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

“Faster,” she begged, her voice breathy with desire. “Please.”

I gritted my teeth, my muscles taut with the strain of holding back my release. Sweat beaded along my forehead.

“Se sapessi il potere che hai su di me,” I said, my voice ragged.

I paused for a second before I gripped her hips and gave her what she asked for, fucking into her harder and faster until her nails dug grooves in my back.

Vivian’s eyes were half-closed, her cheeks flushed with pleasure and her lips half-parted as moan after moan poured out.

She looked so beautiful I almost couldn’t believe she was real.

My gaze lingered on her face, trying to imprint every detail to memory before I kissed her again. I swallowed her cry of release as she clamped around me.

I held on for another minute before my control finally snapped and my own orgasm washed through me in a hot, blinding rush.

“Well,” Vivian breathed after I rolled onto my side next to her. “That was definitely more fun than a bath.”

I chuckled even as guilt edged back into my consciousness and carved a hole in my chest. “My ego thanks you for the confirmation.”

“Tell it you’re welcome.” She yawned and snuggled closer to me, draping one arm and leg over my body. “This was the perfect last night,” she murmured. “We should…” Another yawn. “Come to Paris more often. Next time...” A third yawn. “Let’s go to the…”

Her drowsy voice trailed off into silence. I pressed my lips to the top of her head as her breaths slowed into a deep, even rhythm.

I tried to sleep, but the heavy ache in my chest left me restless.

Instead, I stared at the ceiling, counting her breaths, wondering how many more we had left before everything fell apart.

It would take Christian one day to destroy the evidence. One or two for Francis to realize what happened, depending on how closely he monitored the backup sites. And a couple more for the effects of the business takedown to be noticeable.

Realistically, I could tell Vivian the truth when we landed in New York. I’d rather her hear it from me than her father, who would undoubtedly try to twist things in a way that made him look like the victim.

But…fuck. I couldn’t drop a bombshell on her just like that. At the same time, I couldn’t pretend everything was okay and allow her in even more than I already had. Not when our break was inevitable.

Other people spent years trying to get close to me. Vivian didn’t even have to try. Every minute we spent together was another chip away at my defenses, whether she knew it or not.

If I let her father off the hook, I could maybe salvage what we had. Even if she found he was a piece of shit, she was too loyal to her family to forgive me for destroying them. And if she was, by some miracle, okay with me taking down her father, could our relationship survive the aftermath? I damn sure wasn’t going to sit across from the Laus at Thanksgiving every year and make nice, and I doubt they’d welcome me, anyway.

I couldn’t keep her, and I couldn’t let her go.

Not yet.

I closed my eyes, trying to find the best way out of this clusterfuck.

Logic told me I’d already stolen my moments with her tonight and that I needed to distance myself before I fell any deeper. Emotion told me to fuck logic and tell it to shove its reason up its ass.

My head or my heart. One of them would win.

I just didn’t know which one.





CHAPTER 32





Vivian





I left Paris on a blissful high.

Delicious food. Beautiful clothes. Amazing sex. I’d worked during my time there, but it’d felt like more of a vacation than some of my actual vacations.

Plus, the Legacy Ball planning was finally running smoothly, wedding prep was on track, and my relationship with Dante was the best it’d ever been.

Life was good.

“It was awful,” Sloane said as we exited the movie theater. “What was with the airplane scene? And the love confession. I would throw up if anyone compared me to the planet Venus, especially after knowing me for only three weeks. How could anyone possibly fall in love in three weeks?”

Isabella and I traded amused glances. We’d had to postpone our movie night due to my Paris trip, but we’d finally watched the rom-com Sloane had been hounding us about.

As expected, she hated it.

“Time works differently in fiction,” I said. “You know you can stop watching these movies any time, right?”

“I hate-watch them, Vivian. It’s therapeutic.”

“Mmhmm.”

I caught Isabella’s eye again, and we both turned away so Sloane couldn’t see our smiles.

“Anyway, I have to go home and feed The Fish before he dies on me.” Sloane sounded like the task was equivalent to scrubbing the subway tunnels clean with a toothbrush. “I have enough on my plate without having to deal with a dead animal.”

She’d kept the goldfish her apartment’s previous tenant left behind, but she refused to give him a proper name since its presence in her life was “temporary.”

It’d been over a year.

Isabella and I knew better than to mention it, though, so we simply bid her good night and parted ways.

I stopped by Dante’s favorite Thai place on the way home. Greta was on her annual leave in Italy, so we were on our own, food-wise, for the next few weeks.