King of Greed (Kings of Sin, 3)

“You what?” Sloane’s face filled my screen with disapproval. “Why would you agree to go on a date with your ex-husband? Are you high? Do I need to fly down for an intervention?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I told him one date and that it doesn’t mean we’re dating, which means we can see other people.”

“Are you actually seeing other people?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “But I will once I’m back in New York.” It’d been two days since my mother’s wedding, and I was catching my friends up on everything that’d happened over the past week. My mother had left for her honeymoon yesterday and Marcelo had returned to São Paulo that morning because he couldn’t miss any more work—he’d only been granted an extra day off because of the wedding—which meant I was alone in my family’s Rio apartment.

I hadn’t decided when I’d return to the city yet. It was already mid-December, so I might as well stay here through the New Year. According to Isabella, everything was progressing smoothly with the physical store, and my online shop was still on hiatus. I didn’t need to be in New York.

“You’re dating someone you divorced two months ago,” Vivian said gently. “We’re just worried you’re…”

“Backsliding,” Isabella supplied. “A rich, hot guy flying all the way to Brazil to win you back? I don’t blame you for caving, but it doesn’t solve your core issues. Right?”

“No, and I’m not caving.” My response contained the ring of a half-truth. “I know Dominic. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants. This way, I can go on a date with him and call it a day.”

I made it sound far easier than it was, but Dominic had too much pride to stand by and beg for attention while I dated other men. I gave him a month tops before he bowed out.

“Maybe.” Isabella didn’t look convinced. “I hope you know what you’re doing, babe. We don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

A knock interrupted our call. There were no groceries in the fridge, so I’d ordered in for breakfast.

I promised my friends I’d update them on the Dominic situation and hung up. I crossed the living room and opened the front door, expecting to see the delivery guy with my açaí bowl.

Instead, broad shoulders and lean muscles filled the doorway. My eyes traveled over white cotton and the strong, tanned expanse of his throat to meet a pair of dark blue eyes.

“Did you eat yet?” Dominic asked before I could ask what the hell he was doing at my mom’s apartment at nine in the morning.

“My food’s on the way.”

“Let me guess. Açai from Mimi Sucos?”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe.” I wasn’t that predictable. Was I?

“Cancel it,” he said with so much self-assurance I almost pulled up the delivery app right then and there. “We’re going somewhere better.”

“Where?” Mimi Sucos had the best açai in town.

A hint of mischief creased his cheeks, and my heart fluttered with reluctant anticipation. “You’ll see.”

I’d expected Dominic to take me to a fancy brunch spot or a nice beach for a private picnic…and he did.

In Florianópolis.

Located an hour and a half south of Rio by plane, Floripa (as it was known by locals) was a mecca of hidden coves, stunning beaches, and lush hiking trails. Half of it lay on the mainland, the other half on Santa Catarina Island, and it was my favorite place in Brazil along with Bahia.

Dominic’s jet touched down in Floripa two hours after he showed up at my door. A private car met us on the tarmac and whisked us to the city’s most luxurious resort.

“Much better than Mimi’s, isn’t it?” he said as two servers arranged a veritable feast on the table.

We sat on the balcony of the presidential suite overlooking the beach.

Sunbathers dotted the white sand like ants, and the wind carried the faint sound of waves and laughter toward us.

“You’re unbelievable.” I shook my head even as my stomach grumbled at the smell of fresh scrambled eggs and straight-out-of-the-oven pastries.

I’d had a snack on the plane, but there was nothing like a basket of buttery pao de queijo to tempt a girl into carb overload. “This is too much. A simple brunch in Rio would’ve sufficed.”

“Not for our first date.” A light breeze swept past, ruffling Dominic’s hair. He’d acquired a tan since he’d arrived in Brazil, and he looked relaxed and casual in a white T-shirt and shorts. “You deserve the best,” he said simply.

Temptation battled with self-preservation. I should keep my guard up, but it was hard when I was surrounded by the things I loved.

Food. Sea. Sun. Dominic.

I banished the last thought as I grabbed a cheese bread and ripped it in two. Remember. No caving, I warned the butterflies crowding my stomach. I would eat the free food, enjoy the free trip, and leave. That was all.

“It was either Florianópolis or Bahia, but it’s been longer since you’ve visited Floripa.” Dominic nodded a thank you at the servers, who retreated and closed the balcony doors with quiet discretion. “So here we are. We can make a long weekend out of it.”

I drowned the swarming butterflies with a gulp of orange juice and switched topics. “Don’t you need to go back to New York soon? You’ve been gone for a while.”

Except for client meetings, he could do his job remotely, but Dominic liked to know exactly what was happening in his office. Davenport Capital was his kingdom, and he ruled it with an iron fist. I didn’t believe for a second that he’d leave it in others’ hands for this long.

“I’m staying on top of things while I’m here,” he said, confirming my belief.

“Right.”

