King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)

My family hadn’t called me pequeño toro for nothing.

Last night, I’d stayed outside Sloane’s apartment until her neighbor came home and threatened to call the cops. Normally, that wouldn’t have deterred me—the worst they could do was charge me with loitering—but Sloane wasn’t going to change her mind and throw herself into my arms the same day we broke up.

I needed a new strategy.

I spent the entire train ride to DC that morning agonizing over it. Sloane said she didn’t love me, but her reaction hadn’t been that of someone who didn’t care. I’d never seen her so distraught, and as much as it killed me to know she was hurting, her pain was a good thing. It meant she felt something; if she didn’t, she would’ve simply dismissed me the way she had Mark.

Ironically, the stronger her feelings, the more likely she was to shut down and pull away. Sloane was afraid of getting hurt again, but no amount of reassurances on my part could convince her she wouldn’t get hurt somewhere down the line thanks to Fuckface Bentley. She had to come to that conclusion herself.

The question was, how could I get through to her?

Because there was no way in fucking hell I was taking our breakup at face value. Not when it looked like it’d destroyed Sloane as much as it had me.

I don’t want you here. You love me, and I don’t feel the same toward you. So go!

A vise squeezed my chest. I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to wipe the image of Sloane’s tortured expression from my mind.

“Would you like another moment to daydream about frivolity, or can we commence our meeting?” A cold voice dragged me back to the present. It was as welcoming as a sea of cacti, but at least it successfully banished thoughts of my breakup—for now.

Alex Volkov observed me from the other side of his desk. He radiated displeasure, but he was here, which was a semi-good sign. “I had to postpone a family trip to the zoo to be here, so let’s make this quick,” he said. “You have ten minutes.”

I tried to imagine Alex pushing a stroller around the zoo, but the only way I could see him stepping foot in the place was if he was magically transformed into one of those vicious jungle cats they kept in locked enclosures.

“Look on the bright side,” I said, attempting levity. “I’m sure the zoo will still be there in ten minutes unless the Smithsonian really pissed someone off.”

He stared at me, expressionless, but I could’ve sworn the temperature dropped thirty degrees.

Right. I forgot Alex possessed roughly the same amount of humor as a rock.

I gave him a quick overview of what happened with the fire. He knew all this already, but the recap provided an opportunity to gauge his reaction in person.

He’d been oddly calm about the destruction of one of his most valuable properties. Granted, he wasn’t exactly an emotive person, but I’d expected something. A strong rebuke, a sniper across from my townhouse…hell, even a frown.

He didn’t give me any of that.

“I see,” he said after I finished. The bitter residue of guilt lingered in my mouth, but it vaporized at his next words. “I looked into it. The fire wasn’t the result of a freak electrical accident. It was sabotage.”

Sabotage. The word detonated like an atomic bomb. Shockwaves rippled through the room, and I stared at Alex, sure he was joking if it weren’t for the fact he didn’t joke. Ever. “What are you talking about?”

“My team investigated the fire since I can’t trust those insurance idiots to produce a single ounce of competence,” Alex said. “The wiring was old, but it didn’t explode by itself. Someone gave it a hand.”

“There was no one in there except me, Vuk, Willow, and the construction crew,” I said. “The crew members were thoroughly vetted by Harper.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been one of them. Whoever did it snuck in before the workers arrived, shaved off the insulation on the remaining good wires, and repositioned them to maximize their chances of exposure.”

Christ. It was like I’d gone to sleep and woke up in the middle of a Nate Reynolds movie. “Your team managed to ascertain all that from a burned-down vault?”

Alex’s smile didn’t contain a single trace of warmth. “I hire the best.”

If he was worried about the saboteur targeting another one of his buildings, he didn’t show it.

Sabotage. I turned the word and its implications over in my head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Who would want to sabotage the vault to the point of committing arson?” The nightlife industry was cutthroat, but most of the players shied away from outright crimes unless they were in the mob. If they were in the mob, the type of establishment they ran was vastly different from mine; there was no threat there.

“I have my fair share of enemies. So does Vuk. So do you.” Alex sounded bored, like we were discussing the weather instead of arson. “Hunting down the culprit will take time, but I will find them.”

Finally, there it was—a speck of icy rage that belied Alex’s outward composure. Whoever the culprit was, they were in for a world of pain once he tracked them down.

“I don’t have enemies,” I said. Competitors, sure. People who didn’t like me, absolutely. But enemies? I wasn’t in the mafia. I didn’t have people who wanted to kill me or hurt the people close to me.

“Everyone that’s rich and in the public eye has enemies, even if they don’t know it,” Alex said. He tapped his watch; it’d been ten minutes. “I’ll take care of the saboteur. You take care of repairing the damage.”

I’d forgotten about my impending decision regarding the club’s future; I’d been too distracted by Sloane and this meeting with Alex.

Kai had a point about my martyr act, but unless I discovered a way to freeze time, I would never get the club up and running by the deadline.

I told Alex as much.

