King of Wrath: from the bestselling author of the Twisted series (Kings of Sin)

37. Vivian

The Legacy Ball’s proximity to the chaos upending my life turned out to be a blessing in disguise. In the two days between my confrontation with my father and the gala, I threw myself into work with such fervor even Sloane, the consummate workaholic, expressed alarm.

Five a.m. wake-up calls. Dinner at the office. Lunch spent reviewing every detail and ensuring I had contingency plan upon contingency plan for everything from a citywide blackout to a brawl between guests.

By the time the actual ball rolled around, I was delirious from lack of sleep.

I didn’t mind. Busy was good. Busy meant less time agonizing over the shambles of my personal life.

However, despite all my planning, there was one thing I hadn’t prepared for: the effect walking into Valhalla Club would have on me.

Tightness crawled into my chest as I smiled and made small talk with the guests. Tonight, I was the hostess, which meant no running around checking on the food or music. That was my team’s job.

My job was to mingle, look good, pose for photographs…and not spend every second subconsciously searching for Dante.

I’d only visited Valhalla twice, both times with him. I hadn’t seen him yet. He might not show at all. But his presence—dark, magnetic, and omnipresent— permeated the room.

His laughter in the corners. His scent in the air. His touch on my skin. Hot kisses and stolen moments and memories so vivid they were painted all over the walls.

Dante was Valhalla, at least to me. And being here tonight, without him, was like a ship leaving port without an anchor.

“Vivian.” Buffy’s voice pulled me from the edge of a breakdown I couldn’t afford. I’d cried more this past week than I’d cried my entire life, and frankly, I was sick of it. “What a stunning dress.”

She came up beside me, elegant as always in a green brocade gown that paid tasteful homage to the ball’s secret garden theme. Magnificent diamonds draped across her neck and dripped from her wrists.

I blinked back a suspicious prickle and pasted on a smile. “Thank you. Your outfit is lovely, as well.”

Buffy swept a discerning gaze over my dress.

The Yves Dubois piece had turned many heads tonight, and for good reason. It cascaded to the ground in an exquisite sweep of red silk and gold-dipped feathers, so tightly packed they looked like a pile of fallen, gilded leaves. Shimmering gold thread formed an intricate phoenix pattern across the silk, so subtle it was almost invisible unless the embroidery hit the light at a certain angle.

It was clothing, art, and armor all rolled into one. A statement piece bold enough to declare power, but so dazzling few people looked past it to the sadness underneath.

“Yves Dubois couture,” Buffy said. “Dante is a generous fiancé.”

Her gaze coasted to my empty ring finger.

Tingles of unease crystallized beneath my skin. Dante and I hadn’t announced our breakup yet, but my lack of an engagement ring had drawn every person’s notice tonight.

Whispers were already circulating, not only about our relationship status, but about Lau Jewels’s stock market freefall. The negative press coverage had exploded in the past forty-eight hours. Although everyone had been perfectly nice to me so far—I was still the hostess, regardless of my family troubles—their murmurs hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I bought the gown myself,” I said in response to Buffy’s observation. I smiled at her flicker of surprise. “I’m a Lau.” Even if my father disowned me. “I can afford my own clothes.”

I wasn’t a billionaire, but between my trust fund, investments, and event planning income, I held my own money-wise.

Buffy recovered quickly. “Of course,” she said. “How…modern of you. Speaking of Dante, will he be joining us tonight? It’s your big night. I’m surprised he isn’t here already.”

My smile tightened. She was too refined to ask outright about the ring, but she was clearly fishing.

“He had an emergency at work.” I hoped she couldn’t hear the thumps of my heart over the music piping through the speakers. “He’ll make it if he wraps up the call in time.”

“I certainly hope so. It wouldn’t be a proper Legacy Ball without a Russo in attendance, would it?”

I forced a laugh alongside hers.

Thankfully, Buffy soon excused herself, and I was free to breathe again.

