King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)
King of Sloth: Chapter 6

On my list of worst ways to die, overheating half naked in a sauna with Xavier Castillo ranked somewhere between medieval torture and getting eaten alive by piranhas, which was why it was not going to happen.

I tried the handle again. Still jammed. Dammit.

“If we had our phones, we could call the front desk, but we don’t,” I muttered. That was why I brought my phone everywhere. I didn’t care about screen addiction; at least it could save my life if and when the occasion arose.

“Sloane.”

“There’s nothing heavy enough to break the door unless I push you through it.” Tempting.

He sighed. “Sloane, there’s—”

“We could hope someone finds us when the next appointment shows up, but who knows when that’ll be? The spa is fully booked, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Sloane!” Xavier grabbed my shoulders and turned me around. “There’s an emergency button for these situations.”

I followed his gaze to the wall. Sure enough, the button was right there, mounted on a piece of wood. How the hell had I missed that?

Embarrassment scorched my cheeks.

I blamed the sauna. That much heat in a confined space couldn’t be healthy.

I managed to retain a shred of dignity as I pressed the button, mostly by ignoring Xavier’s shit-eating grin.

The staff came quickly after that, averting our potential demise. However, even though we weren’t in danger anymore, the possibility of dying next to Xavier—no matter how fleeting—did not bode well for the rest of the trip.

“I think it’s a great start to the week,” he said as we walked to our couples massage. The spa concierge had been so apologetic about the sauna lock-in that she’d added an extra half hour to our treatment. “We survived death. It can only go uphill from here.”

I pushed him into a nearby bush.

It was pure pettiness on my part, but it felt good. If it weren’t for him, I would be sitting happily in my office in New York, putting out fires instead of “relaxing.”

To my disgruntlement, Xavier didn’t fall; he merely stumbled into the hedge, and his laugh followed us into our massage room, where I made a point not to look at him as we disrobed. I’d already seen him half naked in the sauna, but it was hard to ignore the glimpses of tanned skin and sculpted muscle out of the corner of my eye.

The fact he was built like a Greek god when he did nothing except lounge around and party proved there was no justice in the universe.

We settled on our respective tables in silence. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him two feet away. His presence filled the room, unearthing memories from our short-lived but unnerving sauna adventure.

There’d been a moment, just one, when I looked at Xavier and my heart skipped a beat.

Who did you really go see?

There’d also been a moment, just one, when I almost answered truthfully. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in his face…or maybe the heat had melted my brain. That was far more likely.

My lids drifted closed as our massage therapists reentered the room and worked out our knots, but I couldn’t shut off my brain. How many emails had piled up in my inbox in the past hour?

I’d never gone this long without checking my phone. What if my office was on fire? That was the thing about working in a skyscraper. You were subject to the idiocy of other tenants, many of whom didn’t understand the basic tenets of fire safety.

Speaking of idiocy, what if Asher Donovan crashed another car? Did Jillian remember to send Ayana our terms of engagement? Was Isabella feeding The Fish properly?

Isabella wasn’t an idiot, but I had specific instructions for taking care of my pet goldfish, and she tended to get lost in her own world when she was in the middle of writing a book.

Anxiety spurred my heart rate into an agitated gallop. “You’re very stressed,” my therapist said softly. Her hands worked magic on my back and shoulders, but the poor woman would need a full week to loosen all my knots.

“I’m from New York,” I said as an explanation. Everyone was stressed. The only people who weren’t were the lazy—

“That’s not an excuse.” Xavier’s interjection destroyed my cocoon of attempted bliss. “I’m from New York, and I don’t walk around with headaches every day.”

I lifted my head to glare at him, but my therapist’s warning tsk forced me back down. “First of all, you’re not from New York. You’re from Bogotá. Second of all, you know nothing about my health. Third of all—”

“Turn over, please,” my therapist said.

I obeyed with more force than necessary. “Third of all, you’re not stressed because you don’t do anything. You just sit there, spend your family’s money, and look pretty.”

It was harsh, but a trust fund kid lecturing me was my last straw. Yes, I’d also grown up with money and all the privileges that came with it, but I gave that up when I left my family. Everything I had now, I’d earned.

Xavier never had to work for a single thing in his life. He had no right criticizing my choices, stress levels, or anything about me.

“So,” he said, “you think I’m pretty.”

“You—”

“Breathe.” My massage therapist pressed down on my shoulders. “That’s it. Release the tension from your shoulders…” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Her gentle tone slowly smoothed the edges of my irritation. I inhaled a deep breath and swallowed an acerbic reply.

