King of Greed (Kings of Sin, 3)

Dominic and I spent our first day in Floripa lazing around the resort.

He had someone bring me a suitcase full of new clothes and makeup since I hadn’t packed for an overnight trip, and he’d booked a second suite in case I didn’t want to stay in the same one as him, but I’d settled for separate bedrooms. The presidential suite was so big, I wouldn’t see him unless I wanted to, anyway.

I’d expected a full itinerary of activities during our stay, but he was surprisingly hands-off about what we did here. Other than mealtimes, which we shared, he kept a respectful distance—almost too much so. By the time the next morning rolled around, I felt like I was on a work trip with a colleague instead of a date.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Isabella asked. I’d called her to check on the status of the store since we hadn’t gotten the chance to discuss business during yesterday’s group chat. “You can lie by the pool, go home, and call it a day. That’s what you wanted.”

“Maybe. It’s not like him to be so passive.” Why would Dominic fly us to another city only to leave me to fend for myself?

“I don’t know. People change. Either way, enjoy yourself and don’t think about work too much, okay?” Isabella said. “Sloane has the grand opening party under control, and I’m loving the construction noise while I write.” She was the only person I knew who’d say something like that and mean it. Isabella thrived in chaos. “I don’t want to hear a peep from you this weekend. If there’s an emergency, I’ll call you.”

I laughed. “Sounds good. Thanks again, Isa.”

I’d lucked out when I’d met Vivian, who’d then introduced me to Sloane and Isabella. I’d lost touch with my college friends years ago, and though I had casual friends in New York, I’d never felt like part of a group until Vivian took me under her wing.

Happy hours, shopping trips, girls’ nights…our friendship made me realize how much I’d lost during my marriage, not only in terms of close confidantes but also in the small things that rounded out a normal, healthy life.

Abandoning my goals in favor of someone else’s wasn’t healthy.

Replacing my hobbies with societal obligations because the latter were better for my husband’s business wasn’t healthy. Taking a supporting role instead of a main role in what should’ve been an equal partnership wasn’t healthy.

Dominic had his faults, but I wasn’t blameless either. I should’ve stood up for myself and what I wanted far earlier than I had. Younger me had thought love was enough to solve any problem, but growing up meant recognizing the importance of loving yourself as much as you did someone else.

I hung up and changed into a sundress before wandering into the suite’s living room. Sunlight spilled through the glass wall and drenched the pale oak floors with golden hues. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I couldn’t decide whether to order room service or wait for Dominic.

I made a left toward his room. I lifted my hand to knock, but his voice bled through the door before I made contact.

“…can’t make it back to New York this weekend.” His deep timbre sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “I don’t care. Tell Grossman he’ll have to wait.” A short pause. I couldn’t see him, but I could picture the irritation stamped on his face. “That’s what I pay you for. Take care of the problem, Caroline, because I’m not leaving Brazil until Alessandra does.”

The mention of my name plunged my stomach into free fall. I knew Dominic was giving up a lot of business opportunities to be here, but there was a difference between understanding something in theory and hearing it in practice.

I was still finding my equilibrium when the door opened and he nearly walked straight into me. Surprise erased the lines of annoyance from his brow.

“Alessandra? What’s wrong?”

An unexpected tinge of sadness tugged at my heart at his assumption that I was only seeking him out because something was wrong.

“Nothing.” I fiddled with my bracelets. “Did you have something planned for us today besides meals?”

“I’d rented canoes for this afternoon,” Dominic said cautiously. “Why?”

“So nothing in the morning?” I ignored his question. He shook his head.

“Good.” I made an executive decision on the spot. “Because we’re going to the market.”

DOMINIC

Florianópolis’s Public Market occupied an old colonial building right in the city center. A walk down any of its aisles revealed dozens of vendors selling clothes, food, ceramics, and local handcrafts. The air was alive with the sounds of English and Portuguese as tour guides led their groups through the maze and locals bartered in their native languages.

Alessandra and I grabbed a quick breakfast of coxinhas (chicken croquettes) and ate them while browsing the stalls.

“Which one do you like better?” She held up two scarves. “I can’t decide.”

I stared at them. They looked exactly the same. “That one.” I gestured at the one on the right.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She bought the one on the left. “Why are you laughing?”

