Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,27

to hug this man would end up missing an arm, but the chef doesn’t seem concerned in the least.

“This is an Ozwald Boateng.” A muscle in Beckett’s jaw pulses as he brushes his hands over his suit jacket, checking it for stains as the other man steps back. I have no idea who this Ozwald guy is, but I’m guessing he designed that expensive suit Greed is wearing.

“Lighten up, Beck,” the guy—who must be Remington—replies. He’s got a soft, crooked grin, reddish-brown hair kept short, and warm green eyes.

Wow. This is Greed’s brother?

He doesn’t look anything like Beckett. He also doesn’t behave anything like Beckett. He seems so laid back, while the man beside me is all dominating alpha male.

Beckett blows a sharp breath through his nostrils, which I think is his version of sighing. “Trinity, this is my brother, Remington. Remington, this is Trinity. She is… in need of assistance, and we came to talk to you about it.”

“Hey, sure thing. Let me set you up with a table, okay? You look starving.” With that, Remington immediately gives me a hug.

It’s a good hug too, the kind of hug that makes you feel like you’ve come home and you can relax now. I wouldn’t expect that kind of warmth from one of the sins, and my body melts into it before I can stop myself.

When he pulls away, I feel a little lightheaded.

“Are you sure he’s actually a sin?” I whisper to Beckett as his brother leads us to a table near the kitchen.

“Everyone says that.” The dark-haired man rolls his eyes, sounding both amused and annoyed. “Remington, please stop charming her. I saw her first.”

“Ah, Beck hasn’t gotten used to the fact that if you want people to like you, you have to be nice to them,” Remington replies without missing a beat. He pulls my chair out for me, and I sit down. “Seriously, has he been feeding you?”

“I feed her fine,” Beckett shoots back as he takes a seat beside me. Annoyance still lurks in his tone, but there’s no real bite to his words. He doesn’t seem genuinely angry, and I wonder if this is something he and Remington do all the time.

They are brothers, after all. Don’t brothers give each other a hard time?

Once the two of us are settled, Remington disappears into the kitchen. Within minutes, we’re being served absolutely delicious food by waiters dressed in tuxedos.

“I don’t get it,” I say, as I start to dig in. Oh, wow. If I thought last night’s meal was the best thing I’d ever eaten, it was nothing compared to this. I’m practically salivating as I try not to stuff my mouth full. I want to savor this. Who knows when I’ll get to eat food this good ever again? “I expected Gluttony to be…”

“Overweight?” Beckett looks amused. “Yes. Just as I’m sure you expected me to sleep on a pile of gold every night. We’re not stereotypes, angel. We embody the idea of whatever sin we are. And if I did sleep on a pile of gold, do you think people would be so quick to do as I told them, to follow me in pursuing their greed? True sin doesn’t come with a neon sign. It’s subtle. That’s how you hook people.”

“Huh. That’s not paranoia-inducing at all.”

Beckett chuckles. We finish the first course, and another is brought to us.

“Look,” he tells me in a low voice. “People have started wars over Remington’s cooking. He’s poisoned world leaders and led kings to fall down a rabbit hole of feasting and thinking of nothing else. He’s caused nations to fall. Just look at the bickering and backstabbing he causes in the culinary world today—although you might not be aware of that if you’re not in those circles.”

I shake my head. I didn’t even know there were culinary circles. My understanding of fine cuisine extends only as far as “liked it” and “didn’t like it.”

Beckett dips his chin. “Remi represents the desire to live a good life at the expense of making hard choices and doing hard things. He makes you want to over-indulge in the things that feel good so you forget the things that don’t. So you can ignore the difficult things you should be doing. Just like I make people hunger for more. For better.” He shrugs.

“But he’s a good person too,” I argue, and in that moment, I believe it. I feel like I can taste it in the food I’m eating.