Page 44 of King of Envy

Faint screams echoed in my ears. The smell of charred flesh crawled into my lungs, and my stomach heaved.

My knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as I forced the bile down. It was only after the wave of sickness passed that I released the wheel to answer.

There’s not much to tell. I had two parents and a brother. That’s it.

The patter of rain against glass filled the car.

“Had?” Ayana said softly.

Is that your second question?

I hated talking about my family. My parents died of natural causes—my mother of heart disease, my father of cancer—so it was easier to think about them. My brother, on the other hand…

The tattoo on my inner arm burned.

“No,” Ayana said. Even softer this time, almost tentative.

I relaxed my grip on the wheel. I hadn’t realized I’d clutched it again.

The light turned green, and we inched forward again. Traffic had slowed to a crawl thanks to the rain. What should’ve been a twenty-minute ride was turning into forty minutes.

My staff was probably wondering where the hell I was, but one of the perks of being the boss was not having to answer questions.

Unless, apparently, they came from Ayana.

She appeared deep in thought until we reached another red light. “Okay, second question. And it’s not about your family, I promise.” She cleared her throat. “Are you dating anyone?”

My gaze flew to her face. She appeared composed, but I detected a trace of nerves as she shifted beneath my scrutiny.

Define dating.

“You’re in your thirties, and you need me to define dating for you? Classic guy move.”

I didn’t take the bait. I simply sat and waited.

After a minute, she sighed and clarified. “I mean, is there someone you’re involved with romantically on a regular basis?”

Define involved.

Ayana scowled. “Youknowwhat I mean.”

I don’t.Are you asking about dinner dates,Ayana, or are you asking about fucking?

Her sharp intake of breath made my mouth curve.

I shouldn’t have taken as much pleasure in her discomfort as I did. But she was the one who started this, and perhaps I wanted her to feel what I felt when I was near her—unbearable, agonizing tension, the type that condensed the world into a bubble around us and made it hard to even fucking breathe.

Ayana swallowed. She shifted again, the subtle clench of her thighs belying her even tone. “Both.”

I made her wait.

It was only after the light turned green and a cacophony of honks erupted behind us that I turned away with a simple answer.

No.

I had my needs, but they paled next to my disdain for the insipid song and dance of modern dating. The women who threw themselves at me did so for money and power, and I had zero desire to watch them not-so-discreetly swallow their revulsion in hopes of becoming a billionaire’s wife.

Even if a genuine, suitable interest came along, it didn’t matter.

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