King of Wrath (Kings of Sin)

VIVIAN 

On Monday, I picked up takeout from the Moondust Diner and brought it to Dante’s office for lunch. A burger and his favorite black and white shake for him; a chicken sandwich and a strawberry shake for me.

It was a throwback to our first date and an olive branch on my part.

Dante was the one who needed to extend the branch, but if I shut down whenever he shut down, we’d never get anywhere. I didn’t want us to be one of those couples who stewed in passive-aggressive silence.

Plus, there had to be a good reason why Dante was acting so weird, and I was determined to find out what it was.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lau.” Stacey, the receptionist for the Russo Group’s executive floor, greeted me with a bright smile.

“Hi, Stacey. I brought some lunch for Dante.” I held up the paper bags.

“Is he in his office?”

It was my first time showing up unannounced at his workplace. He could’ve eaten lunch already, but knowing him, he hadn’t. If we didn’t eat together, he was likely to skip his afternoon meals altogether.

“Yes, but he’s in a meeting,” she said after a brief moment of hesitation.

“I’m not sure when he’ll be out.”

“That’s all right. I can wait for him in the guest lounge.”

I could easily answer emails and check in with the wedding vendors on my phone while I waited. The Legacy Ball was my top priority for now, but once it was over, I needed to double down on wedding prep.

“Are you sure?” Stacey sounded doubtful.

When I reassured her I was okay with waiting, she relented.

The floor had emptied for lunch, and my flats fell softly on white marble as I made my way through the office.

The Russo Group’s corporate headquarters was a study in sleek modernity mixed with Old World elegance. Black lacquer and glass reflected ornate gold accents and gilt-framed paintings; lush flowers blossomed next to sculptural stoneware painted in varying neutral shades.

The guest lounge sat at the far end of the floor, but I only made it halfway when I heard a familiar voice—one that didn’t belong to Dante.

My stride broke a few feet outside Dante’s office. The tinted windows prevented me from seeing inside, but the tense conversation within bled through the door.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” My father’s harsh timbre skated down my spine, leaving trails of ice in its wake.

If the rest of the floor hadn’t been so quiet, I wouldn’t have been able to hear him. As it stood, his words came through faint but clear.

My heart picked up pace. I’d planned to check on him later as Agnes had suggested, but I never would’ve guessed he would be here. Right now, in Dante’s office, without so much as a warning or notice.

My father rarely visited New York during the work week, and he never dropped in without telling me either before or right after he landed.

So what was he doing here on a random Monday afternoon?

“I know precisely what I’ve done,” Dante drawled. Low. Dark. Deadly.

“The last time you showed up uninvited, you had the upper hand. You used my brother to get to me. I’ve simply evened the scales.”

His brother. Luca.

My stomach hollowed. What had my father done?

“No, you haven’t. You didn’t find all of them.” Despite his confident delivery, my father’s voice dipped toward the end. It was a nervous tic I’d picked up on when I was a teenager.

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here,” Dante said, sounding at once amused and indifferent. “You would’ve run to Romano with one of your backups. Yet you took the time out of your busy workday to fly to New York and see me. It doesn’t scream upper hand anymore, Francis. It screams pathetic.” A small rustle. “I suggest you return to Boston and deal with your company instead of embarrassing yourself further. I’ve heard it could use some help.”

A long silence followed, punctuated by the rapid thuds of my heart.

“You’re responsible for the fake reports.” Realization, fury, and a hint of panic rolled beneath my father’s accusation, threatening to split it apart at the seams.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dante’s tone maintained its indifference. “But it seems serious. All the more reason for you to leave and get a handle on things before the press catches wind of it. You know how…

vicious they can get once they scent blood.”

“Fuck the press!” My father’s voice escalated into a shout. “What the fuck did you do to my company, Russo?”

“Nothing it didn’t deserve. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

The paper bags crumpled in my fist. Blood roared in my ears, making their conversation that much harder to hear, but I forced myself to strain and listen.

