King of Greed (Kings of Sin, 3)

No matter how solid the rock, waves would eventually erode it through sheer persistence. It was a law of nature, unstoppable and inevitable.

I feared the same phenomenon was happening with me and Dominic.

Every run-in crashed against my defenses; every conversation, no matter how short, chipped at my willpower.

I was nowhere close to forgiving him, but I didn’t run in the opposite direction when I saw him either. I couldn’t decide whether that meant I was coming to terms with our divorce or if I was in danger of sliding back into his orbit.

Either way, I needed to regroup and figure out how to deal with his continued presence. Even if I left Buzios, he’d be there in New York. We had mutual friends, and our chances of running into each other were high. I couldn’t brush him off forever. It was too stressful.

“A drink for your thoughts,” Marcelo quipped, handing me a mini coconut shell.

“That’s dangerous. I’ve had three already.” Nevertheless, I accepted his offer. Batidas de coco—made with coconut milk, sweetened condensed milk, coconut water, and cachaça—were simply too good to resist.

Plus, it was Marcelo’s last day in Buzios before he had to return to work, so we were having a last hurrah at our favorite beachfront bar. I was sad he was leaving so soon, but I couldn’t count on my brother to stay by my side forever. One of the reasons I’d left Dominic and the city was to find my autonomy again, and that meant independence from everyone, not just my husband.

Ex-husband, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sloane’s corrected.

I downed my drink.

“You sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?” Marcelo asked.

“Mom’s apartment in Rio is empty if you want to head there instead. She’s in Tulum. Or Hawaii. Or L.A.” He shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know where the hell she is.”

“Hey, who’s the older sibling here?” I nudged his ankle with my foot.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not ready to give up the beach life yet.” Other than the uncertainty cast by Dominic’s arrival, Buzios was paradise. I was tanned and toned from hours of surfing, swimming, and sailing. My arms were stacked with beaded bracelets I’d created at a jewelry making workshop, and my physical tension had gradually melted thanks to daily beach yoga.

I’d spent the past two weeks picking up new hobbies I wasn’t necessarily good at but enjoyed—hello, drawing—and reaffirming the things I didn’t enjoy, like trying to keep up with twenty-year-olds at the bar.

For once, I was living for myself, at my own pace, and I loved it.

“Mm-hmm. Looks like someone else isn’t ready for you to give it up either.” Marcelo nodded at someone behind me. “Incoming.”

I turned, my heart skipping a beat before I saw the brown hair and professionally whitened teeth.

“Hey. Alessandra, right?” Ignacio, my diving instructor from Thursday, walked over with a wide smile. “Tudo bom? How’s it going?”

“Good. How are you?” I replied in Portuguese. I chalked the pinch in my chest up to alcohol, not disappointment.

“Can’t complain.” He cast a curious glance at Marcelo, who held out his hand.

“Marcelo. I’m Alessandra’s brother.”

We made the requisite small talk before Marcelo excused himself to use the restroom. He ignored my glare on his way past. “He’s not bad looking,”

he whispered. “Have fun.”

Great. Now my own brother was trying to pimp me out to a semi-stranger.

“So, how long are you staying in Buzios?” Ignacio asked.

“Probably for another week. I haven’t decided.” I brushed a strand of hair out of my eye.

He nodded and flicked a glance at my left hand. I expected him to back off when he saw my ring until I remembered I didn’t have a ring anymore.

My chest pinched again.

“If you need anyone to show you the best hidden gems in town, I’m your guy.” Ignacio leaned closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been coming here since I was kid. I have it all mapped out.”

I didn’t mention that I’d visited Buzios almost every other year since I was a kid too. “Yeah? What kind of spots?” I teased.

He was too young for me, but a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone. Besides, I needed the reminder that other men existed as romantic potentials besides Dominic. He wasn’t the end-all be-all. Not by a long shot.

Ignacio’s smile widened. “Well, there’s this secret beach…” We flirted for a while without mentioning Marcelo’s extended absence. It was light, pressure-free, and exactly what I needed. We weren’t interested in starting a relationship or even hooking up, though I strongly suspected Ignacio wouldn’t say no to sex. We were simply having fun.

The music shifted from mellow pop to an upbeat samba song. The other bar patrons erupted into cheers. Chairs and tables were pushed aside to make room for a dance floor, and the afternoon’s lazy contentment morphed into raucous debauchery.

I shook my head when Ignacio held out his hand. “I’m too tipsy to dance. I’ll look like an idiot.”

“Come on! Drunken dancing is the best kind of dancing.” He gestured around the bar. “Look at everyone here. Do you think they’ll judge you?”

Oh, what the hell. If I had to make a fool of myself, I might as well do it on vacation.

