King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)
King of Sloth: Chapter 42

I couldn’t stop checking the time.

It was one in the afternoon; there were eleven hours until my trial period with Xavier expired, but the looming deadline killed my appetite as I pushed my salad around my plate.

If you don’t show up, I’ll know what your answer is, and I’ll never mention this again.

The end of our relationship aside, what would happen if I didn’t show up? Would we stop working together? Would I never see him again? Would the past two months disappear into the past like they’d never happened?

I should be happy about that. That was what I wanted, but if that were the case, why did I feel nauseous?

The few forkfuls I’d forced down earlier churned in my stomach. Cutting all ties with Xavier would be the smartest thing to do. We couldn’t return to our old working relationship when I knew how his lips tasted, and how he felt inside me, and how he held me like—

“Hellooo. Earth to Sloane.” Isabella waved her hand in front of my face, severing my spiraling thoughts. “Where are you?”

“Sorry.” I attempted another bite of food. It tasted like cardboard. “I was just thinking.”

“About tonight?” Alessandra’s eyes gleamed with knowing concern. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I usually grabbed takeout for lunch on workdays, but I’d asked my friends to meet me at a proper restaurant because I needed their advice. I’d filled them in on Xavier’s ultimatum, and their reactions had run the gamut.

Isabella wanted me to meet him, no questions asked. Vivian said I should go with my heart, which wasn’t helpful, because my heart had a habit of making terrible choices. Alessandra was surprisingly neutral, but out of everyone at the table, she understood how important it was to make a decision on my own time, not anyone else’s.

The problem was, I didn’t have much time; I had hours at most.

“No.” I flicked a piece of walnut to the side; I’d forgotten to tell the server not to include them in my salad.

I didn’t know what dishes you like best, so I ordered a bit of everything. None with walnuts, though.

Unshed emotion crowded my throat. I hadn’t cried since last night, and I hadn’t told my friends about the tears. They weren’t relevant; they were a physical symptom, that was all.

I didn’t let myself examine what they were a physical symptom of. “I shouldn’t go. I’m not going to go,” I said with half-hearted conviction. “Meeting him would be stupid, right? We’ll break up eventually, and it’s better to rip the Band-Aid off now than later down the road.”

Isabella frowned, Alessandra quietly cut her chicken, and Vivian took a sip of her water without meeting my gaze.

Ugh. I loved my friends, but obviously, they were biased. They were all disgustingly in love, and while they’d gotten their happily ever afters, they didn’t count. They wanted to be in love, and they didn’t self-sabotage just by virtue of who they were. I would never be the soft, loving type that did well in relationships, and I was perfectly happy being alone.

Perfectly. Happy.

I stabbed at a strawberry with so much force the plate wobbled. “Anyway, enough about my dating life,” I said. “Did I tell you about Perry’s visit to my office yesterday? He was fuming.”

I regaled the table with Perry’s satisfying breakdown, and they made all the right noises of encouragement, but I could tell they were still stuck on my Xavier dilemma.

If I were honest, so was I.

My voice petered out toward the end when I remembered what happened after Perry left. Xavier had shown up, and my heart had slammed against my ribs like it was desperate to break free.

I know you think happily ever afters are unrealistic, Luna, but they don’t have to be. You just have to believe in them enough for yourself.

My stomach roiled again, and I stood abruptly, startling my friends from their food.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I ducked my head and speed walked to the ladies’ room. The farther I walked, the easier it was to breathe and block out memories of Xavier—the warmth in his eyes, the rawness of his voice, the brief glimpse of his dimples after my Sleepless in Seattle comment. The dining room chatter helped, too. There was nothing like a little white noise to repress unwanted thoughts.

I’d chosen to meet my friends at Le Boudoir, which had cleaned up its reputation after a guest died at its soft opening last year. The coroners had ruled it a natural death, and the morbid event added a strange mystique to the restaurant, which bustled with surprising activity for this time of year.

In one corner, Buffy Darlington reigned over a table of distinguished old-money socialites. In another, Ayana sat with her date, a good-looking man with dark hair and an intense expression. They appeared to be having a heated discussion so I didn’t say hi; I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, anyway.

I pushed open the door to the restroom and used the facilities. My skin was cold and clammy, but by the time I washed my hands and reapplied my lipstick, I’d gotten my nausea under control. Sort of.

I checked my phone again. Ten and a half hours.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. That was plenty of time. Surely I’d—

“Sloane.”

My head snapped toward the door. I recognized that voice, and of all the people I didn’t want to see now or ever, she ranked in the top five.

My stepmother walked toward me, wearing a Chanel tweed suit and the expression of someone who’d just swallowed a lemon whole.

I wiped my face of any inner turmoil. “Caroline.”

I’d never subscribed to the idea that women needed to visit the restroom in packs, but I wished one of my friends were with me, if only so I didn’t get charged with aggravated assault for clawing Caroline’s eyes out.

She’d fired Rhea, kept Pen from seeing me, and was an all-around terrible human being. Given my current mood, she was lucky if I didn’t stab her with my heel.

Her own heels clacked against the tile floor as she came up beside me. She reached into her bag and fished out a lipstick.

“I didn’t expect to see you here on a Tuesday afternoon,” she said, reapplying the understated mauve color with precision. “Aren’t you supposed to be at that little job of yours?”

“My little job happens to be one of the top PR firms in the country.” I gave her a brittle smile. “Not everyone marries up for money. Some of us are smart enough to earn it.”

“How quaint.” Caroline recapped her lipstick and dropped it in her purse. “As much as I love hearing about your plebeian adventures…” She wrinkled her nose. “I have something else I’d like to discuss.”

