King of Greed: Chapter 27
King of Greed (Kings of Sin, 3)
I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for one night.
After I surveyed the shopâs damage, I went home, showered, and fell asleep feeling sorry for myself. However, sometime between Saturday night and Sunday morning, the self-pity crystallized into determination.
Iâd spent years living on the sidelines. Now that Iâd finally stepped out of my comfort zone, was I really going to let the first obstacle I encountered knock me down?
It was physical damage, not death or financial disaster. My problem was totally fixable. If worse came to worst, Iâd push back the grand opening and take a hit on the nonrefundable expenses like catering.
With that in mind, I spent the rest of the weekend formulating a game plan and looking up costs for replacement furniture and inventory. Most of them made my stomach churn. I needed rush deliveries to fix the shop in time for the grand opening, and rush deliveries (especially during the holidays) were expensive. Really expensive. Rentersâ insurance covered some of the costs, but I would still have to pay a decent chunk out of pocket.
On the bright side, I wasnât responsible for any property damage. Aiden was, and he swung by the following Monday anyway to assess the situation.
âThe good news is, it couldâve been worse,â he said after his walk-through. He was unexpectedly calm, but I guess he dealt with burst pipes often as a landlord. âThe electrical system is mostly intact, and the ceiling hasnât collapsed.â
A weak laugh scraped up my throat. It was lunchtime. Iâd been cleaning the debris since six in the morning, and I probably looked like death warmed over, but I was too exhausted to care. âThank God for the small things. Whatâs the bad news?â
I might as well face it all at the same time. One giant blow was better than a thousand small cuts.
âThe bad news is, your fingers are going to bleed from how many flowers you need to press before the grand opening.â Aiden rapped a gentle knuckle against the table where Iâd dumped the ruined projects. âWhatâs the damage?â
âTwo dozen.â I deflated. It took me at least a week to get each one exactly the way I wanted it. Recreating two dozen in the next two months was impossible unless I spent every waking hour on the project. I didnât have the luxury of doing that. Even with my virtual assistantsâ help, administrative tasks dominated half my workload.
âHow about this? Iâll handleââ
The jangle of bells above the front door cut Aiden off mid-sentence.
Sharp jaw. Golden stubble. Lean muscles and ruthless command wrapped in a custom-tailored charcoal suit. Dominic.
A cool rush of shock flooded me. It was the middle of his first day back to work. What the hell was he doing here?
His gaze found mine, warm with concern, before coasting to Aiden. It was like watching a switch flip. The concern vanished beneath a layer of frost, and a vat of tension-laced silence drenched the already-damp floors.
âHey,â Aiden said easily. His tone was cordial, but challenge flickered in his eyes. âYouâre Alessandraâs ex, right?â
I flinched at his emphasis on the word ex. I didnât relish the prospect of cleaning up blood along with everything else because that was where we were headed if Aiden provoked Dominic any further.
A smile curved along Dominicâs mouth, as dark and cold as midnight ice. âHave we met?â
âYeah. I was having dinner with her and you interrupted us.â Aidenâs smile matched his. âKind of like how youâre interrupting us now.â
âOkay. â I quickly stepped in between them before their testosterone overran their good sense. âAs much as Iâm enjoying this chat, I have a lot to do. Aiden, thank you for coming by on such short notice. Iâll call you if I have any questions. Dominic, what can I do for you?â I asked pointedly.
âIâm here to assist with cleanup.â He kept his eyes on Aiden, who didnât budge from his spot next to me. I stifled a sigh. Men. âYour grand opening is coming up. Every extra pair of hands helps.â The thought of Dominic engaging in manual labor was so absurd I almost laughed out loud.
âYou have work.â I could only imagine how much had piled up during his time in Brazil. âIâll be fine. Itâs tedious, but Iâll get it done.â
âYou also need to recreate your collection,â Aiden told me. âThatâs a better use of your time than sweeping and taking out the trash. Dominic is right. Every extra pair of hands helps.â He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. âIâm happy to pitch in as well. I prefer physical tasks over desk work anyway.â
It was another indirect barb at Dominic, whose chilling calm reminded me of the ocean before a storm.
âIâve rearranged my schedule.â Dominic acted like Aiden hadnât spoken. âIâll work and take meetings in the morning, but my afternoons are reserved for you.â
His gaze found mine again. My heart wobbled as his words slid into the empty places lurking beneath my defenses.
I wanted to say no. Brazil was one thing; inviting Dominic back into my life in New York was another. That wasnât even touching on the Aiden issue.
But Aiden was right about me needing to recreate my collection. I couldnât open a pressed flowers shop with no pressed flowers on display, and the rest of the construction work was at a standstill until I fixed the damage from the burst pipe. I would be an idiot to turn down voluntary free labor.
âFine.â I sincerely hoped I wasnât creating more trouble for myself, but right now, restoring the shop trumped everything else. âIf either of you would like to help, feel free to drop by whenever you can. Butâ¦â I held up a hand when they opened their mouths at the same time. âI donât want any arguing, insults, or passive aggressiveness. Please keep it civil.â
âOf course,â Aiden said. âWe have no reason not to be. Right, Dominic?â
Dominicâs smile held no humor. âAbsolutely.â
My gaze ping-ponged between the stubborn jut of Aidenâs chin and the dangerous glint in Dominicâs eyes.
I sighed.
This was going to be a long week.