I laughed when Ignacio dragged me onto the dance floor and spun me until I was dizzy. We weren’t exactly sambaing, but I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much.

“Oof!” I slammed into him on my last spin.

“Careful.” Ignacio steadied me, his laughter blending with the music.

“No more drinks for you today.”

“I’m not—” My sentence abruptly cut off when I glimpsed a flash of distinctive blond hair.

In the breath between my heart stopping and restarting, Dominic shouldered his way between me and Ignacio and pinned the other man with a stare so cold it sent shivers down my spine.

To his credit, Ignacio didn’t back down. “Hey man, what’s the deal?”

His tone was friendly, but wariness filled his expression. “We were dancing.”

“And now you’re not,” Dominic said, his tone deadly calm. Ignacio’s eyes narrowed. “Do we have a problem?”

“No.” I answered for my ex-husband. “Dominic was just leaving.

Weren’t you?”

He didn’t budge.

Anger washed away the remainder of my buzz. “If you don’t leave us alone right now,” I said quietly, “I will never talk to you again.”

It was the first ultimatum I’d ever issued, and I meant every word. I usually wasn’t this dramatic, but I refused to let Dominic barge in like a jealous rhino every time he saw me with another man. He’d lost the right to any opinions on my personal life weeks ago.

His eyes snapped to mine. Shock flitted through them, followed by a quick flash of betrayal, then hurt.

I would be lying if I said his reaction didn’t pull on at least one heartstring. Despite everything that’d happened between us, I didn’t want to actively hurt him, but I couldn’t let him walk all over me either.

My conviction must’ve been scrawled all over my face, because after what felt like an eternity, Dominic turned and walked away without a word.

However, the moment was already ruined. No matter how hard I tried to laugh, dance, and focus on Ignacio again, my mind was stuck on the man who held more shares of my attention than he should. He was gone but still there, his gaze a warm weight on my skin, his presence a black hole that drew every inch of awareness toward him.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I lasted one more song before I made an excuse about needing another drink and left Ignacio on the dance floor.

I stormed toward the bar, where Dominic sat like a king surveying his empire. I stopped inches away from him and jabbed a finger at his chest.

“Enough.”

His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re here. ”

“It’s public property, amor. I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“You know what I mean. And stop calling me amor.” My heart threatened to pound out of my chest. “It’s not…I’m not…”

“You’re not what?” Dominic’s voice dipped a decibel.

“I’m not your wife anymore.” I shouldn’t have drunk so much.

My head swam, and my palms were clammy with sweat.

“No.” He didn’t take his eyes off mine. “But you’re still my love. That hasn’t changed.”

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

He said the right thing every time…when he cared enough to say it. His confession after Monday’s dinner had been stuck on a permanent loop in my head for the past week.

That’s all I ask. A chance for us to talk and get to know each other as we are.

I knew better than to fall for it, but sometimes, resisting him was like a falling stone trying to resist the pull of gravity.

My phone vibrated against my hip. I wrenched my gaze from his, eager for a distraction while my pulse pounded at triple speed. It spiked even more when I saw who was calling, but I pressed accept anyway. Anything was better than being alone with Dominic. We might be surrounded by people, but when he was there, no one else existed.

I turned away from him and pressed my phone tight against my ear.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

The last time my mother called me out of the blue like this, she’d lost her passport and missed her flight to New York after partying too hard at some billionaire’s chateau in Europe. She had been the guest of honor at a major fashion event in the city the following day, and I’d scrambled to get her an emergency passport a nd a new flight so she could make the event. If it hadn’t been for the Davenport name, I might not have succeeded.

“Everything’s wonderful,” she trilled. “In fact, I have amazing news, darling. Are you ready?”

Disbelief coasted through me when she delivered her bombshell. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but the timing was absurd, even for her.

“This Tuesday? Are you kidding?”

“Why would I kid about something like that? This is a big deal! Of course, you and Marcelo need to be there. You’re family, and family is nonnegotiable.”

“Yes, but—”

“Oops, I have to go. Bernard is waiting for me in the hot tub.” She giggled, which was a deeply disconcerting sound coming from one’s fifty-seven-year-old parent. “See you soon! Don’t forget to moisturize and hydrate. You want to look good for the big day.”

“Mom, you can’t—”

Dead silence interrupted my protest. She’d hung up.

“What is it?” Dominic asked when I faced him again. A frown was etched in his brow; my end of the conversation was enough to indicate something was wrong.

I was too stunned to hold on to my earlier anger or do anything except tell the truth.

“My mom’s getting married again.” I looked up, seeing my stupefaction reflected in his eyes. “The wedding is in three days.”