King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)

The harsh glare of fluorescent lights painted the hall in stark whites and shadows. Shoes squeaked, medical staff hurried past, and the smell of disinfectant clouded the air.

None of that affected Georgia, who looked like a modern Grace Kelly who’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue.

“Don’t tell me you called yourself Penny’s family at the front desk so they’d let you up,” she said. “That’s a tad ironic, isn’t it?”

Her skin glowed in a way that shouldn’t be possible beneath the unflattering lighting. She wasn’t showing yet, and her cashmere sweater and Italian wool slacks fit her Pilates-toned figure like they were custom-made (which they likely were). A four-carat heirloom diamond dazzled from her ring finger.

It was the same ring Bentley had proposed to me with.

Acid gnawed at my gut, but I met Georgia’s gaze with contempt. “Pen is family,” I said. “She was four at the time. She shouldn’t be held responsible for the poor decisions made by adults in her life.” “Penelope is a Kensington,” Caroline said coldly. “You are no longer a Kensington in anything but name, which means she’s not your family. You have no right to be here.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who pretends she doesn’t exist half the time.” I returned her glare with a chilly smile. “Don’t stay too long, Caroline, or people might mistake you for an actual mother.”

“You little—”

“Caroline.” My father placed a hand on her arm, reining her in. “Don’t.”

My stepmother sucked in a deep breath and touched the strand of diamonds around her neck. Her glare didn’t ease, but she didn’t finish her attack either.

George turned to me, his expression unreadable, and pieces of my bravado melted away like iron tossed into a fire.

It was our first face-to-face encounter since our estrangement. If seeing Bentley was akin to getting hit by a truck, seeing my father was like getting trapped in the sands of time. Every shift of grain evoked a different memory.

The timbre of his voice as we walked through Central Park Zoo for my seventh birthday and he pointed out the different animals to me.

The proud smile on his face when I was presented at my debutante ball.

The shock when I told him I was starting my own PR firm instead of settling down and popping out babies like I “should.”

The defensiveness when I accused Georgia and Bentley of sleeping together behind my back, the fury when I refused to “take their relationship in stride” and give them my blessing, and finally, the utter coldness when he gave me his ultimatum.

If you walk out that door, there’s no coming back.

The weight of our history crushed my lungs. Emotions surged through me in a jumble of old anger and fresh nostalgia, and it took everything I had not to turn and run away like the coward I prided myself on not being.

I’d had many years to imagine what our first post-estrangement meeting would be like. They ranged from ignoring one other (most plausible) to a tearful, joyful reunion (least plausible).

Confronting each other outside my sister’s hospital room after she’d almost died was so implausible that it landed fully outside that range.

“Sloane.” My father might as well be talking to his driver, for all the emotion he showed. “How did you know Penelope was here?”

The bitter pill of disappointment cracked on my tongue. What had I been expecting, a hug?

“I…” I forced myself not to look at Rhea. “I got a message from Annie.”

I felt bad about throwing her under the bus, but she was already fired. Rhea wasn’t, and Pen needed her.

Plus, I doubted my family would check with Annie. Once they fired someone, that person didn’t exist to them.

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never met that woman.” “That you know of.” I arched one brow. “How would I know who she was otherwise?” “Penelope could’ve told you.” “She could’ve. But she didn’t.”

“This is ridiculous.” My stepmother redirected her glare toward my father. “George, kick her out. She stopped being a Kensington the day she humiliated this family by leaving it—my God, the number of whispers I had to endure during my charity meetings after that—and she—”

“You can’t kick me out,” I snapped. “This is public property. You don’t own the hospital, no matter how much money you donate to it.”

“Perhaps not, but we can get a restraining order against you for lying to the hospital staff and intruding on a private family affair.”

“You can certainly try. My—”

“Enough!” my father thundered. Caroline and I lapsed into mutinous silence. “This is neither the time nor place to engage in petty squabbles.”

He turned the full force of his flinty gaze on me. “Sloane, you are legally a Kensington,” he said. “But you gave up all rights to participate in this family the day you walked out of my office. That includes contacting Penelope in any way, shape, or form. I made that clear.”

