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

“Now I understand.” I fought for calm, but a tremble of anger bled through. “An arranged marriage is the only way you could get someone to marry you. You are so…so…” I struggled to find the right word. “Horrible.”

Not my best work, but it’d do.

Dark amusement slid through his eyes. “If I’m so horrible, then tell your family the wedding’s off.” He nodded at my phone. “Call them right now. We’ll move you back into your apartment like this never happened.”

It was equal parts challenge and seduction. He didn’t think I would do it, but his voice was so rich and coaxing it almost compelled me to obey.

My fingers curled around my fork. The metal dug into my skin, cold and unforgiving.

I didn’t touch my phone.

I wanted to even more than I wanted to toss my wine in Dante’s smug face, but I couldn’t.

My father’s anger. My mother’s criticism. The failure if I didn’t go through with the wedding…

I couldn’t do it.

Dante’s amusement disappeared into the tense atmosphere. Something sparked in his eyes. Disappointment? Disapproval? It was impossible to tell.

“Exactly,” he said softly.

The finality of that word cut deeper than a freshly honed knife.

We finished dinner in silence, but my steak had lost its flavor.

I washed it down with more wine and let the warmth eat away at my shame.





CHAPTER 8





Dante





Despite what Vivian thought, I’d scheduled my Europe trip before she moved in. A majority of Russo Group brands were headquartered on the continent, and I blocked off a month every year to hold in-person meetings with the heads of our European subsidiaries.

This year’s timing just happened to be extremely convenient.

However, I made sure to keep tabs on Luca and Vivian while I was gone. I’d assigned Luca a sales role at one of our jewelry subsidiaries’ retail stores. He was a people person, and putting him in a back office somewhere would only spell disaster for him and the store in question. According to the store manager, he had a rough start—my brother had never been punctual—but by the time I returned to New York, he seemed to have settled, albeit begrudgingly, into his new role.

Vivian, on the other hand, had taken to her new surroundings like a duck to water. Greta and Edward gushed about her in every report, and I came home to find a new painting in the gallery, towels monogrammed with D&V in the bathrooms, and fucking flowers everywhere.

“Dante, relax your expression,” Winona said. “Give me a smile…that’s it! Perfect.”

The camera shutter clicked in rapid succession.

Vivian and I had spent the morning taking engagement photos in Central Park. It was as excruciating as I’d imagined, filled with fake smiles and faker embraces as Winona guided us into poses designed to show off how in “love” we were.

“Vivian, put your arms around his neck and move closer.”

I stiffened when Vivian obliged and took a tentative step toward me.

“Closer. I can practically drive a tractor between you right now,” Winona joked.

“Do as she says so we can get this over with,” I ground out. The sooner I put more distance between us, the better.

“You grow more charming every day.” Vivian’s voice was so sweet I could’ve drizzled it over pancakes. “Europe truly did wonders for your personality.”

“Closer,” Winona encouraged. If she picked up on our hostility, she didn’t acknowledge it. “One more step…”

Vivian’s breasts grazed my chest when she closed the remaining gap between us.

My muscles went rigid.

“Dante, put your arms around Vivian.”

For fuck’s sake.

Since I just wanted to get the torture over with, I set my jaw and placed my hands on Vivian’s hips. Heat seared through the silk of her dress, and her damned apple scent crawled into my lungs again.

Neither of us moved, afraid the slightest shift would inadvertently bring us even closer.

“I received an interesting call from my accountant when I was in Paris,” I said in an effort to distract myself from our disturbing proximity. “One hundred thousand dollars charged to my Amex in one day, including ten grand on flowers. Care to explain?”

“You gave me a black Amex, I used it,” Vivian said with an elegant shrug. “What can I say? I like flowers. And shoes.”

Translation: You were an asshole before you left, and I took it out on your bank account.

A subtle but petty act of revenge. Good for her.

There was no one more irritating than someone who didn’t stand up for herself.

“Clearly,” I said, trying not to breathe too deep so her scent didn’t envelop me completely. “And the towels?”

“They were a gift from my mother.”

Of course they were.

“Let me know in advance the next time you leave for a month,” she said. “I want time to plan a party, redecorate the living room, maybe come up with a robust shopping list. It’s amazing how much you can do with no spending limit.”

I narrowed my eyes.

I didn’t care about the credit card usage. Luca once spent a million dollars on a ridiculous twenty-four-karat solid gold bathtub for a pajama party. A hundred grand was nothing.