We ate in silence for a while. It was a tentative quiet, the type that sprouted from uncertainty rather than discomfort. How did you act during a first date with someone you’d been married to for ten years?

Talking about the weather was too mundane; talking about anything else was too dangerous. Every time I opened my mouth to make conversation, something about the topic reminded me of us.

Hiking trails in Florianópolis reminded me of the time we’d hiked in upstate New York.

The latest action blockbuster reminded me of our popcorn-fueled Fast and Furious marathons during the early days of our relationship.

My mother’s Instagram stories from her honeymoon in Fiji reminded me of our honeymoon in Jamaica. We couldn’t afford anything fancy back then, so we’d rented a cozy, semi-rundown cottage by the ocean and spent the week swimming, eating, and having sex. It’d been one of the best weeks of my life.

Aching nostalgia threaded its way through my heartstrings. I’d told Dominic there was no use living in the past, but I’d give anything to turn back time so I could savor our happy days second by second. That was the irony of life. People always reminisced about the good old days, but we never appreciated living in those days until they were gone.

“I ran into my brother recently,” Dominic said, his voice quiet. My head jerked up at his abrupt and unexpected shift in tone.

He’d had many foster siblings growing up, but there was only one he’d ever referred to as his brother.

“Roman?”

Dominic rarely talked about his family. I knew his father was dead, his mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, and he’d hated every foster home he’d been placed in. He’d mentioned he and Roman had been close before the latter went to juvie for arson, but that was about it.

“Yes. I ran into him at the bar after you left the bathroom…” My cheeks heated at the reminder of what we’d done in said bathroom. “And he was at the Le Boudoir opening.”

My heart stuttered beneath the blow of surprise. I’d been acquainted with pretty much everyone at Le Boudoir. The only person I hadn’t recognized was…

An image of cold green eyes and pale skin surfaced in my mind’s eye.

“The man who bumped into me.” Realization chilled my skin. I’d pushed him out of my mind, but few people disconcerted me as quickly and thoroughly as he had. “That was Roman?”

Based on Dominic’s previous descriptions, I’d pictured a lanky boy with a buzz cut and sullen expression, not someone who looked like they moonlighted as a killer. Then again, he hadn’t seen his brother since they were teenagers. Of course Roman was different now.

Dominic gave a curt nod. He gave me a quick rundown of their interactions since they had run into each other, which wasn’t much. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since the dinner. I have someone tracking him down, but there’s been nothing yet.”

“Maybe he finished his work in the city and left,” I suggested.

“He hasn’t left the city,” Dominic said flatly. “If he had, he wouldn’t be this hard to track.”

True. If someone with Dominic’s money and resources couldn’t find him…A niggle of unease wormed through my stomach. “He wouldn’t hurt you though, would he? You two were close.”

“Were being the operative word. I don’t think he ever forgave me for not being his alibi when he was arrested.” A shadow crossed Dominic’s face. “I looked for him a few times over the years, but he was a ghost. I thought he’d died.”

I picked up on the tiniest kernel of guilt in his tone.

Dominic didn’t have many close friends, but he was loyal to those who were loyal back. He’d mentioned once that Roman had taken the rap for him multiple times when they were young. One time, Dominic had stolen cash from his foster mother for a bus ticket to a nearby college tour. Roman had covered for him and said he’d taken the money for a date. In retaliation, their foster mom had hit him with a belt so hard he hadn’t been able to sleep on his back for days.

Dominic never said it, but I knew he harbored regrets over how things with Roman had ended.

“Do you want a relationship with him again?” I asked gently. “It’s been a long time since you were brothers. You’re not the same people anymore.”

“I don’t trust him.” He evaded a direct answer. “I want to know what the hell he’s doing in New York and what he’s been up to since he got out of juvie. That’s all.”

I had a feeling Dominic wasn’t telling me everything. He had a lot of unresolved issues with his brother, but even if we had still been married, it wasn’t my place to help him heal that part of his past. Some journeys were meant to be taken alone.

A loud peal of laughter drifted up from another balcony and dispelled the brooding aftermath of Dominic’s statement.

He wiped a hand over his face with a rueful laugh. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t the conversation I’d planned for our first date, but you asked about New York and…” His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to talk to about these things.”

“I know,” I said softly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

This was the Dominic I missed. The one who opened up and talked to me instead of hiding behind his masks and money. He was afraid people would leave if they saw behind the curtain, but the parts hidden there were what made him human. Some wanted the myth and legend of Dominic Davenport; I wanted the man.

Used to want. Past tense, a stern voice reminded me. Don’t forget this isn’t a real date.

I didn’t forget. But it also wasn’t a coincidence that, in a day filled with private jets and lavish meals and luxury suites, my favorite part had been a simple conversation about Dominic’s family.

The opulence didn’t touch my defenses, but the vulnerability chipped at my walls until a tiny section of them crumbled.