiting CEO in two hours, and I needed to prep before I left. “Would you rather I lead her on? Indulge her childhood fantasies about Prince Charming coming in and sweeping her off her feet?”

“How do you know she has those fantasies?” Greta swept her duster over the fireplace mantel with more force than necessary. “She seems like the practical sort.”

“You met her half an hour ago.”