I circulated the room, more aware than ever of the guests’ subtle digs and glances at my hand. I ignored them the best I could. I’d worry about the gossip mill tomorrow.

Tonight was my big night, and I refused to let anyone ruin it.

Dante’s conspicuous absence aside, the ballroom was packed with a who’s who of Manhattan high society. Dominic and Adriana Davenport held court with a group of Wall Street titans; a crop of the season’s “It Girls” flirted with floppy-haired trust fund scions near the bar.

The room itself was a masterpiece. Three dozen trees imported from Europe ringed the space, twined with ethereal strings of light that glittered like jewels against a leafy backdrop. Seventy thousand dollars’ worth of hanging flowers and shrubbery adorned the tables, where vintage key tags hand-calligraphed with each guest’s name delineated their seating assignment.

Everything was perfect—the four-tier cake with textural buttercream, floral garnishes, and edible twenty-four-karat gold leaf keyhole; the pink and white strawberry and rose towers; the mossy wooden arches and oversized Edison bulbs adorning the bar.

And yet, the stares and whispers continued.

I eased a deep breath into my lungs.

It’s fine. No one is going to make a scene in the middle of the Legacy Ball.

I whisked a glass of champagne off a tray in an attempt to drown the self-consciousness pricking my skin.

“The hostess drinking by herself on her big night? That won’t do.”

I smiled at the familiar voice before turning. “I needed a break from…” I gestured around the room. “You know.”

“Oh, I do,” Kai said dryly, handsome as always in a bespoke tuxedo and his signature glasses. “May I have this dance?”

He held out his hand. I took it and let him guide me to the dance floor.

Dozens of pairs of eyes honed in on us like laser-guided missiles seeking their targets.

“Is it just me,” he said. “Or do you also feel like you’re in a giant fishbowl?”

“A nice, expensive one,” I agreed.

Amusement touched his lips before it melted into concern. “How are you doing, Vivian?”

I assumed he was talking about my breakup with Dante. They were friends, but how much did he know about what happened?

I chose a safe, neutral answer. “I’ve been better.”

“I haven’t seen Dante in the ring this week. It’s unlike him. He usually goes straight for violence when he’s upset.”

The joke failed to pull a smile from me. I was too hung up on the mention of Dante. “Maybe he’s not upset.”

We hadn’t spoken to each other since I moved out. I should be upset with him. Most of the blame lay with my father, but Dante wasn’t completely innocent either.

Still, it was hard to summon anything except sadness when I thought about him. There’d been a time when I really thought…

“Maybe.” Kai glanced over my shoulder. His gaze turned speculative. “You know, I didn’t want to say anything while you were engaged, but you’re one of the most beautiful women I know.”

I blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone and topic. “Thank you.”

“This might be too soon, but since you’re no longer with Dante…” Kai’s hand slid down my back and rested above the curve of my ass. Low enough to be suggestive but high enough to skirt the line of inappropriate. I stiffened. “Perhaps we can go out sometime.”

Shock and alarm bubbled in my chest. Was he drunk? He didn’t sound like the Kai I knew at all.

“Um…” I let out an uncomfortable laugh and tried to twist out of his hold, but it was hard in my dress. “You’re right. It is too soon. And, while I really like you as a friend…” I emphasized the last word. “I’m not sure I want to date right now.”

He wasn’t listening. He was too busy looking over my head with a wicked smile.

“Here he comes,” he murmured.

Before I could ask who he was talking about, a warm, familiar hand landed on my shoulder.

“Take your hands off my fiancée.” Dark and turbulent, the order was packed with so much tightly leashed danger it was a spark away from combustion.

“Apologies.” Kai released me, his expression strangely self-satisfied. “I didn’t realize…”

“I don’t give a fuck what you did or didn’t realize.” The lethally quiet statement poured ice down my spine. “Touch Vivian again, and I’ll kill you.”

Simple. Brutal. Honest.

Kai’s eyes flickered along with a ghost of a smile. “Noted.” He inclined his head at us. “Enjoy.”