“No reason.” I knew she’d choose the left one. When it came to shopping, she always went with the option I discarded. I suspected she didn’t trust my taste in women’s fashion, and I would’ve been offended had I not agreed with her.

I snuck a glance at her as we moved on to the next stall. I’d deliberately kept our schedule open in Florianópolis. I didn’t want to overwhelm her or force her to spend every minute with me while we were here. We had several days here; I figured we’d take it slow and see what she wanted to do, which was why I’d been pleasantly surprised when she proposed visiting the market.

I preferred the Michelin-starred chefs and gourmet restaurants, but Alessandra loved street food.

“Did you have work this morning?” she asked. “I heard…um, I thought I heard you talking to Caroline.”

“I had a quick call.” Caroline was my eyes and ears while I was gone, and she delivered detailed reports over the phone every week. One of my clients was in New York this weekend, but I wasn’t flying back to appease his ego when I would much rather be in Brazil with Alessandra.

“Speaking of work, how’s the store going?” I asked. “I hear Isabella is in charge while you’re here.” Kai was nothing if not meticulous when it came to relaying information.

“Yeah, her and Monty.” Alessandra laughed. “I think her snake almost gave one of the contractors a heart attack the other day, but apparently, it’s a great taskmaster. Everyone’s too scared to slack off with a python glaring at them.”

Ball pythons were one of the friendliest species of snake, but I supposed the average person only saw the snake part.

“I don’t know much about pressed flowers, but if you need any help on the business and finance side, let me know.” I should’ve offered when she’d started her online shop two years ago, but my head had been so stuck in the sand I hadn’t realized she’d created an entire fucking business until weeks after it launched. She hadn’t said a word, probably because she’d thought I was too busy to care. Kai was the one who’d mentioned it to me.

Alessandra’s chin lowered. “Thank you.”

“I should’ve been there for the original launch.” Shame held me hostage. “Starting a company is a big deal.”

“It’s okay. It was just an Etsy shop at the time. It’s not like I was entering the Fortune 500.”

I didn’t smile at her joke. It wasn’t okay, or our relationship wouldn’t be where it was right now.

“I mean it. If you need anything at all, call me. If I’m in a meeting, my office knows to put you through.” Considering how well Floria Designs was doing, she didn’t need my help, but the overture was there.

An ember of pride flared to life. I hated missing a milestone as big as the launch of her first business, but I was so fucking proud of what she’d built.

“Why pressed flowers?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation flowing. If we stopped, she’d withdraw again, and I wanted to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

“Honestly, I was bored and needed a hobby.” Pink tinted Alessandra’s cheeks. “I’ve always loved flowers, and I came across a DIY tutorial on how to press them. I tried it, it was fun, and, well.” She shrugged. “The rest is history.”

“What made you decide to turn it from a hobby into a business?”

“I don’t know.” Her face took on a far-off expression. “I guess I wanted something I could call my own. Everything we had belonged to you. Our house, our cars, our clothes. Even if I bought them, you paid for them. It got to a point where I…” She swallowed. “Where I felt like I wasn’t my own person anymore. I needed something to remind me I mattered. Me, as an individual, not as a wife or daughter or sister.”

We’d stopped walking. I didn’t know when we’d stopped or how long we’d been standing there, but I couldn’t move if I’d wanted to.

I knew Alessandra had been unhappy with our marriage. After all, we were divorced. But I hadn’t realized how deep-seated her unhappiness was, not just with our relationship but with herself.

I’d thought covering all our expenses and ensuring she never wanted for anything would make us happier. We’d struggled so fucking much in our early years, and I never wanted us to fall back into that hole again. What I hadn’t accounted for were the things we’d needed that weren’t material.

Time. Attention. Consideration.

They couldn’t be bought, and in my rush to bury any possible problem with money, I’d completely lost sight of that fact.

“You matter,” I said. “Always.”

She was the only person who’d ever truly mattered. Even if she didn’t love me anymore, even if all my efforts to win her back failed, she would always be the sun anchoring my universe.

Alessandra’s eyes glossed. She quickly looked away, but a telltale hitch disrupted her otherwise bright voice. “Well, that’s enough heavy talk for today. It’s not even noon, and we have a lot of stalls to get through before the boating trip.”

We stuck with safe topics for the rest of the morning—sports, food, the weather. But I never forgot the look on Alessandra’s face when she’d explained why she’d opened Floria Designs.