“That bears no relevance to our situation,” he said, checking his watch again. “Were you not the one who told Markovic you’ll get it done, no matter what? ‘If you say no, the club will still open. If I don’t secure the vault, I’ll find another location. It’s not ideal, but business isn’t always about the ideal. It’s about getting things done, and I’ll get it done with or without you.’”

I grimaced. It was eerie hearing my conversation with another person quoted back to me verbatim.

“You wanted something of your own; well, this is your chance,” Alex said. “Unless, of course, you lied and only started the club for your inheritance. If that’s the case, I gravely misjudged you, and I do not like being wrong.” His green eyes glinted with warning. “Make a decision by noon on January first.”

He stood and left me alone in his office, his words hanging like a guillotine ready to fall.

There was nothing like being reprimanded by a man who did not give one flying fuck about you to put things into perspective quickly.

Alex may have been invested in the club, but he wasn’t personally invested me, and he’d cut straight to the heart of the matter.

He was also right. The Vault started as a necessity because of my inheritance but it quickly became a passion project. I liked building a business. I loved the thrills, the challenges, and the creation of something that was mine. Was I really going to let an arbitrary deadline ruin that for me?

I didn’t need until January first to get my answer; I had it by the time I returned to New York later that day.

However, I held off on telling Alex; I had another, much more urgent matter to attend to. My trial period with Sloane officially ended tomorrow, and I needed to get through to her before then.

My meeting with Alex had preoccupied me enough to dull the pain of last night, but when Sloane’s office building came into view, a gut-wrenching ache resurfaced.

I want to break up.

You love me, and I don’t feel the same toward you.

The ache sharpened into a knife and twisted. Other men might’ve given up after being so thoroughly dismissed, and I would’ve had I thought she meant it. But the only thing worse than hearing those words come out of Sloane’s mouth was seeing her face when she said them. Her anguish had mirrored mine, and I hated how much hurt she had to have experienced to be so afraid of love.

Or maybe I was just fucking delusional.

Either way, it wasn’t over yet. There were minutes left until the buzzer, but I still had a chance to turn the tide and score a comeback victory. That shred of hope was the only thing that kept me going because the thought of losing Sloane…

It’s not going to happen. You won’t lose her.

I couldn’t. Not when I’d just found her. Not when losing her meant losing a crucial piece of myself in the process.

My heart pounded painfully as I entered the building, but anxiety melted into confusion when I arrived at Kensington PR and found Jillian and several junior publicists crowded outside Sloane’s office, their ears literally pressed to the door.

“What…?”

“Shh.” Jillian placed a finger over her mouth. Perry, she mouthed.

Oh, fuck.

I came up beside her and snuck a peek through the window. Sloane hadn’t fully closed her blinds, revealing a glimpse of the drama unfolding inside.

Perry Wilson, the gossip guru himself, gesticulated wildly. It was only the second time I’d seen him in person, and once again, I was struck by how ordinary he looked.

Signature blond highlights and pink bow tie aside, he could’ve passed for any random man I passed on the street. He couldn’t be taller than five-five or five-six, his scrawny frame squeezed into a blazer and jeans. For someone with so much bravado behind the keyboard, he was awfully small in person.

His voice, however, was loud enough to bleed through the door. “I know it was you. You’re the one who planted those false tips for me.”

Sloane sat behind her desk, observing him with a bored expression. “Perry, darling, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a publicist with legitimate business concerns. I don’t have time to engage in the type of subterfuge you’re accusing me of.” She tapped her phone. “You’re already being sued for libel. Don’t add slander to the mix.”

Perry’s face turned the same color as his tie. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Sloane. They told me Tilly overhead you discussing the affair at the Russos’ holiday party. Now Soraya’s stupid minions have gotten me banned from social media, and that libel suit is bullshit.”

“Good. Then you shouldn’t be concerned about it,” Sloane said. “As for your eyes and ears, perhaps they should’ve factchecked for you before you uploaded that post. This is the twenty-first century, Perry. If you can’t handle a twenty-two-year-old and her fans, you might want to switch careers. I hear Fast and Furriness is looking for a new copywriter.”

Perry quaked with indignation. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Please, spare me the cliché villain lines.” Sloane sighed. “I have clients to attend to, and you have advertisers to appease before they all flee your sinking ship.”

The blogger was so furious his voice dropped to near inaudible levels, and I only heard snippets of what he said next.

Bitch…check in with your star client…not talking about the one you’re fucking.

Jillian and the other publicists scattered from the door. A minute later, Perry stormed out in a tornado of pink and cologne. “Hey, man.” I clapped my hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble as he passed. “Sorry to hear about your troubles. Good luck at Fast and Furriness.”

Perry squawked with outrage but was smart enough not to confront me physically. He stomped toward the elevator, looking not unlike a child throwing a temper tantrum, and I couldn’t believe this was the man who’d caused so many powerful people so much distress over the years.

It was like peeking behind the curtain and seeing the real Wizard of Oz. Disappointing.

Jillian giggled and didn’t stop me when I walked into Sloane’s office and closed the door behind me.

With Perry gone, the stiffness eased from her shoulders, but they tightened again when she saw me.