I watched him walk away, too stunned to speak.

It was only when Dante whirled me around and clasped my hand in his that I found my voice.

“What are you doing here?” My feet followed his lead out of instinct, but the rest of my body tingled with alarm.

His presence was too powerful, his scent too all-consuming. It crowded my lungs, filling them with clean earthiness and rich spices.

When I was around him, it was easy to lose myself, no matter how upset or heartbroken I was.

My ability to breathe ceased when his eyes connected with mine.

Dark hair. Sculpted cheekbones. Firm, sensual lips.

It’d been less than a week since we last saw each other, yet he was somehow more beautiful than I remembered.

“I was invited. By you, I believe.” The cold brutality vanished, replaced with warm amusement. It was like Kai’s departure had flipped a switch.

I thought I detected a hint of nerves as well, but I must’ve heard wrong. Dante was never nervous.

“You know what I mean. What are you doing here, dancing with me?”

His palm practically burned mine. I desperately wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t with everyone watching. It seemed like every set of eyes was trained on us.

“Because you’re my fiancée, and this is your big night. You’ve worked months on the Legacy Ball, Vivian. Did you think I was going to miss it?”

The words were needles to my heart, injecting it with a rush of electricity and adrenaline before I forced it to calm.

If the past week had taught me anything, it was that every high came with a devastating crash.

“I’m not your fiancée anymore.”

Dante fell silent.

At first glance, he looked every inch the enigmatic CEO out on a night on the town. His custom-made tuxedo molded to his body, emphasizing broad shoulders and sleek, powerful muscles. The soft lights threw his bold features into sharp relief, and his chin held its usual proud, arrogant tilt.

But a closer look revealed the faint purple smudges beneath his eyes. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth, and his grip was tight, almost desperate when he replied.

“We had a fight,” he said, his voice low. “We didn’t officially break up.”

Disbelief roused from its slumber, joining its cousins shock and frustration.

“Yes, we did. I gave you back my ring. You took it. I moved out.” Sort of. I needed to get the rest of my belongings once I had a chance to breathe. “In my world, that means we broke up. And that’s not even touching all the…the complications between you and my father.”

The difference between this Dante and the one who’d watched me walk away four days ago was so stark, I was convinced an alien imposter had hijacked his body.

“Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” A swallow worked its way down his throat. All remnants of his playful mask disappeared, revealing nerves I never thought he possessed. “I fucked up, Vivian. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have, and I’m trying to make it right.”

The words vibrated through the air and somehow reached my chest before they did my ears.

By the time my brain processed them, my heart was already twisted and in shambles.

He couldn’t do this. Not now, not here, when I’d just started functioning properly after the havoc earlier this week.

“It doesn’t matter.” I willed the words past my tongue. “Like you said, it was just business.”

Anguish darkened the edges of Dante’s eyes. “Mia cara…”

My throat constricted.

The rest of the ball fell away, disintegrating like crumpled pieces of paper thrown into the fire of Dante’s presence.

Mia cara.

He was the only person who could utter that phrase so softly and achingly, like it was a beautiful substitute for another set of words we were too afraid to say.

I blinked away the emotion in my eyes. “I left four days ago, Dante. You were happy to let me walk away then. Do you expect me to believe you did a one-eighty in such a short period of time?”

“No. I don’t expect you to believe anything I say, but I hope you do,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry you found out the truth the way you did. I should’ve told you earlier, but the truth is…” His throat flexed with another hard swallow. “I wasn’t ready to let you go. I pulled back after Paris and told myself I was easing you into the truth when in reality, I wanted the best of both worlds. To keep you and to fool myself into thinking I wouldn’t.”

“I hated your father, Vivian. I still do. And I hated the idea of him winning in any way, including…” Dante’s grip tightened around mine. “Including if I stayed with you the way I wanted. It wasn’t my finest reasoning or proudest moment, but it’s the truth. Yes, I was forced into the engagement, but everything that happened afterward? Our dates, our talks, our trip to Paris…no one forced me to do those things. They were real. And I was stupid enough to think I could get over them or you when…”

His voice dropped, turning raw. “You’ve been gone less than a week and I already feel like I’ve spent an eternity in hell.”