After we exhausted the market, we ate lunch at a nearby oyster bar (since she’d picked breakfast, I picked lunch) and made our way to the canoe rental. Alessandra and I had gone canoeing during our honeymoon, and I thought it’d be a nice throwback to happier days. We were good together once. We could be good together again.

Unfortunately, neither of us had gone canoeing in years, and our skills were…rusty, to say the least.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” Alessandra said as the boat wobbled.

She glanced around us with trepidation. The nearest boaters were mere pinpricks in the distance. “We should’ve asked for a guide.”

“We don’t need a guide.” I shifted, the canoe rocking with my movement. “We’re perfectly capable of maneuvering a little wooden boat.”

She glanced back at me. “Is this another one of those man things? Like how you guys refuse to ask for directions when you’re lost, but now you’re refusing to ask for help when you’re in danger of tipping over.”

“We’re in the middle of a lagoon,” I pointed out. “The time for a guide has long passed.” Besides, I wanted Alessandra to myself; I didn’t want a random third wheel ruining our date. “Trust me. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” She sounded doubtful.

Despite her misgivings, our canoe steadied the farther we went. My tension eased, and I settled back to enjoy our surroundings. I understood why Alessandra loved Florianópolis so much. It was—

“Oh my God!” She gasped. “Is that a dolphin?”

“I don’t think there are—Ále, no!” It was too late. She twisted her body to the right, and the canoe tipped over, dumping us into the cold water.

Her scream and my curse warped the peaceful air. Then water closed in overhead, and all was silent until we resurfaced with a chorus of coughs and splutters. Luckily, we’d dislodged ourselves during the fall and avoided getting trapped under the boat, but treading water in the middle of a fucking lagoon hadn’t been part of my game plan.

I let out another, more colorful curse.

I glanced at Alessandra, whose shoulders shook as she covered her face.

Alarm edged out my annoyance. “What is it? Are you hurt?” Had she hit her head on her way down? It would take a while to right the canoe, and we were at least—

A familiar sound leaked between her fingers. Was she… laughing?

She removed her hands from her face. No, she wasn’t laughing. She was fucking howling to the point where her laughter no longer made a sound.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, tears of mirth filling her eyes. “I just… you look like…”

I narrowed my eyes even as my mouth twitched. I didn’t find our situation particularly funny, but it was impossible to see her smile and not want to smile too. “Like what? A dolphin?” I asked pointedly.

“No,” she said with zero apology. “You look like a drowned rat.”

Shock submerged me more thoroughly than the water when we’d tipped over. “I sure as fuck don’t.”

“I’m sorry, but you do.” Alessandra’s laughter finally subsided, but amusement lingered on her face. “You can’t see yourself. I can, so my observation carries more—” She squealed when a splash of water hit her in the face. She wiped the droplets from her eyes and stared at me. “Did you just splash me?”

I shrugged. “It was an accident.”

The words had barely left my mouth before she retaliated, and we ended up in a splashing war. Laughter and shrieks filled the air. We were acting like children let loose on the beach, and I could barely breathe past her watery assaults, but there was something exhilarating about not giving a shit. It didn’t matter that we were acting silly and immature; it was fucking fun.

By the time we called a truce, we were so drenched we looked like we’d taken a shower in our clothes. Twice.

Alessandra’s mascara formed twin black tracks down her cheeks. Her hair was tangled, and not a single trace of her lipstick remained.

“I know,” she said when she caught me staring. “You’re not the only one who looks like a drowned rat.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Then what were you thinking?” The volume of her voice tapered off as I closed the distance between us.

I brushed a stray droplet of water from her forehead before it reached her eye. “I was thinking…” My hand lowered and lingered by her cheek.

“That you’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

Our breaths rose and fell over the soft laps of the water. The last echoes of our laughter disappeared and gave way to warm, heavy anticipation.

Alessandra’s lips parted. She didn’t pull away as I gathered her hair in a gentle fist and dipped my head, inch by agonizing inch, until our mouths touched.

Some kisses were a product of passion. Others were an outpouring of emotion. But this one? This one was a fucking revelation.

Because when Alessandra angled her chin up and kissed me back, I finally understood, if only for a moment in time, what true contentment felt like.

No yearning, no chasing, no worries. Just her and us. It was all I needed.