King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)
King of Sloth: Chapter 14

After his brief spell of lucidity on Thursday, Alberto’s condition took a turn for the worse. He slipped into a coma the day after, and this time, the doctor appeared less optimistic about his chances of surviving the next forty-eight hours.

Both the family and I started preparing for the worst. While I monitored the media excessively for leaks, a priest arrived to be on hand for last rites, and Xavier’s family ambushed the lawyer every time he stepped foot inside the house. Sometimes, at night, I swore I heard the ghostly wail of someone crying.

Since I wasn’t a superstitious person, I attributed it to the wind. I also didn’t mind the busywork. It kept my mind off my father’s email, which I’d deleted without reply.

Xavier himself didn’t return to his father’s side. I didn’t know what they’d talked about when Alberto was awake, but he’d barely left his room since then. Even an offer to watch a rom-com and drink every time the quirky female lead did something klutzy didn’t rouse him from his seclusion.

By Saturday, I’d had enough. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

I strode down the hall and stopped in front of Xavier’s room. I’d convinced the head housekeeper to lend me her master key, but a pinch of apprehension needled me when I knocked and didn’t get a reply.

I hadn’t expected one, but that didn’t stop my mind from conjuring the worst images of what lay beyond the door.

Piles of empty bottles and filth. Drugs. Xavier overdosed and dead.

I’d never known him to dabble in drugs, but there was a first time for everything.

The apprehension swelled as I inserted the key into the knob.

One twist and the door opened, revealing…

What the hell?

My mouth parted at the scene before me. It wasn’t the crisp, perfectly made bed or the curtains thrown wide over the windows that shocked me. It wasn’t even the lack of visible food and alcohol.

It was the sight of Xavier…drawing?

He sat by the window, his focus unwavering despite my entrance. The easel in front of him held a large sheet of paper covered with what looked like a sketch of a living room. Beside him, a small mountain of crumpled paper balls littered the ground. He looked remarkably put together for someone I’d been convinced was in the throes of self-destruction minutes ago. His hair gleamed thick and glossy in the sunlight; a stray lock fell over his eye, brushing his cheekbone and softening the bold lines of his face. He wore a plain gray T-shirt and jeans that molded to his body like they were made for him, and his biceps flexed with every swoop and curve of his pencil.

A tingle of sudden awareness cascaded down my spine.

I had no idea why I was noticing these things about Xavier, but from a purely physical point of view, he was—

Stop. Get a grip. I caught myself before my thoughts wandered further down inappropriate paths. Clearly, I’d been cooped up in the mansion for too long if I was drawn in by his arms, of all things.

I was here to check on him, not ogle him.

“You have a habit of breaking into my bedroom, Luna,” he said without taking his eyes off the canvas. “Let’s hear it.”

I forced my mind off the light hum of electricity in my veins and walked toward him. My heels echoed against the polished wooden floors, the sound a welcome reprieve from…other distractions.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I came up beside him as he sketched a set of stools around a curved counter. It wasn’t Picasso, but it was better than anything I could’ve done. Plus, based on the notes he’d scribbled in the top left corner, he wasn’t aiming for artistic expression so much as brainstorming.

Considerations: bar depth/height, backbar space

Flex space for summer/winter

Mark high-traffic areas

My heart stuttered beneath twin blows of realization and surprise.

It wasn’t a living room sketch. It was a blueprint for a bar.

“I mean the scolding.” Xavier shaded in one of the stools, his voice flat and absent of its usual irreverence. “Tell me how I’m supposed to be spending time with my father and making amends instead of shirking my duties. Or how I should be preparing to take over the household after he passes and how I’m heartless for not caring whether he lives or dies.” He moved on to the backbar space of the sketch. “You wouldn’t be the first or last to say those things.”

I should’ve. In any other situation, I would’ve, but something held me back.

It wasn’t my job to police how other people processed their grief—or lack of it—and Xavier’s moodiness bothered me more than I cared to admit.

I hadn’t realized how accustomed I was to his annoying but familiar sunshine optimism until its warmth was gone.

“You never told me you were a designer,” I said, deliberately bypassing the topics he’d mentioned.

His hand paused for the briefest moment before he resumed drawing. “I’m not. This is just something I do to pass the time.”

I picked up a discarded paper ball from the ground and unfolded it. It was a variation of the current sketch. So was the next one I picked up and the one after that. “Interesting. Because to me, it looks like you’re trying to perfect a design.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened. “Is there a reason you broke into my room again, or are you really that bored?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.” The answer slipped out without thought, but it was true.

Despite his faults, Xavier was human. An infuriating one, yes, but he wasn’t malicious or mean-spirited, and there was more to him than the carefree image he portrayed to the world.

Besides, I of all people understood the complexities of a fraught paternal relationship. I could only imagine his struggle with reconciling his personal feelings toward his father and the prospect of losing the only parent he had left.