The breath fled my lungs. Oxygen solidified into something sweet and honeyed that dripped into my stomach, filling it with warmth.

A choked sob entered the mix before I swallowed it.

There was no one near us. Everyone gave Dante a wide berth, and the majority of guests had returned to their conversations instead of staring at us.

Still, I couldn’t afford any break in composure. One crack was all it would take for me to shatter completely.

“But nothing’s changed,” I said, my voice thick. “You still hate my father, and he still wins if we marry.”

I didn’t mention the disowning or company troubles yet. Those were whole other cans of worms.

“You’re wrong,” Dante said. “Something has changed. I thought I could live without you. That my vengeance meant more than my feelings for you. It took only a few days—hell, a few hours—to realize I can’t, and it doesn’t. I didn’t want to distract you while you were preparing for the ball, which is why I haven’t reached out earlier. But…” His throat worked with another swallow. “I love you, Vivian. More than I could ever hate your father. And more than I ever thought I was capable of.”

My heart soared; my stomach plunged into a wild free fall. The contradiction defied the laws of physics, but nothing about our relationship had ever adhered to rules.

I love you, Vivian.

The words echoed in my head and spilled into my chest, where they met their counterparts for the first time.

I love you, too. Even after what you did. Even if I shouldn’t. I love you more than I could ever hate you.

The only difference was, I couldn’t bring myself to voice them yet.

“You and me,” Dante said. His eyes held mine. “For real this time. We can make it work. That is…if you want to.”

If you can forgive me.

The real meaning brimmed between us.

Could we really move past what happened this easily and quickly? He seemed sincere, but…

I never willingly chose her.

I did what I had to do.

This is just business.

I plummeted back to earth.

I loved Dante. I’d known since Paris, and there was no point pretending my feelings had magically changed overnight despite what happened.

I loved the way his smiles peeked through his scowls.

I loved how he kissed my shoulder every morning when I woke up.

I missed his humor and intelligence, his strength and vulnerability, his thoughtfulness and ambition.

But just because I loved him didn’t mean I trusted him or myself.

We can make it work. That is…if you want to.

The week’s emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll on me, and I had no clue what I wanted. I hadn’t even worked out how I felt about my father’s company’s troubles. Obviously, Dante had a hand in it. But how upset was I really when a tiny, secret part of me blamed Lau Jewels for what my family had become?

“Go on a date with me,” he said when I didn’t answer. “We’ll do anything you want. Even eat popcorn.”

I didn’t smile at his joke. Another flicker of nerves surfaced in his eyes.

“We’ve been on dates before.”

“That was before. This is now.” His face softened. “Just one date. Please.”

My heart wrenched, but I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Frustration and a splash of panic tightened his features. “Why not?”

“There’re a thousand different reasons. You hate my family. You never wanted to get married, and you never wanted me. You were forced into it, and if we get together again, my father still wins. And…” Dryness coated my throat. “We’re not good together, Dante. Our relationship was so hot and cold, but we made it work because we had to make it work. Now that we don’t…” I searched for the right way to phrase my thoughts. “Things have been difficult since day one. Maybe it’s a sign.”

The last part came out quietly, like a pin dropping into the ocean.

Our relationship had been tainted from the start. Even if I loved him, I couldn’t see how we could overcome the mistakes of our past.

My heart twisted again, this time with pain so sharp I wasn’t sure how I’d survive it.

But I would. I had to.

“That’s six reasons,” Dante said. “I can work with six. I can even work with a thousand.”

My chest ached. “Dante…”

“You don’t think we’re a good idea, but I’ll prove we are.” Determination lined his jaw, but his voice and lips were soft as they brushed my forehead. “Give me time, mia cara. That’s all I need, besides you.”