My nails dug into my palm. “She’s a kid, and she needs someone who—”

“What she needs is none of your concern. You have no more claim on her well-being than a stranger on the street.” Disappointment shadowed his face. “We could’ve solved this. I gave you an opportunity to make amends, and you ignored it. The consequences are yours to reap.”

His dismissal fell like an axe blade, severing my power of speech.

The beginnings of a storm brewed behind my ribcage, but as always, it was all sound and no fury. No rain, no tears. Just an endless, ceaseless pressure that yearned to break but couldn’t.

“Rhea, go inside Penelope’s room and stay there,” he said. “If anyone except myself, Caroline, Georgia, Bentley, or hospital staff try to enter, call security and let me know immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. Kensington,” she said quietly. She flicked a worried glance at me before she hurried past and disappeared into the room. “The doctor says Penelope is doing fine and in no danger,” my father told Georgia and Bentley. “Stay if you’d wish. I’m heading back to the office.”

“And I’m meeting Buffy Darlington at the Plaza.” Caroline gathered her coat tight around her. “We have a silent auction to plan.”

Neither acknowledged me nor checked on Pen on their way out. I wasn’t surprised they’d ignored me, but the way they bypassed Pen pissed me off. I guess I should’ve expected it; their parenting style was best described by the phrase “doing the bare minimum.” My blood hummed with the aftershocks of our confrontation.

After years of picturing the moment, it’d been both overwhelming and underwhelming, but it wasn’t over yet.

“I did not expect to see that show today.” Georgia tilted her head. “What did Daddy mean when he said he gave you an opportunity to make amends?”

Next to her, Bentley remained silent. He hadn’t said a word since he saw me, which was for the best. If he opened his mouth, I’d punch him in it. Twice.

“He emailed me about your pregnancy.” I smiled over the churn in my gut. I shouldn’t have eaten that chicken salad for lunch. “I would say congratulations, but I’m the only person here who doesn’t lie.”

Bentley had the grace to redden. Georgia didn’t.

“That’s okay,” she said with maddening calm. “The new town house Daddy bought us is congratulations enough. He’s thrilled he’s finally getting a grandchild. Speaking of which, are you still single?” She glanced at my bare ring finger, her patronizing tone grating against my already-raw nerves. “I can’t imagine why.”

Forget punching Bentley. I was inches away from punching my sister in her perfect, heart-shaped face.

“Neither can I.” The velvety interjection draped over me like a protective blanket. “That’s why I asked her out before those other idiots beat me to it.”

Warmth brushed my side. A second later, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me closer and grounding the storm brewing inside me.

Only one person had the ability to do that.

“Xavier Castillo.” Georgia straightened, her gaze sweeping over his tousled dark hair and sculpted body. He wasn’t the preppy boarding school type she’d always gravitated toward, but he exuded a raw sensuality few could match. That, plus his family’s fortune was triple that of Bentley’s.

I tensed, something green and ugly slithering through my veins at the way my sister eyed him.

Beside her, Bentley stiffened and placed a possessive hand on Georgia’s hip. She ignored him, her eyes sliding to Xavier’s arm around my waist.

“You’re dating Sloane?” Her question swam with disbelief. “Yep,” he drawled. “I chased her for months, but she finally agreed to go out with me.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “Sorry that took so long, babe. Parking was a nightmare, and the front desk initially refused to let me up because I’m not family. How’s Pen?”

“A bit banged up, but she’ll be okay.” I leaned into him, playing up the girlfriend act. We technically weren’t lying; we were dating, albeit more casually than Xavier made it seem. “Thank you for coming here with me.”

That was a hundred percent honest. “Anytime, Luna. I’ll always be here for you.”

I glanced up, my heart stilling for a split second at the sincerity in his eyes. It surprised me no matter how many times I saw it, and it scared the hell out of me.

I knew how to deal with fake people. I interacted with dozens of them every day. But genuine people were rare, and they slipped past my defenses in a way that could be disastrous.

Then again, it might be too late where Xavier was concerned.

He—

Bentley cleared his throat, derailing my train of thought and dragging our attention back his way.

“Aren’t you his publicist?” he asked, earning a sharp glance from Georgia. My client list wasn’t a secret, but it was interesting that he was so familiar with it.

“Seems like a violation of professional ethics to date a client.” We stared at him.