Xavier finally glanced at me. “Are my ears deceiving me? Is Sloane Kensington checking in on me of her own free will?” A hint of teasing slipped into his tone and restored a sense of normalcy.

Relief pushed the weight off my shoulders. I could deal with an uncooperative Xavier. I didn’t know how to deal with a brooding one.

“Don’t push it.” My voice cooled, but it lacked bite. “I merely want to ensure you don’t do anything stupid. It’s my job.”

Xavier’s eyes lingered on mine for a moment, making my stomach twist in the strangest way, before he returned to the canvas. “I thought your job was dealing with the vultures.”

The vultures, aka the media.

News of Alberto’s failing health had leaked after someone spotted the priest entering the compound, and there were currently a dozen reporters camped out in front of the gates as we spoke.

So far, I’d held them at bay, but if Alberto died, it would be a feeding frenzy, especially since he had no clear heir. Eduardo was an interim CEO, and Xavier had washed his hands of company obligations. That left the fate of the country’s largest private corporation up in the air. It would dominate headlines for weeks, if not months.

Luckily, I’d been planning for that day since Alberto received his cancer diagnosis, so I wasn’t too worried.

“They’re handled,” I said. “Which brings me back to this.” I inclined my head toward the easel. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Xavier added details to a banquette. “I’ve come to terms with the fact we won’t mend our relationship before he passes. Not everyone gets closure. Sometimes, the wounds run too deep, and the end of the road looks just as shitty as the miles that came before it.”

He placed his pencil on the easel and faced me again. Resignation and anger sculpted his mouth into a humorless smile. “Does that answer your question?” he asked.

“It does.” I was still holding the sketches I’d picked up earlier. I crumpled them and dropped them back on the ground. “But I have a more important question for you.”

His brows formed questioning arches.

“Why a bar?” I purposely changed the topic. Xavier was okay. Otherwise, he would’ve ignored me or deflected instead of giving a straightforward answer.

We’d discussed our families at length the past few days. We didn’t need to rehash it now that I knew he wasn’t going to spiral into an Alberto-induced depression.

We had shitty fathers whom we’d never forgive. End of story. “The sketch,” I clarified, nodding at the easel. How had I not known about his hobby when we’d worked together for so long? Granted, most of our communication had been over text and email until recently, but still. There was a whole other side to him that I found infuriatingly fascinating. “I know it’s your natural habitat, but most people start with a house. Maybe a nice landscape.” “Landscapes are boring, and I don’t care much for home design.” Xavier shrugged. “I go to enough bars that I can easily spot the flaws in each one. I thought it’d be fun to try and design the perfect one.”

I wrinkled my nose. “And you say I’m boring.”

His smile peeked out like a tiny ray of sunshine through gray storm clouds. “Hey, if it’s good enough for Prince Rhys, it’s good enough for me. He likes sketching in his free time too.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” I couldn’t imagine the gorgeous but broody crown prince of Eldorra enjoying something as soft as drawing. He looked like he wrestled bears for fun.

“I swear. I read about it in an interview last year. Besides…” Xavier’s dimples deepened. “I said your hobbies are boring, not you. I don’t replace a single thing about you boring.”

My heartbeat stumbled.

God, I wished he were an asshole. It would make things so much easier.

“Yes, well…” I cleared my throat and nudged a paper ball out of the way with the toe of my pump. “That doesn’t change the fact you need to leave your room sometime. I thought you’d—” I cut myself off before the word died. “I thought you’d passed out in here,” I finished, inwardly wincing at the lame substitution.

“I like my room.” Xavier’s smile took on a devilish slant. “You’re welcome to join me. There’s plenty of space.”

Ah, there was the shameless flirt. I knew he was still lurking under there somewhere.

I marshaled my expression into some semblance of professional disapproval, but I didn’t get a chance to respond before a knock sounded on the door.

Its owner didn’t wait for a response; the door opened, revealing Eduardo’s dark suit and somber face.

My sarcastic reply withered, and Xavier’s smile dissolved into grim understanding. He turned to the easel and ripped his near-complete sketch off the canvas. It soon joined the rest of the drawings on the floor.

Acid ate at my stomach. We’d been getting somewhere, and now…

“Xavier. Sloane.” Eduardo’s voice was heavy. “It’s time.”

We didn’t need elaboration, and neither of us spoke as we followed him into the hall. I could practically hear the camera flashes outside; the vultures were circling, and it was only a matter of time before they landed.

We made it halfway before a light touch on my shoulder forced me to halt.

“Before we go in there…” Xavier swallowed, his eyes clouded with turmoil. “Thank you for checking on me.”

The words landed like arrows, each in its vulnerable target.

It hadn’t occurred to me before, but in a house filled with his family, I was the first person to check and see if he was okay.

“You’re welcome,” I said quietly.

There was nothing else I could say in that moment.

The only thing I could do was step aside, let him say his goodbyes, and prepare him for the storm to come.