I had to know what they were talking about.

I had to confirm the horrible inkling in my stomach…even if it destroyed me.

“Vivian will never forgive you for this.” My father’s snarl was that of a wounded tiger. I’d never heard him so angry, not even when Agnes and I broke his favorite Ming vase while playing hide and seek as children.

A brief, loaded pause.

“You’re assuming I care what she thinks.” Dante’s voice was so cold it turned my blood to ice. “Might I remind you I was forced into this engagement? I never willingly chose her as my fiancée. You blackmailed me into it, Francis, and now, your leverage is gone. So don’t come into my fucking office and try to use your daughter to save yourself. It won’t work.”

“If you don’t care, then why haven’t you broken the engagement yet?”

my father taunted. “Like you said, you were forced into it. The first thing you should’ve done after getting rid of the photos was get rid of her. ”

A painful crack in my chest drowned out Dante’s reply. A burn ignited somewhere north of my heart and spread behind my eyes, so intense I feared it would leave nothing except ashes behind.

I was forced into this engagement…

I never willingly chose her…

You blackmailed me into it…

The words echoed in my head like a nightmare stuck on a broken loop.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Why Dante agreed to marry me when he didn’t need my father’s business, money, or connections.

Why he’d been so cold toward me at the start of our engagement.

Why Luca had disliked me, and why my intuition had always questioned the reasoning Dante gave for the engagement. I’d overlooked the flimsiness of the market access excuse because it’d been the only plausible one at the time, but now…

The omelet I ate for breakfast rose in my throat. My skin flushed hot, then cold, while an army of invisible spiders crawled over my arms and chest.

I should leave before they caught me eavesdropping, but I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stand there while my world crumbled around me.

I never willingly chose her.

You blackmailed me into it.

The burn liquefied and blurred my vision. The astronomy date, the Paris trip, and all the little moments in between.

Had he been pretending this whole time? Trying to make the most out of a bad situation instead of—

A burst of laughter down the hall yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts.

My head jerked up in time to see two suited men walking toward me, filled with the type of swagger one only possessed if they sat in the C-suite of a multibillion-dollar company.

Their arrival broke the immobility spell holding me hostage.

The one on the right noticed me first, but by the time his face lit with recognition, I was already rushing past him, my head ducked and my gaze fixed on the floor ahead.

Just get to the exit. Get to the exit and go downstairs. That’s all you need to do.

Five more steps.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

I burst into the lobby like a swimmer gasping for air.

I shoved the food at an alarmed-looking Stacey and mumbled something about a work emergency before I jabbed at the elevator button.

Thankfully, it came in seconds.

I stepped inside, the car plummeted toward the ground, and I finally, finally let my tears fall.

DANTE

“If you don’t care, then why haven’t you broken the engagement yet?”

Francis’s eyes glinted with challenge. “Like you said, you were forced into it. The first thing you should’ve done after getting rid of the photos was get rid of her.”

Red crept into my vision. He said getting rid of her so easily, like he was discussing a piece of furniture instead of his daughter.

How a piece of shit like Francis shared genes with Vivian, I’d never understand.

He looked like shit now, too. Sallow complexion. Dark circles. Grooves of exhaustion in his face. Christian’s meddling with his company’s internal affairs had taken its toll on him.

I would’ve taken greater pleasure in his suffering had the mention of Vivian not been a stab to the chest.

Shutting her out for a week had been painful enough. Hearing her name come out of her dirtbag father’s mouth, knowing what it meant for our relationship…

I clenched my jaw and forced my expression to remain neutral.

“Our conversation is done.” I sidestepped Francis’s question and deliberately checked my watch. “You’ve already wasted my lunch hour.

Leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

“Those reports are bullshit.” Francis’s knuckles popped from the force of his grip on the armrests. “I’ve worked decades to build my company. You were still a fetus when I started Lau Jewels, and I won’t let a silver spoon-fed, nepotistic child like you ruin it.”