I prided myself on maintaining my composure at all times, but Xavier was the only person who could make me lose my cool.

“Seriously, you have enough money to step back and let your staff take the reins,” he said. “Why kill yourself at your job?”

Don’t take the bait.

“I like my job.” For the most part. But between Xavier and Asher, who had a penchant for fast cars and reckless driving, I was pushing my friends’ therapy skills to the limit.

I used to have a professional (non-massage) therapist, but she retired and I’ve hated every new one I tried after her. Maybe I should resume my search. God knew I needed one.

“What do you like about it?” Xavier must’ve missed the memo that massages were meant to be silent.

“Everything.”

“Bullshit. You don’t like me.”

His response was so frank and unexpected, I almost smiled.

Almost.

“Fine. I like fixing things. Solving problems no one else can solve.” Crisis management was only part of my job, but it gave me the biggest thrill. Writing press releases and managing media relations was fine, but I could do those things in my sleep.

“So you like to be needed.”

I turned my head before my therapist could stop me. Xavier met my gaze with a knowing one of his own, and…there it was again. A little skip in my chest, followed by the unnerving sense that he could see right past the shields I’d painstakingly built over the years.

Then I blinked, and the moment was gone.

I faced forward again and waited for my heartbeat to normalize before I spoke. “Don’t you get bored of doing nothing?”

I didn’t touch on the keenness of his observation or the truth behind it.

I expected Xavier to brush off my question with his usual flippancy, but he answered with surprising honesty.

“Sometimes,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. “But I’m good at doing nothing, so I stick to it. It’s better than fucking things up.”

I closed my eyes, listening to the faint crash of waves outside the window and the deep, steady breaths of the man next to me.

We didn’t talk again after that.

Three hours, one facial, one lunch, and one extremely awkward aromatherapy soak for two later, I emerged from the spa marginally less stressed than when I walked in.

I hated to admit it, but the day had helped. I even stopped worrying about my neglected inbox halfway through ignoring Xavier while we floated in a lavender-scented tub together.

Neither of us brought up anything substantial after our massage talk, but I kept thinking about what he’d said.

I’m good at doing nothing, so I stick to it. It’s better than fucking things up.

Xavier was unmotivated, but he wasn’t dumb. If he tried, he could probably run circles around the people sitting in the Castillo Group’s boardroom. Plus, he had an ample cushion of money and connections.

Why would he be so afraid of screwing up that he didn’t try? I cast a sideways glance at him. He didn’t make any quips on our walk back to the villa, but my concern over his silence gave way to horror when we reached our home for the week. “What…?” My mouth parted as I stared at the sprawling building.

When we left that morning, it’d been a peaceful oasis of pale stone and floor-to-ceiling windows. Now, it resembled a frat house. Spanish music blasted from deep within the interior, and the scent of booze overpowered the wildflowers surrounding the entrance.

A pretty brunette in a bikini raced through the half-open door and shrieked as a Chris Hemsworth lookalike doused her in champagne. Squeals and laughter echoed from deeper in the villa, followed by the splash of someone jumping into the pool.

“Xavi! There you are!” the Hemsworth lookalike called out. “Hope you don’t mind that we started the party without you.”

I wheeled around and glared at Xavier.

“I forgot to mention my friends are joining us.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “One of them just broke up with his girlfriend. We’re trying to make him feel better.”

Was he freaking kidding me?

“He can feel better in his own villa. This is a shared space.” I pointed at the building and tried to breathe through the bubbling anger in my chest. “I didn’t consent to having a bunch of strangers overrun my hotel room for the week. Shut. It. Down.”

“I would, but my friends are, uh, difficult to dislodge once they’ve settled into a party.” Xavier shrugged. “It’d be a waste of energy. Trust me.”

The knots my massage therapist spent ninety minutes kneading out returned with a vengeance.

“Since they’re your friends, that sounds like a you problem.” A headache hammered at the sides of my skull. “I swear to God, Xavier, if they’re not out of here in the next fifteen minutes, I’m calling the police and having them arrested for trespassing.”

“Don’t think that’ll fly. One of them is the president’s niece.” Xavier paused. “President of Spain,” he clarified.

“Then the president can come here and bail her out.” I jabbed a finger at his chest, so pissed I could barely see straight. “This wasn’t what I agreed to when we made our deal. Figure out a way to fix this, or I’m leaving on the next flight out.”

His insouciance fell away, replaced by what looked like true regret. “Shit, I’m sorry, Luna. I honestly forgot that…” He glanced at the villa. “Look, I’ll make you a new deal.”