“I don’t know where you can polish your horns. Perhaps you should google demon services and go from there.”

She pursed her mouth. “Honestly, Sloane, this is why you’re better off working than trying to replace a proper husband. No respectable man would tolerate such juvenile humor.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t like ‘respectable’ men, then. They have a habit of saying one thing and turning around and doing the opposite—sometimes with your sister.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed at the Bentley reference, but she didn’t take the bait. “This is about Penelope,” she said, and just like that, my snarky quips vanished.

I hadn’t gotten any updates about Pen since the one Xavier gave me. I didn’t want to give Caroline the satisfaction of begging for information, but my pulse beat a frantic rhythm while I waited for her next words.

“She hasn’t been acting like herself lately,” Caroline said after a pause. “She barely eats, and her transition to a new nanny has been…difficult. She’s normally so well-behaved.”

How would you know? You barely talk to your own daughter. I bit back the stinging retort so I didn’t alienate my stepmother when she was giving me firsthand insight into what’d happened after Perry’s bombshell post. The revelation that Pen wasn’t eating concerned me, but I couldn’t believe Caroline sounded shocked by the developments. She should know what the cause was.

“She misses Rhea,” I said. “Rhea has been with her since she was born. She’s practically a mother to her, and you sent her away in the middle of the night without a word. Of course she’s upset.” Caroline tensed. I didn’t think she cared about anything other than her clothes and social status, but I could’ve sworn I saw a flash of hurt at the mother comment.

“Yes, well, perhaps we were a bit hasty in our actions in that regard,” she said stiffly. “However, Rhea conspired with you to sneak visits to Penelope while George and I were gone. She’s untrustworthy, and her actions couldn’t go unpunished.”

“Untrustworthy?” I would’ve laughed had I not been so incensed. “If you’re worried about untrustworthiness, you should look to a few other people in your household. Yes, Rhea lied by omission, but she did that for Pen. You may be happy to keep your daughter at home and pretend she doesn’t exist because she’s not perfect enough for you, but she’s a child. She needs someone who cares about her, and you just took away the one person in your household who fits the bill.”

Caroline’s lips formed a thin slash of mauve. “Be that as it may, you understood the gravity of the situation when you walked away and humiliated this family years ago. Because of you, the Kensington name will forever be tainted by scandal. No one in our world forgets estrangements, Sloane, and you chose to give up Penelope along with the rest of your privileges. You couldn’t get past your pride then, and you dragged Rhea down with you now. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“The fact that you consider access to Pen a privilege like she’s a credit card or bank account is exactly why you’re not fit to parent her,” I said, my voice quiet with fury.

“Oh, get off your sanctimonious high horse,” Caroline sneered. “If I weren’t ‘fit to parent her,’ I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. Trust me, I have better uses of my time than chatting up my ex-stepdaughter in a restaurant bathroom.” She took a deep breath before saying more calmly, “As I mentioned, Penelope has been acting up. She’s also been asking for you. Incessantly. And contrary to what you think, I’m not a heartless monster. She’s my only daughter. I do care about her wants and needs.”

I didn’t buy the sudden loving mother act. Maybe Caroline cared a bit about Pen’s wants and needs, but she cared about herself much more.

“So much so that you’ve ignored her since she was diagnosed with CFS,” I said. I couldn’t help it; I’d been dying to read Caroline the riot act for ages, and now that I had the chance, it was impossible for me to let it go.

I must’ve hit a nerve, because her face instantly flushed red. “I haven’t ignored her,” she snapped. “I kept her at home to protect her. I hardly think she should be gallivanting around town with her condition, and you of all people should know how our world treats anyone they deem ‘different’ or ‘not good enough.’” Her mouth twisted. “Lord knows I had a difficult time after I married George. They wouldn’t let me onto any good charity boards for years.”

“My condolences. I can’t believe you survived such a terrible hardship.”

“Make all the wisecracks you want, but this isn’t about me or you,” Caroline said through gritted teeth. “The only reason I’m even talking to you is because we’ve tried everything else to help Penelope, and it didn’t work. We even had Georgia talk to her.”

“Asking Georgia to make someone feel better is like asking a scorpion for a hug.”

To my surprise, my stepmother snorted in agreement. “I’ve never liked your sister. She always thought she was better than me.” “She thinks she’s better than everyone, and you never liked me either.”

“No, but you’re the only one who can get through to Penelope.

This is more than your typical child’s tantrum. If she continues acting the way she has, it’ll have a serious impact on her health.” Caroline’s gaze flitted around the bathroom. “George doesn’t know I’m doing this yet, but I’m willing to make a deal. Penelope says she wants to see you, and I can make that happen if she gives up her hunger strike.”

My heart stumbled at the possibility of seeing Pen again without having to sneak around, but a part of me remained wary. “What’s the catch?”

Caroline wasn’t altruistic enough to do this solely for Pen’s benefit.

“So young yet so cynical.” My stepmother produced a humorless smile. “There’s no catch. Believe it or not, not everyone is out to get you all the time. Keep an eye out for a message once I’ve talked to George. Until then, tell no one about this conversation.”

The echo of her offer followed me back to the table, where my friends were finishing up their lunch.

“Is everything okay?” Vivian asked as I retook my seat. “You were gone for a while.”

“Yes.” I reached for my glass, desperate to alleviate the uncertainty clogging my throat. Xavier, Caroline, Pen…it was too much all at once, and my head throbbed with an impending migraine. “Everything’s fine.”