“You were all too happy to have said silver spoon-fed, nepotistic child marry your daughter,” I said silkily. “To the point where you fucked up and blackmailed him. I don’t like being threatened, Francis. And I always pay it back threefold. Now…” I tapped my desk phone. “Do I need to call my guards, or are you capable of walking yourself out?”

Francis trembled with outrage, but he wasn’t stupid enough to test me any further. He’d stormed in half an hour ago, full of fire and bravado.

Now, he looked as pathetic and powerless as he really was.

He pushed his chair back and left without another word.

The door slammed behind him, rattling the paintings on the wall.

That fucker. He was lucky none of them fell.

I barely had a chance to enjoy the silence before a knock sounded.

For Christ’s sake, what did a guy have to do for some actual quiet and work time?

“Come in.”

The door opened, revealing a nervous-looking Stacey. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Russo,” she said. “But your fiancée dropped off lunch for you. I wanted to get it to you while it’s still hot.”

The temperature instantly dropped ten degrees.

A buzz of trepidation crawled over me and snaked into my veins. “My fiancée? When was she here?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago? She said she was going to wait for you in the guest lounge, but she left in a hurry and dropped this at my desk.” Stacey raised two takeout bags in the air. They were stamped with the Moondust Diner’s distinctive black and silver logo.

The buzz turned into a thousand icy needles piercing my skin. Vivian wouldn’t have left without saying hi unless…

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I stood so abruptly I banged my knee against the underside of my desk.

I didn’t even register my pain through the rush of blood in my ears.

“Where are you…” Stacey faltered when I yanked my jacket off the back of my desk chair and brushed past her into the hall.

“Have Helena cancel the rest of my in-person meetings today when she gets back.” I forced the words past my tight throat. “I’m working from home for the rest of the day.”

I was already halfway to the exit when she replied.

“What about your food?” she called after me. Stacey sounded panicked, like my missing lunch would be cause for firing her.

“Keep it.” I didn’t give a shit if she ate it, fed it to the pigeons, or used it for performance art in the middle of goddamned Fifth Avenue.

Ten interminable minutes later—that damn elevator moved at the speed of a snail on morphine—I exited the building, my skin clammy and my heartbeat spiking with sudden, indescribable panic.

I didn’t know how, but I knew with bone-deep certainty Vivian was at home instead of her office.

My apartment was only five blocks away. Walking was faster than taking a car, though not necessarily safer. I was so distracted by the dread leaking into my stomach I almost got mowed down twice, once by a foul-mouthed bike messenger and once by a cab taking a corner too fast.

By the time I entered the cool, air-conditioned foyer of my penthouse, my mouth tasted like pennies and a thin sheen of sweat misted my skin.

I shouldn’t be this twisted over the fact Vivian might’ve overheard me talking with her father. Everything I’d said had been the truth, and she would find out sooner or later. Hell, I’d been bracing myself for this moment since Paris.

But there was a difference between theory and reality. And the reality was, when I stopped in the doorway of our room and saw her open suitcase on our bed, I felt like I’d been sucker punched in the gut and dragged over hot coals, all in the space of two minutes.

Vivian walked out of the closet with an armful of clothes. Her steps halted when she saw me, and a painful, breathless silence stretched between us before she moved again.

She dumped her clothes on the bed while I watched, my heart pounding hard enough to bruise.

“Were you going to leave without telling me?” Roughness edged my question.

“I’m doing you a favor.” Vivian didn’t look at me, but her hands shook as she folded and packed her clothes. “I’m saving you from a hard conversation. I heard you, Dante. You don’t want me here. You never wanted me here. So I’m leaving.”

There it was. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She’d learned the truth, and this was her way of dealing with it.

My hands fisted.

She was right. She was doing me a favor. If she left, no questions asked, she’d sever the last tie I had to the Laus with little to no effort on my part. I could wipe my hands clean of her family and move on.