Shit.

Bentley wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to explain the nuances of our situation to him. To be honest, I feared that, once I went down that road and passed all my justifications, I’d find no good reason for dating Xavier other than I wanted to. He was the kryptonite to my logic, my inhibitions, my rationality, and everything else I relied on to keep me out of quagmires like this one.

Similarly, I’d gotten so caught up in wiping the smug look off Georgia’s face that I forgot we were supposed to be keeping our relationship low-key in public. We weren’t hiding it, but we didn’t flaunt it either. We didn’t want to give the city’s gossip network any fodder.

“Who I date or how I run my business is none of your concern,” I said coolly. “I’d tell you to mind yours, but you don’t have a business of your own, do you?” A small tilt of my head. “It’s sad that your family can’t buy you deals the way they bought your admission into Princeton.”

Flags of color burned high on Bentley’s cheekbones. He worked in private equity like his father, but he’d gotten the job mostly because of his connections. He also hated reminders about being wait-listed at Princeton. The only reason he’d gotten off the list was because his family donated a building.

“This is absurd,” Georgia said. Without our father or my relationship status to use against me, she’d clearly lost interest in the conversation. “We won’t stand here and let you insult us. Come on, Bentley, let’s go. We have dinner reservations at Le Boudoir.” They didn’t say a word about Pen before they left. That was my family in a nutshell. Great at surface-level sentiments like showing up; shitty at actual sentiments like following through.

Honestly, I was surprised Georgia had showed up at all. She and Pen tolerated each other at best and rarely spent time together. Georgia didn’t care for children (which was concerning, since she was pregnant), and Pen thought she was “too narcissistic.” I didn’t know where she’d learned the word narcissistic, but she wasn’t wrong.

“You have such a wonderful family,” Xavier said after Georgia and Bentley were out of earshot. “I can’t imagine why you don’t want to talk to them.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”

Now that my family was gone, the string of defiance that’d kept me upright collapsed. My shoulders sagged as adrenaline leaked from my pores, leaving me heavy and exhausted.

I stepped out of Xavier’s embrace and sank into one of the chairs lining the hall outside Pen’s room. I stared blankly at the opposite wall, my emotions a wreck after the surprise encounter with my family.

Sometimes, I wished I were the type of person who could forgive and forget. If I swallowed my hurt and anger and pretended I was happy for Georgia, that might actually be true one day. Fake it till you make it and all that.

If my sister had been a good sister, and her betrayal with Bentley were a one-off, I could be tempted to consider that route, but Georgia had never been a model sibling. She was used to being the center of attention and getting whatever she wanted. Often, what she wanted was what she couldn’t have—the one-of-a-kind porcelain doll my grandmother had gifted me for my birthday, our mother’s vintage dress for her debutante ball, and, of course, my fiancé.

She’d put up such a fuss about the doll and dress that my father “redistributed” them to her. As for Bentley, he bore a fair share of the blame. I believed in greater accountability for the cheater than the person they cheated with, but in their case, they could both jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

I heard a small rustle of clothing as Xavier sat next to me. He’d let me process silently, which I was grateful for, but I couldn’t stay catatonic forever.

“Thank you.” I turned my head to face him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lounged in his seat, the position reassuringly familiar against the impersonal hospital walls. “I merely told the truth like I always do.”

“Right. What did you tell the front desk to get them to let you up?”

“Nothing.” Xavier’s grin twinkled with mischief. “I let Benjamin do the talking. Five Benjamins, to be exact. I may have also told them I was your fiancé.”

“That has to be illegal, and you have to stop walking around with so much cash. It’s unsafe.”

“Unsafe?” He shifted, his knee grazing mine. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to care, Luna.”

“Starting, no.” I’d passed starting weeks ago; I just hadn’t known it at the time.

A rush of anxiety shot through me. Admitting I cared was akin to getting my teeth pulled out with pliers, but he’d been honest with me about his feelings. I should be honest with him (to an extent).

Xavier’s grin dimmed as the implication of my reply hit. Surprise flashed through his eyes, followed by a slow, molten warmth.

“Then we’re on the same page,” he said softly. Some of my anxiety abated. “I guess we are.”