“No.”

Xavier pressed on, undeterred. “Let them stay today. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s impossible to move them after they get the party going. I already see two people passed out in the hall.” A quick peek confirmed his statement. “In return, I promise not to throw another party for the next month unless you’ve approved it.”

“That’s not a good deal,” I said flatly. He must take me for a naïve newborn.

“Two months.”

“No.”

“Three months. Come on,” he coaxed. “Think of how much easier your job would be if you didn’t have to worry about me setting a bar on fire or getting shut down by the cops.”

I pursed my lips. Xavier’s parties tended to spiral out of control. All the bad press he’d gotten in the past was linked to one of his infamous soirées; if I could prevent him from hosting them in the first place, that’d be a load off my plate.

“No unapproved parties for six months,” I said, making up my mind. Giving up one afternoon was worth months of potential peace and quiet down the road—hopefully. “We’re putting it in writing, and your friends have to be out by midnight tonight.”

“Six months? Are you fucking kid—” Xavier’s mouth snapped shut when I narrowed my eyes. “Fine,” he muttered. “You have a deal.”

“Good.” I spun back around toward the villa and prayed I hadn’t just made a huge mistake. “I can’t believe you invited me on a heartbreak trip with your friends.”

“Hey, a trip can serve multiple purposes. The more the merrier!” he called after me as I stormed inside.

Prickles crawled over my skin at the cushions littering the floor and the half-empty alcohol bottles crowding every available surface. The knickknacks I’d reorganized to geometric perfection that morning had been knocked askew, and scantily clad men and women were…

Oh God. I did not need to see that.

I averted my eyes from the couple on the couch and zeroed in on a familiar face. “Luca?”

Luca Russo blinked at me from the corner, his surprise mirroring my own. “Sloane? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Luca was my best friend Vivian’s brother-in-law. The second son of the massive Russo luxury goods fortune, he’d been a mainstay in Xavier’s circle until he cleaned up his act a few years ago, stopped partying, and started working for his family’s company. Apparently, he’d fallen off the wagon again.

“I’m here to mend my broken heart.” He slumped dramatically in his armchair. “Leaf and I broke up. She moved to a goat farm in Tennessee.”

“Isn’t she vegan?”

“She’s there to save the goats.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know Luca or Leaf well enough to muster more than an inkling of sympathy. Besides, I’d never liked his ex-girlfriend’s holier-than-thou, New Age hippie vibes. “How tragic.”

Now the poor goats had to put up with her savior complex. “S’okay. That’s why I’m here. To feel better.” He took a swig of beer. “Oh, hey, Xavi.”

Xavier came up beside me. “I forgot you know each other.” There was a strange note in his voice, but when I glanced at him, he turned away.

“Here.” He handed me an unopened bottle from a nearby table. “I have a feeling you’re going to need this.”

I couldn’t do it anymore.

After I rejected Xavier’s beer, made him a hastily drawn-up contract for our latest deal, locked myself in my room, read about the sixth principle of crisis communications, and confirmed with the resort and every other resort within a five-mile radius that there were no available rooms for the night, I gave up trying to pretend Xavier and Friends didn’t exist.

I wanted to stay in my room, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Xavier said during our massage.

So you like to be needed.

Who didn’t like to be needed? Being needed meant we were good at and good for something. People didn’t leave those they needed. It wasn’t the same as being loved, but it was better than nothing.

There was a lot to unpack there, but since I had no desire to do that, I finally wandered outside and joined the party, if only so I didn’t have to be alone with my thoughts.

The festivities had migrated from our living room to the private beach after sunset, and the bonfire made it easy for me to locate the heart of the party. Xavier’s eyebrows shot up when he saw me, but he didn’t stop me from downing my first, second, or third glass of sangria.

If I were to survive the night around him and his friends, I needed to be (very) drunk.

However, despite my presence, I held off on actually participating in the revelry until Luca spotted me and attempted to drag me from my seat by the bonfire.

“You have to dance,” he insisted. “It’s one of the island’s rules.”

I didn’t budge. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

“I didn’t expect a cliché from you, of all people.” His cheeks were flushed from alcohol, and a sparkle brightened his eyes.

Realization dawned. He was flirting with me.

With his dark hair and olive skin, Luca was certainly good-looking enough, but I searched for any flicker of attraction and found none. Even if I were attracted to him, I had no interest in being a rebound hookup.

“I like to surprise people every once in a while.” I glanced across the bonfire and caught Xavier’s eye.

