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

Buffy’s eyes cooled into blue ice. “I’m sure she’d understand if you had to cancel,” she said, her smile intact but sharper. More deadly. “This is an important event, Vivian. There’s a lot riding on it.”

Including your reputation and place in society.

The unspoken threat hung over the table like a guillotine.

Across from me, Isabella and Sloane watched the scene play out with wide eyes and icy fury, respectively. I could tell Sloane was holding back some choice epithets but, thankfully, she didn’t intervene.

She didn’t need to.

Between my parents’ visit, my argument with Dante, and headaches I’d encountered with the ball, I’d reached the end of my rope.

“Yes, there is,” I said in response to Buffy. Frost layered beneath my otherwise polite tone. “That’s why every detail must be flawless, including the performers. As the chair of the Legacy Ball committee, I’m sure you understand anything less than perfection on stage would not be ideal. I have full faith in Veronica’s commitment to her craft, which is why an audition shouldn’t be a problem. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The sounds from the restaurant became white noise as my heartbeat drummed in my ears.

I was taking a huge risk, insulting Buffy in front of other people, but I was sick of people trying to manipulate me into doing what they wanted.

She could blacklist me after the ball, but until then, it was my name on the invitations and my professional reputation on the line. I’d be damned if I let anyone destroy what I’d worked years for in the name of poorly concealed nepotism.

Buffy stared at me.

In reality, the silence lasted less than a minute, but every second stretched for an eon until her initial shock melted into something more inscrutable.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I suppose you’re right.” Her voice was as cold as her eyes, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say it contained the tiniest hint of respect. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

She turned to leave, but before she did, she cast a last look at me. “And Vivian? I expect this to be the best Legacy Ball in the event’s history.”

Buffy departed in a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and icy regality.

Her exit pulled the pent-up air from my lungs. I slumped, no longer held upright by indignation and a need to prove she couldn’t walk all over me.

“Telling off Buffy Darlington.” Sloane’s green eyes glittered with rare admiration. “Impressive.”

“I didn’t tell her off,” I refuted. “I presented an alternative viewpoint.”

“You told her off,” Isabella said. “There was a moment when I thought she would have a coronary and collapse right into your eggs. Buffy and Benedict, the new brunch combo.”

We stared at each other for a moment, stunned by the cheesiness of her joke, before we broke into laughter.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe we were all delirious from overworking and lack of sleep, but once we started, we couldn’t stop. Tears sprung to my eyes, and Isabella’s shoulders shook so hard the table rattled. Even Sloane was laughing.

“Speaking of B names,” Isabella said after our mirth finally died down to a manageable level. “Did I hear wrong, or did she say she was here with her friend Bunny?”

“Bunny Van Houten,” I confirmed with a grin. “Wife of Dutch shipping magnate Dirk Van Houten.”

Horror wiped the remaining amusement from Isabella’s face.

“Who comes up with these names?” she demanded. “Is there a rule that the richer you are, the uglier your name has to be?”

“They’re not that bad.”

“Buffy and Bunny, Viv! Buffy and Bunny!” Isabella shook her head. “Once I have the power, I’m banning all names beginning with the letters B and U. God forbid they add a Bubby to their group.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst into laughter again, with Isabella and Sloane joining me soon after.

God, I needed this. Food, drinks, and a fun, silly morning with my friends, the Buffy incident notwithstanding. Sometimes, it was the simple things in life that kept us going.

We lingered for another hour before we left. I insisted on covering the meal since they’d spent the majority of the time listening to my problems, and I’d just paid the check when my phone buzzed.

My heart flipped when I read the new message, but I kept my expression neutral as we exited the restaurant.

“There’s a new romantic comedy coming out next week,” Sloane said. “Let’s watch it.”

Isabella eyed her with suspicion. “Will you actually watch the movie this time, or will you just complain during the entire film?”

Sloane slid on her sunglasses. “I don’t complain. I provide real-time criticism of the film’s application in the real world.”

“It’s a rom-com,” I said. “They’re not supposed to be realistic.”

Some people liked to unwind by reading or getting a massage. Sloane liked to watch romantic comedies and type up dissertation-length papers detailing every single thing she disliked about the movie.

And yet, she kept watching them.

“We’ll agree to disagree,” she said. “Next Thursday after work. Does that work?”

We’d survived years of rom-com evisceration. We’d survive another night.