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

Faint amusement ghosted through his eyes.

“Close. My grandfather ran his household the way he ran his business. He was the first, last, and only word on any subject. Everything operated by a strict set of rules, from our playtime hours to what hobbies Luca and I were allowed to pursue. I was seven when I took my first factory tour, ten when I started learning about contracts and negotiations.”

In other words, he’d lost his childhood to his grandfather’s ambitions.

A deep ache unfurled behind my ribs.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Dante said, correctly assessing my expression. “The Russo Group wouldn’t be where it is now if it weren’t for him and what he taught me.”

“There’s more to life than money and business,” I said softly.

“Not in our world.” A gentle breeze swept by, ruffling his hair. “People can join as many charities as they want, donate as much money as they want, but at the end of the day, it’s about the bottom line. Look at Tim and Arabella Creighton. They were once superstars in Manhattan society. Now Tim’s facing trial, and no one will touch Arabella with a ten-foot pole. All her supposed friends dropped her.”

Dante’s mouth twisted. “If you think any of the people who kiss my ass now will stick around if the company folded tomorrow, you’re sorely mistaken. The only languages they understand are money, power, and strength. Those that have it will do anything to keep it. Those who don’t will do anything to get it.”

“That’s a terrible way to go through life,” I said, even though I’d witnessed those scenarios play out enough times to know he was right.

“Some things make it better.”

My heart faltered, then picked up speed again.

Dante and I stood on a secluded stretch of beach, close enough to see the restaurant but far enough that its sounds and crowds didn’t touch us.

A fissure cleaved his stony mask, revealing a trace of weariness that tugged at my soul.

CEO Dante was all stern frowns and hard commands.

This Dante was more vulnerable. More human. I’d spotted glimpses of him before, but this was the first time I’d been in his presence for so long.

It felt like sinking into a warm bath after a long day in the rain.

“This wasn’t how I’d planned to spend our first day in Bali,” he said. “I promise family history lessons aren’t the norm here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a history lesson. But…” I switched to a more playful tone. “I want to learn more about this diving your father was talking about. I’ve never been to Bali before. What else is there to do?”

Dante’s shoulders relaxed. “Don’t bring up diving in front of my father, or he’ll talk your ear off,” he said as we started our walk back to the restaurant. We’d been gone for almost an hour; his parents must be wondering what happened to us. “To be fair, the island is one of the top diving destinations in the world. There are also some beautiful temples and a great art scene in Ubud…”

I half listened as he ran through the top activities in Bali. I was too distracted by his voice to pay attention to his words—deep and velvety, with a faint Italian accent that did unspeakable things to my insides.

I’d teased him about loving Kai’s British accent at Valhalla, but it was his I couldn’t get enough of.

Not just the voice, but the intelligence, loyalty, vulnerability and humor that lurked deep, deep beneath his grumpy surface.

Somewhere along the way, Dante Russo had morphed from a caricature of a rich, arrogant CEO into an actual human. One I liked, for the most part.

It was awful.

No matter what happened at Valhalla, or how much Dante shared about himself, I couldn’t delude myself into thinking our relationship was anything more than what it was. That was a surefire way to a broken heart, and I already had enough broken things in my life.

Dante stepped closer to me to let another couple pass. Our fingers brushed, and my traitorous heart leaped into my throat.

This is just business, I reminded myself.

If I said it enough times, maybe I’d believe it.





CHAPTER 18





Vivian





Over the next three days, Dante and his parents took me on a crash tour of Bali. We scuba-dived in Nusa Penida, trekked to waterfalls in Munduk, and visited temples in Gianyar. The Russos had a private driver and boat, which made traversing the island easier.

By the time Thanksgiving night rolled around, I’d tanned into a golden brown and forgotten all about the pile of work waiting for me in New York. Even Dante frowned less.

I was glad I’d taken him up on his offer to see one of his company’s therapists. Though I could’ve probably moved past the robbery without therapy over time, talking with Dr. Cho helped me process it in a way I couldn’t have on my own.

Our sessions would continue after Thanksgiving, but for now, they were enough to ensure my trip wasn’t marred by sleepless nights and flashbacks to the press of metal against my chin.

“Luca, get off your phone,” Janis admonished during dinner. “It’s rude to text at the table.”

“Sorry.” He continued texting, his plate of food untouched.

Luca had arrived Monday night and spent the majority of his time texting, sleeping, and lounging by the pool. It was like being on vacation with a teenager, except he was in his thirties and not his teens.