"Unleash your creativity and unlock your potential with MsgBrains.Com - the innovative platform for nurturing your intellect." » » šŸ’”King of Sloth: A Forced Proximity Romance #4šŸ¤µā€ā™‚ļøšŸ’¼

Add to favorite šŸ’”King of Sloth: A Forced Proximity Romance #4šŸ¤µā€ā™‚ļøšŸ’¼

Select the language in which you want the text you are reading to be translated, then select the words you don't know with the cursor to get the translation above the selected word!




Go to page:
Text Size:

The end of our relationship aside, what would happen if I didnā€™t show up? Would we stop working together? Would I never see him again? Would the past two months disappear into the past like theyā€™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 Iā€™d forced down earlier churned in my stomach. Cutting all ties with Xavier would be the smartest thing to do. We couldnā€™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 likeā€”

ā€œHellooo. Earth to Sloane.ā€ Isabella waved her hand in front of my face, severing my spiraling thoughts. ā€œWhere are you?ā€

ā€œSorry.ā€ I attempted another bite of food. It tasted like cardboard. ā€œI was just thinking.ā€

ā€œAbout tonight?ā€ Alessandraā€™s eyes gleamed with knowing concern. ā€œHave you decided what youā€™re going to do?ā€

I usually grabbed takeout for lunch on workdays, but Iā€™d asked my friends to meet me at a proper restaurant because I needed their advice. Iā€™d filled them in on Xavierā€™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 wasnā€™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 elseā€™s.

The problem was, I didnā€™t have much time; I had hours at most.

ā€œNo.ā€ I flicked a piece of walnut to the side; Iā€™d forgotten to tell the server not to include them in my salad.

I didnā€™t know what dishes you like best, so I ordered a bit of everything. None with walnuts, though.

Unshed emotion crowded my throat. I hadnā€™t cried since last night, and I hadnā€™t told my friends about the tears. They werenā€™t relevant; they were a physical symptom, that was all.

I didnā€™t let myself examine what they were a physical symptom of. ā€œI shouldnā€™t go. Iā€™m not going to go,ā€ I said with half-hearted conviction. ā€œMeeting him would be stupid, right? Weā€™ll break up eventually, and itā€™s better to rip the Band-Aid off now than later down the road.ā€

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 theyā€™d gotten their happily ever afters, they didnā€™t count. They wanted to be in love, and they didnā€™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. ā€œAnyway, enough about my dating life,ā€ I said. ā€œDid I tell you about Perryā€™s visit to my office yesterday? He was fuming.ā€

I regaled the table with Perryā€™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 donā€™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.

ā€œIā€™m going to the restroom,ā€ I said. ā€œIā€™ll be right back.ā€

I ducked my head and speed walked to the ladiesā€™ room. The farther I walked, the easier it was to breathe and block out memories of Xavierā€”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.

Iā€™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 didnā€™t say hi; I wasnā€™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, Iā€™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 Iā€™dā€”

ā€œSloane.ā€

My head snapped toward the door. I recognized that voice, and of all the people I didnā€™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 whoā€™d just swallowed a lemon whole.

I wiped my face of any inner turmoil. ā€œCaroline.ā€

Iā€™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 didnā€™t get charged with aggravated assault for clawing Carolineā€™s eyes out.

Sheā€™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 didnā€™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.

ā€œI didnā€™t expect to see you here on a Tuesday afternoon,ā€ she said, reapplying the understated mauve color with precision. ā€œArenā€™t you supposed to be at that little job of yours?ā€

ā€œMy little job happens to be one of the top PR firms in the country.ā€ I gave her a brittle smile. ā€œNot everyone marries up for money. Some of us are smart enough to earn it.ā€

ā€œHow quaint.ā€ Caroline recapped her lipstick and dropped it in her purse. ā€œAs much as I love hearing about your plebeian adventuresā€¦ā€ She wrinkled her nose. ā€œI have something else Iā€™d like to discuss.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know where you can polish your horns. Perhaps you should google demon services and go from there.ā€

She pursed her mouth. ā€œHonestly, Sloane, this is why youā€™re better off working than trying to find a proper husband. No respectable man would tolerate such juvenile humor.ā€

ā€œItā€™s a good thing I donā€™t like ā€˜respectableā€™ men, then. They have a habit of saying one thing and turning around and doing the oppositeā€”sometimes with your sister.ā€

Carolineā€™s eyes narrowed at the Bentley reference, but she didnā€™t take the bait. ā€œThis is about Penelope,ā€ she said, and just like that, my snarky quips vanished.

I hadnā€™t gotten any updates about Pen since the one Xavier gave me. I didnā€™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.

ā€œShe hasnā€™t been acting like herself lately,ā€ Caroline said after a pause. ā€œShe barely eats, and her transition to a new nanny has beenā€¦difficult. Sheā€™s normally so well-behaved.ā€

How would you know? You barely talk to your own daughter. I bit back the stinging retort so I didnā€™t alienate my stepmother when she was giving me firsthand insight into whatā€™d happened after Perryā€™s bombshell post. The revelation that Pen wasnā€™t eating concerned me, but I couldnā€™t believe Caroline sounded shocked by the developments. She should know what the cause was.

ā€œShe misses Rhea,ā€ I said. ā€œRhea has been with her since she was born. Sheā€™s practically a mother to her, and you sent her away in the middle of the night without a word. Of course sheā€™s upset.ā€ Caroline tensed. I didnā€™t think she cared about anything other than her clothes and social status, but I couldā€™ve sworn I saw a flash of hurt at the mother comment.

ā€œYes, well, perhaps we were a bit hasty in our actions in that regard,ā€ she said stiffly. ā€œHowever, Rhea conspired with you to sneak visits to Penelope while George and I were gone. Sheā€™s untrustworthy, and her actions couldnā€™t go unpunished.ā€

ā€œUntrustworthy?ā€ I wouldā€™ve laughed had I not been so incensed. ā€œIf youā€™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 doesnā€™t exist because sheā€™s not perfect enough for you, but sheā€™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.ā€

Carolineā€™s lips formed a thin slash of mauve. ā€œBe 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 couldnā€™t get past your pride then, and you dragged Rhea down with you now. You have no one to blame but yourself.ā€

Are sens