Sloane was obviously exhausted, but even with faint purple smudges beneath her eyes and lines of tension bracketing her mouth, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. It had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with who she was.

Smart, fierce, and so damn mine.

I should’ve recognized it sooner, and I would wait forever until she did too.

“So, Perry’s really done, huh?” I asked.

It was odd to talk about something as banal as Perry when the devastation from last night’s conversation hadn’t fully settled. The wreckage floated around us, each shard a silent reminder of what was at stake.

However, jumping right into the reason I was here would be a surefire way to make Sloane shut down. I needed to ease into things, and honestly, I’d take any excuse to talk to her again, no matter the topic.

“For now, but people like him always find a way to survive.” Sloane tapped her pen against her desk, her eyes wary. “We don’t have a meeting scheduled for today.”

“No, we don’t.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The nervous rhythm mirrored the tension dripping in the air. It was so potent I could taste it in the back of my throat, and while I wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss the hell out of her, I had to be smart about this.

I had one last chance, and I wasn’t going to fuck it up. Sloane’s throat bobbed with a swallow. “Xavier…”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t come to make a scene.” I pushed my hands into my pockets and fisted them to keep myself from reaching for her. “I came to tell you three things. One, I met with Alex this morning about the fire. He said it was sabotage.”

The tapping stopped. I could practically see the wheels in her head spinning as she processed this bit of information. “Sabotage. By who?”

“Still unclear.” I summarized the meeting for her. “It’s Alex, so he’ll figure it out and put in safeguards to ensure something similar doesn’t happen again while I repair the club.”

Sloane stilled, her eyes flaring with surprise and a wary hope that poured fresh fuel into mine. Hope meant she still cared, and if she still cared, that meant an infinitesimally larger chance of winning my upcoming gamble.

“That’s the second thing,” I said more quietly. “I’m going ahead with the Vault. You and Alex were both right, and I don’t care if I pass the deadline and don’t get my inheritance. That’s no longer what the club is about. I just needed a kick in the ass to realize it.” A sardonic smile crossed my mouth. “Or two.”

Sloane’s gaze flickered with another emotion I couldn’t name before she slammed a steel gate over it. “Good. There’s no use wasting the effort you’ve already put into it.”

“Final thing.” I took a step closer, my eyes trained on hers.

“Our trial period doesn’t end until tomorrow, which means we’re not over yet. Not officially.”

Sloane’s grip on her pen tightened. “I already made my decision.”

“It doesn’t count when there’s still time to change your mind.”

Her mouth quivered for a split second before flattening into a straight line. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Pain laced her voice, and that was enough to spur me on. I hated seeing her hurt, but if that meant I was getting through to her, I would bear it.

“I’ll make it as hard as I can,” I said fiercely. “I love you, Sloane, and if you think I’m letting you go that easily, you’re mistaken. I’ve spent half my life running from the hard stuff and taking the easy way out because I’d never wanted anything enough to work for it.” I swallowed. “Then I met you, and I finally understood what people meant when they said love is worth fighting for. I know it sounds like a cliché, and if you heard this in a movie, you’d probably write a scathing review about it”—Sloane choked out a laugh—“but I mean it. I’ve learned to fight for what’s important, and there’s nothing in this world that’s more important to me than you. Not the club, not my inheritance, not my reputation.”

I took another step closer, desperate to touch her but knowing I couldn’t.

“I know you’re afraid,” I said. “Hell, I am too. I’ve never been in love, and I’ve never wanted to be in love. I have no idea what people do in these situations, which is probably why I’m here, making an ass of myself.” A hint of self-deprecation slipped into my voice. “If you truly don’t feel anything for me, then I accept that.” Even if it kills me. “But if you do, even the tiniest bit, then don’t do what I used to do. Don’t run away from what could be because you’re afraid of what might be.”

It was blunt, but Sloane had always responded best to directness. It was one of the many things I loved about her.

“I won’t lie and say I know what our future looks like. No one does. But I do know that whatever happens, we’ll figure it together,” I said softly. “We always do.”

Sloane didn’t move, didn’t speak, but her eyes shone with suspicious brightness.

I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I was about to say. “Tomorrow, top of the Empire State Building. Meet me at midnight.” That was when our trial period officially expired. “If you don’t show…” I swallowed past the glass shards in my throat. “I’ll know what your answer is, and I’ll never mention this again.” Sloane let out another watery-sounding laugh. “Are you Sleepless in Seattle-ing me?”

“Gossip Girl, actually. Doris was a big fan,” I said with a fleeting smile. Then my face sobered, and my voice softened into something more tender. “I know you think happily ever afters are unrealistic, Luna, but they don’t have to be. You just have to believe in them enough for yourself.”

She didn’t respond. I hadn’t expected her to, but when I walked out, my heart knotted in my throat, I couldn’t help but second guess my strategy.

I’d taken a huge gamble by giving Sloane an ultimatum, but we were the same in as many ways as we were different. She needed that push.

I just hoped that in doing so, I hadn’t made the worst mistake of my life.