We sat in silence for a while, watching nurses rush past and strangers come and go. Hospitals bled tears, but it was comforting, in a way. It reminded us that we weren’t alone in our grief and that the universe wasn’t targeting us. Shitty things happened to everyone.

It was a strange comfort, but it was a comfort nonetheless. “Is Pen really okay?” Xavier asked.

“Yes. I got to see her for a bit before she crashed and I ran into my family.” I picked a piece of lint off my pants. “My father and stepmother were here. They left before you came.”

“I saw them on my way up.” His voice gentled. “How was that?”

“It was how I expected it to be. The Kensingtons remain divided.” My mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “What’d you think of my sister and her husband? Charming, aren’t they?”

“That’s not the first c word that came to mind.”

A small laugh sliced through my turmoil. I didn’t know how he did it, but Xavier had a talent for making horrible situations tolerable.

“There seemed to be some tension between you and Bentley,” he said. “Beyond your antagonism with your sister.”

If he ever gave up the nightclub gig, he should join the FBI. Xavier was terrifyingly observant.

“There would be,” I said. “Considering he was my fiancé before he married my sister.”

His shocked eyes snapped up to meet mine, and my smile grew more bitter.

“Not a lot of people knew about us,” I said. “At least not in New York.”

I’d never told anyone the full story, not even my friends. They knew bits and pieces, but rehashing the memories was too painful. I’d rather lock them in a box and pretend they didn’t exist.

However, seeing Bentley again had ripped the lock right off, and I needed to share them with someone before I drowned in them.

“We met when we were both studying abroad in London,” I said. “I was a junior; he was a senior. He stayed there for a job after graduation, and we dated long-distance for a bit. He worked in investment banking at the time, and because he was always so busy, I often visited him instead of the other way around. Then they transferred him to the New York office, and he proposed a month before I started Kensington PR.”

My father had been thrilled when we started dating. Bentley had a good job, knew all the right things to say, and came from a rich, “acceptable” family. He was George Kensington’s dream son-in-law. Honestly, my father was probably happier now that the perfect son-in-law was paired with the perfect daughter instead of with me.

“My plans for starting the company had already been underway, so it wasn’t like I could push them back to plan my wedding. Even if I could, I wouldn’t have wanted to. But those first months after the opening were…stressful, and our relationship became strained. He accused me of prioritizing work over him; I accused him of wanting me to fail. We were both so busy we barely saw each other, and when we did see each other, we fought. But I loved him, and I thought the bumps would pass after I got the firm off the ground and we were married.”

There was no one except Xavier within earshot, but that didn’t stop red, itchy embarrassment from crawling over my skin. I’d been such an idiot. I should’ve known, if Bentley had been that unsupportive at the beginning of my career, that his resentment would only grow the more success I achieved.

“A few months after he proposed, I flew to London for work. Of course, we fought about it since it was over the holidays, but it was a crisis surrounding my biggest client at the time. I resolved it faster than expected and came home early. When I walked into our apartment, I found him having sex in the living room with my sister. On New Year’s Eve.”

The scene was imprinted on my brain no matter how hard I tried to scrub it. Her bent over the couch I’d picked out, him behind her, their moans and gasps as I stood frozen, trying to process what the fuck was happening. They’d been so caught up in each other, they didn’t notice me until after they’d finished.

A fresh wave of humiliation flooded me. Getting cheated on was one thing. Getting cheated on by your fiancé and sister was a new level of betrayal.

Even though Georgia and I weren’t close, I hadn’t expected her to be so callous. She’d never even apologized.

“Jesus.” Xavier let out a string of Spanish curses. “I’m so fucking sorry, Luna.”

“It’s okay. It was an important lesson,” I said flatly. Don’t trust people, and don’t let them in. I couldn’t get hurt if I didn’t care. “They barely showed remorse. I kicked Georgia out, but not before she blamed my overworking for why he strayed. After she left, Bentley and I got into a huge fight, and he…” My knuckles whitened around the edge of my chair. “He said I was too frigid. That I’d always been an ice queen and that I got worse after I started my PR company. He said I couldn’t blame him for hooking up with Georgia when she was so passionate and I couldn’t even show proper emotion. Needless to say, we broke up that night. He and Georgia started dating officially a week later.”

