Page 75 of King of Greed

I’d skipped my holiday trip to Brazil for the first time in my life and worked around the clock to put everything together. It’d been worth it.

“How was your date on Saturday?” Isabella asked. “Better than the Dalton fiasco, I hope.”

“It’s hard for any date to goworse.” I hadn’t heard a peep from Dalton since the Christmas gala. There were rumors he’d been kicked out of Valhalla but no confirmation yet. “To answer your question, it was fine, but there won’t be a second date.”

I hadn’t given up on my foray into the dating world after my, er, tryst with Dominic in the library. The sex had been incredible, but I’d meant it when I said I wanted to see other people. Despite the holidays, I’d squeezed in a comedy show with a musician after Christmas and grabbed drinks with a nice high school teacher over the weekend.

I didn’t care that the dates went nowhere. It was about meeting new people and experiencing what it was like to be with someone else. Luckily, neither the musician nor teacher had tried to lure me back to their apartments for a secret sex tape, so that was a plus.

“I can’t believe you guys had sex in the library at the sametime,” Vivian said. “Or that there’s asecret roomand you didn’t tell me.”

Isabella and I flushed We’d told our friends what happened at the gala, which was a mistake in hindsight because Vivian and Sloane hadn’t stopped teasing us about it. At least they hadn’t brought it up around Marcelo.

Since I couldn’t go to Brazil for Christmas, he’d flown up instead. We’d spent a long weekend attending Broadway shows and gorging on overpriced pastries. My mother FaceTimed us from St. Barts on Christmas Day, which was more thoughtful than we’d expected.

“It wasn’t my place to tell,” Isabella said defensively. “It’s a Young family secret, and you guyscan’ttell anyone else.”

Sloane let out a delicate snort. “Why would I tell anyone about your and Kai’s sex lair? I’d have to disinfect it before I ever stepped foot inside.”

Isabella tossed a crumpled piece of brown paper at her, and our prep session quickly devolved into a laughing, breathless paper fight.

“Stop!” I squealed when Vivian pelted me with paper balls. “When did you get so violent? You’re supposed to be the nice one!”

“I’m constantly tired, my breasts are sore, and I have to convince Dante not to insulate me with bubble wrap every day,” she said. “I need to release some tension.”

Fair enough.

I was just glad my friends weren’t grilling me about Dominic. They’d been shocked but not necessarily surprised by my sex confession—a fact I chose not to examine too closely—and they’d complied with my request not to talk about it. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway; I was as confused about the status of my relationship as they were.

Dominic and I had left each other a few voice notes since the gala. They were generic greetings likeMerry ChristmasandHappy New Year,but he’d also sent a handwritten note and a custom jewelry-making kit for the holidays. I was surprised and touched that he’d remembered the casual hobby I’d picked up in Buzios, but there was only so much we could say via text and gifts. We were overdue for a real conversation.

My phone buzzed with a new message while my friends wound down their play fight.

Speak of the devil.

My heart leapt in my throat. Dominic rarely texted, which was why it took a minute for me to wrap my head around his words.

Dominic:Meet me at the Saxon Gallery tonight. 8pm. I have something for you.

I was too curious not to show.

After my friends left and I closed up shop, I took the subway to the Saxon Gallery on the west side, where Dominic waited in the reception area.

The first thing I noticed were his bruises. Yellowish-purple splotches mottled his cheek and jaw, and a scabbed-over cut sliced over his right eye. He looked like he’d gotten into a fistfight with a wild animal.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “What happened?”

“My brother showed up again.” His tone dried. “You could say we worked out our issues.”

God. I thoughtourrelationship was complicated, but his entanglement with his brother might be worse.

I reached for him out of instinct before hesitating. We weren’t married anymore. I had no business fussing over him the way a wife would, but the sight of him hurt had my heart tangled in knots.

It shouldn’t. He was fine, and the wounds would heal. And yet…

I brushed my fingers over the darkest bruise. His skin was soft beneath his stubble, and the knots tightened into a messy tangle.

I missed touching him outside of sex. I missed being able to wrap my arms around him for no reason or give him an absentminded kiss on the cheek when he was working. I missed all the little things that once made us us, but I was also too scared to fall back into my comfort zone.

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