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

The chicken broth was rich and hearty enough to comprise a full meal on its own. We ate in silence for a while until Vivian spoke again.

“How’s Luca? After…you know.”

“He’s fine. He’s been through worse.” Though I should check on him again just in case. “He once got mugged by a monkey in Bali. Almost died trying to get his phone back.”

Vivian spluttered out a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true.” My mouth curved, both at the memory of my brother’s indignation over the crime and at her smile. “Obviously, he got out okay, but some of those temple monkeys are ruthless.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for our trip.”

We were leaving for Bali in three weeks to see my parents for Thanksgiving. I was already dreading it, but I pushed that aside for now.

“And you?” I dropped all pretense and fixed my gaze on Vivian. “How are you doing?”

Vivian’s amusement disappeared in the wake of my question.

The air shifted and condensed, squeezing out the earlier lightheartedness.

“I’m okay,” she said quietly. “I’m having some trouble sleeping, hence the naps, but it’s more shock than anything. I wasn’t hurt. I’ll get over it.”

Maybe she was right. She was much calmer now than the first night, but a niggling thread of concern still unraveled in my stomach.

“If you want to talk to someone, the company has people on hand,” I said gruffly. Our contracted therapists were some of the top practitioners in the city. “Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” Her smile returned, softer this time. “For the other night, and for this.” She nodded at the half-empty bowls between us.

“You’re welcome,” I said stiffly, unsure how to handle whatever the hell was happening here.

I had no frame of reference for the strange fog clouding my brain, or the twinge in my chest when I looked at her.

It wasn’t wrath, like with Brax.

It wasn’t hatred, like with Francis.

It wasn’t lust or dislike or any of the other emotions that had shaped my previous interactions with Vivian.

I didn’t know what it was, but it unsettled the hell out of me.





CHAPTER 17





Dante & Vivian





DANTE

Vivian did end up speaking to one of our therapists after the Lohman & Sons incident. She never discussed her sessions, but by the time we arrived in Bali, her sleep had improved and she was mostly back to her normal witty, sarcastic self.

I told myself my relief had nothing to do with her personally and that I was simply glad she was in the right headspace to meet my parents.

“Are you sure your parents live here?” Vivian stared at the villa in front of us.

Hand-hewn sculptures dotted the lawn in a riot of primary colors, and an overabundance of wind chimes tinkled by the front door. Giant sunflowers sprouted up the walls in splashes of yellow and green paint.

It looked like a cross between a luxury villa and a daycare center.

“Yes.” The place had Janis Russo written all over it. The front door flew open, revealing a mass of curly brown hair and a floor-length caftan. “Prepare yourself.”

“Darling!” my mother cried. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you! My baby boy!” She rushed toward us and embraced me in a cloud of patchouli. “Have you lost weight? Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough? Having sex enough?”

Vivian disguised her laugh with a delicate cough.

I grimaced as my mother pulled back and examined me with a critical eye. “Hello, Mother.”

“Stop. I told you to call me Janis. You’re always so formal. I blame Enzo,” she told Vivian. “His grandfather was a real stickler for the rules. You know he kicked someone out of a dinner party once for using the wrong fork? Started a whole international incident because the guest was the son of a UN ambassador. Though to be fair, you’d expect the son of a UN ambassador to know which fork is used for salads and which is used for entrées. Isn’t that right?”

Vivian blinked, seemingly stunned by the whirlwind of energy before her.

“Now, let me take a look at you.” My mother released me and placed her hands on Vivian’s shoulders. “Oh, you’re beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Dante? Tell me, darling, what do you use for your skin? It’s positively glowing. Argan oil? Snail mucin? La Mer…”

Vivian caught my eye over my mother’s head. Help me, her gaze begged.

My mouth tugged up in a reluctant smile.

For all my mother’s over-the-top effusiveness, she was right. Vivian was beautiful. Even after a twelve-hour flight, she glowed in a way that had nothing to do with her physical appearance.

A strange sensation coasted through my chest.

“Yes,” I said. “She is.”

Vivian’s eyes widened a fraction while my mother beamed harder.

We held each other’s stares for a suspended moment until my father’s voice boomed across the lawn.

“Dante!” He strode through the front door, lean and tanned in a linen shirt and shorts. “Good to see you, son.” He clapped a hand on my back before engulfing Vivian in a bear hug. “And you, my daughter-in-law! I can’t believe it! Tell me, has Dante ever taken you scuba diving?”