If you weren’t such an ice queen all the time, maybe I wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere.

My throat and nose burned. “The worst part was my father took Georgia’s side. There was no way his precious perfect daughter would’ve done that without good reason. He blamed me using the same reasons they did, and when I refused to let it go, he gave me an ultimatum. Get over it or get out. So I got out.”

Recounting the story out loud carried the sting of fresh wounds, but as my words dissolved in the sterile air, the initial pain gradually transformed into a therapeutic numbness.

By locking away those memories, I’d given them power. They’d festered over the years, sprouting horns and claws and morphing into a nightmare I constantly ran from, whether I knew it or not. By sharing them out loud, I’d stripped them of that power.

They were nothing but a small man behind a big curtain, trying to convince me they could hurt me.

They couldn’t.

It wasn’t my fault that Georgia was a terrible sister or that Bentley was an insecure, cheating bastard. Nor was it my fault my father was too blinded by his biases to see what was right in front of him. They were the ones who should be ashamed, not me.

“Sloane. Listen to me.” Xavier grasped my shoulders and turned me so I faced him. His eyes glittered like dark coals of anger. “You are not fucking frigid. You’re one of the most driven, passionate people I know, even if you may show it differently than others, and you built one of the best PR firms in the world in five years. You think someone without passion can do that? And even if you were quote unquote ‘cold’ to your asshole ex, he deserved it. If he doesn’t appreciate you for who you are, then he damn well doesn’t deserve your time or energy.”

His expression was fierce, and his touch seared like it was trying to impress his conviction onto my soul.

It happened so suddenly, I would’ve stumbled had I been standing.

A whoosh swept through my stomach, followed by the dizzying, disorienting, but not totally unpleasant sensation of tumbling over an edge. Pieces of me floated alongside his words, little champagne bubbles that shouldn’t exist after such a shitty day but did anyway.

Xavier Castillo. Only you.

“You should be a motivational coach.” I managed a wobbly smile. “You would kill on the speaker circuit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” For once, he didn’t match my smile. “Tell me you understand, Luna. None of what happened was your fault. Fuck Bentley, fuck Georgia, and fuck your family.” He paused. “Except Pen.”

Another laugh burbled, elbowing unshed tears out of the way. “I understand.”

I truly did.

I’d come to the same conclusion seconds before Xavier’s speech, but thinking it and hearing someone else affirm it were two different things.

An anchor unhooked from my shoulders, and for the first time in years, I breathed easier.

Running into my family had started as a disaster and ended up being therapeutic. Go figure. Nothing in my life had worked the way it should’ve since Xavier entered it, though I wasn’t complaining.

“Good.” He released my shoulders, but a trace of caution lingered on his face. “We should probably get out of here soon unless you want to see Pen again.”

“She won’t wake up for a while, and I don’t want to get Rhea into trouble.” I explained my father’s instructions. Xavier responded with a c word that made me smile. “But I agree. We should leave before the staff starts asking questions.”

A quick glance at my watch told me we’d been here for…fuck.

Two hours? How was that possible?

“We’ll pick up dinner. Then I’ll drop you off at your apartment,” Xavier said as we exited the building. It was already dark outside, and a brisk chill snuck beneath the layers of my coat and sweater. “You must be hungry.”

“I’m not that hungry.” Despite my recent catharsis, I blanched at the thought of returning to my empty apartment. Well, The Fish was there, but he wasn’t exactly stimulating company.

I usually didn’t mind being alone. I preferred it. But after the past few hours, I needed a physical release. Something to shake off the day.

“I have a better idea.” I stopped next to the passenger side and spoke over the top of his car. “You were telling me the other day about this great club in Greenwich Village. Is it open on Wednesdays?”

Xavier’s eyebrows winged up. “Yes, but—” “We should go.”

“Are you sure? It’s been a long day.”

“That’s why I want to go.” I opened the door, slid inside, and buckled my seat belt while Xavier took the driver’s seat. “You said I should be more spontaneous. This is me being spontaneous.”

“It’s a little different than the type of club you’re thinking of.” Xavier searched my face. He must’ve found whatever he was looking for because a smile slowly replaced his frown. “But if you want to go, we’ll go. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”