And yet…

“That’s it? After eight months, after finding out what your father did…”

And what I did… “That’s all you have to say?”

Vivian finally looked up. Red rimmed her eyes, but fire flashed in the brown depths.

“What do you want me to say?” she demanded. “Do you want me to ask what my father had on you? To ask whether the past two months meant anything, or if you were just trying to make the most out of a shitty situation until you could get rid of me? Do you want me to tell you how devastating it is to find out your father is…is…” Her voice broke. She turned away, but not before I glimpsed the tear streaking down her cheek.

My chest crushed like ice beneath a speeding truck.

“Do you know how it feels to learn your fiancé was only with you because he was forced into it? To think we were actually getting closer when you secretly hated me? Not that I blame you.” She let out a bitter laugh. “If I were in your position, I would hate me too.”

It took every ounce of effort to swallow past the lump in my throat.

“I don’t hate you,” I said, my voice low.

I’ve never hated you.

No matter what Vivian did, or who she was related to, I could never hate her. It was the one thing I hated about myself.

“Your father had…incriminating photos of my brother.” I didn’t know why I was explaining. She’d made it clear she didn’t care, but I kept talking anyway, the words falling out faster the more she packed. “He would’ve died if they landed in the wrong hands.”

I told her about the backups, her father’s ultimatum, and his insistence I keep her in the dark about the blackmail. I told her about the Paris call and even how I figured out there were eight copies of the evidence.

When I finished, her skin was two shades paler than when I’d started.

“And my father’s company?”

A lengthy silence pervaded the space.

That was the one part I’d left out. An important part, but one that made my heart pinch when I finally said,

“I did what I had to do. No one threatens a Russo.”

My gaze fixed on Vivian while she processed my reply. The air crackled with a thousand tiny stinging wasps on my skin.

How would she react to my veiled confession? With anger? Shock?

Disappointment?

Regardless of her feelings toward her father right now, I couldn’t imagine she’d be okay with me tampering with her family’s company.

But to my surprise, Vivian didn’t betray any visible emotion beyond a tightening of her features.

“I’m sorry for what my father did,” she said. “But why are you telling me this now? You were fine with keeping me in the dark until now.”

My hands fisted again. “I wanted to clear the air,” I said stiffly.

“Before…” You left. “We parted ways.”

If you don’t care, then why haven’t you broken the engagement yet?

Francis’s question haunted me. I could’ve told her any time over the past week, but I’d stalled. Made excuses. Told myself I was preparing her for our break by pulling away when, in reality, I simply hadn’t been ready to let her go.

But time was up. I chose vengeance over Vivian, and these were the consequences.

No more stalling.

“I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of this. You were never at fault.

But I had to protect my family, and this is…” The words lodged like a knife in my throat before I forced them out. “This is just business.”

The taste of pennies returned, but I kept my expression detached even when every instinct screamed at me to cross the room, hold her, kiss her, and never let her go.

I’d let emotion rule for too long. It was time for logic to rule again.

Even if she forgave me for what I did to her family, we couldn’t move forward when her father and I hated each other’s guts. And if I stayed with her, her father would still win. He’d know Vivian was a weakness I couldn’t afford to have, and he’d use it to exploit the situation any way he could.

For both our sakes, it was better for us to split up.

No matter how much it hurt.

Vivian stared at me. A gallery of emotions flickered through her eyes before a shutter slammed down.

“Right,” she said softly. She closed her suitcase and hauled it off the bed. She stopped in front of me, twisted her engagement ring off her finger, and placed it in my hand. “Just business.”

She brushed past me, leaving the faint scent of apples and a horrible ache in my chest behind.

I closed my fist around the ring. It was cold and lifeless against my palm.

My throat worked with a hard swallow.

Vivian hadn’t packed all her things. Most of her clothes still hung in the closet. Her perfume bottles were on the dresser, a vase of her favorite flowers next to them.

Yet the room had never felt emptier.