He was sandwiched between the brunette from earlier and her twin. He appeared uninterested in what they were saying, but when he saw me looking, his gaze flicked to Luca before he turned to face one of the twins.

He’d left me alone since we arrived at the beach, which I was obviously grateful for. It wasn’t like I needed his company.

“Still, you can’t sit on the sidelines for this song.” Luca’s voice brought my attention back to him. “It’s practically illegal.”

The twins burst into laughter at something Xavier said. His dimples flashed, and one of them placed her hand on his arm.

I suppressed an eye roll. I doubted anything he said was that funny.

I tried to tune out the party around me and focus on the sound of the waves, but Luca continued pestering me until my headache reached new heights and I’d do anything, even freaking dance, to get him to stop.

I should’ve stayed in my room.

“Stop talking.” I held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “If I dance for one song, will you go away?”

Maybe that was a bit rude, but I was grumpy, annoyed, and not nearly drunk enough. I wasn’t in the mood to coddle anyone’s feelings.

Luca appeared unfazed by my sharp response. “Sure.” “Fine.” I stood, my irritation escalating when the twins laughed again at something else Xavier said. You’d think he was a one-man Saturday Night Live show by the way they were carrying on. “But I need another drink first.”

Luca and I swung by the beach bar for the resort’s signature cocktail, which was thankfully stronger than the sangria. However, my renewed buzz wasn’t enough to erase my self-consciousness when we hit the makeshift dance floor.

I’d never been a great dancer. I took the requisite ballet lessons as a kid and stopped when Madame Olga dismissed me as one of her “most difficult” pupils. I tried ballroom dancing when I was older and didn’t fare much better.

When I went out with my friends, I could lose myself in our group and not worry about how stupid I looked, but I didn’t have Vivian, Isabella, or Alessandra to shield me here. It was just me, the music, and a dozen pair of eyes that were inexplicably trained on me.

“Whoa.” Luca half laughed, half winced when I accidentally stepped on his foot. He steadied me with a hand on my hip.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten that drink earlier.”

My cheeks heated. The song hadn’t finished, and I already regretted my decision.

“It’s okay.” Despite his drunkenness, Luca picked up on my embarrassment. “Here.” He placed his other hand on my hip. “Let’s try—”

“Don’t bother.”

My spine stiffened at the familiar voice behind me.

“You’re so drunk, you’ll be lucky if you don’t take both of you down.” An edge ran beneath Xavier’s otherwise affable tone. “Why don’t you sober up and come back?”

Luca glanced at his friend, then at me. He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Good idea.”

I crossed my arms and didn’t move while Xavier came around to face me. “Here I thought you were perfect at everything.” The edge was gone, replaced by a teasing lilt. “I need to give you dance lessons. Can’t have you making me look bad in front of my friends.” He’d changed out of his earlier outfit into a white linen shirt and casual pants. Here, in the glow of the firelight, with his hair tousled by the wind and his muscles loose from drink and relaxation, he was disturbingly, devastatingly attractive.

Freed from the weight of sobriety, I could even admit that my dislike of him partly stemmed from envy. What was it like to live life so carefree every day? To not worry about being perceived by others or being good enough, successful enough, impactful enough to justify my existence?

My throat dried before I shook off the unwanted thoughts. “Look bad?” I covered up the momentary lapse in my defenses with a defiant chin tilt. “I’m the one who apparently can’t dance, not you.”

“We can change that. I’ve been told I’m an excellent instructor.”

“Doubtful.”

“You always underestimate me.”

“And you always provoke me.”

He gave a casual shrug. “I like it when you get mad. Proves you’re not an ice queen after all.”

My buzz disappeared fast enough for me to feel the punch of his words.

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

She’s hot, but I bet she’s frigid in bed…

For God’s sake, Sloane, smile. Why can’t you look happy for once?

The pressure returned. A lump crawled into my throat, but as always, my eyes remained dry.

No wonder people called me an ice queen. I couldn’t even show emotion properly.

Xavier must’ve noticed the sudden shift in my mood because his smile vanished. “Hey, I wasn’t—”

“I have to go.” I pushed past him, my chest tight. His hand touched my shoulder. “Sloane—”

“Don’t touch me, and do not follow me.” I injected my trademark coldness into my words. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

I shrugged him off and didn’t stop walking until I’d locked myself in my bathroom and turned the shower on at full blast.

I didn’t care that I’d already showered a few hours ago. I needed something to drown out the noise in my head.

I pressed my forehead against the tile and closed my eyes.

I stayed there until the lump in my throat dissolved, and as droplets of water cascaded down my face, I pretended they were tears.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.