Delilah sprints off toward her colorful plastic shovels and buckets, innocently unaware that she’s left Luca looking shell shocked. He stands, almost gingerly, as if he’s been hit by a ton of bricks. And maybe that would have been easier for him to bear than love.
I go to him, pressing my cheek against his hard chest.
His arms come around me, crushing me. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick.
The only reason we’re free is because of him. “You saved me, Luca.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “No, little bird. You saved me.”
*
Thank you for reading Luca and Beth’s story!
TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH does standalone, but it also featured cameos from characters in both the Stripped series and the Chicago Underground series! If you’re new to the sensual and dark USA Today bestselling Stripped series about a mafia princess who goes on the run and winds up in a strip club, you can start with Tough Love. And if you want to find out how Allie met her rough prince, you can start the gritty USA Today bestselling Chicago Underground series with Rough.
I’m so pleased to offer a sneak peek of my next release! THE PAWN is a brand new full-length dark contemporary novel about revenge and seduction in the game of love…
"Sinfully sexy and darkly beautiful, The Pawn will play games with your heart and leave you craving more!" ~ Laura Kaye, New York Times bestselling author
*
Wind whips around my ankles, flapping the bottom of my black trench coat. Beads of moisture form on my eyelashes. In the short walk from the cab to the stoop, my skin has slicked with humidity left by the rain.
Carved vines and ivy leaves decorate the ornate wooden door.
I have some knowledge of antique pieces, but I can’t imagine the price tag on this one—especially exposed to the elements and the whims of vandals. I suppose even criminals know enough to leave the Den alone.
Officially the Den is a gentlemen’s club, the old-world kind with cigars and private invitations. Unofficially it’s a collection of the most powerful men in Tanglewood. Dangerous men. Criminals, even if they wear a suit while breaking the law.
A heavy brass knocker in the shape of a fierce lion warns away any visitors. I’m desperate enough to ignore that warning. My heart thuds in my chest and expands out, pulsing in my fingers, my toes. Blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the whoosh of traffic behind me.
I grasp the thick ring and knock—once, twice.
Part of me fears what will happen to me behind that door. A bigger part of me is afraid the door won’t open at all. I can’t see any cameras set into the concrete enclave, but they have to be watching. Will they recognize me? I’m not sure it would help if they did. Probably best that they see only a desperate girl, because that’s all I am now.
The softest scrape comes from the door. Then it opens.
I’m struck by his eyes, a deep amber color—like expensive brandy and almost translucent. My breath catches in my throat, lips frozen against words like please and help. Instinctively I know they won’t work; this isn’t a man given to mercy. The tailored cut of his shirt, its sleeves carelessly rolled up, tells me he’ll extract a price. One I can’t afford to pay.
There should have been a servant, I thought. A butler. Isn’t that what fancy gentlemen’s clubs have? Or maybe some kind of a security guard. Even our house had a housekeeper answer the door—at least, before. Before we fell from grace.
Before my world fell apart.
The man makes no move to speak, to invite me in or turn me away. Instead he stares at me with vague curiosity, with a trace of pity, the way one might watch an animal in the zoo. That might be how the whole world looks to these men, who have more money than God, more power than the president.
That might be how I looked at the world, before.
My throat feels tight, as if my body fights this move, even while my mind knows it’s the only option. “I need to speak with Damon Scott.”
Scott is the most notorious loan shark in the city. He deals with large sums of money, and nothing less will get me through this. We have been introduced, and he left polite society by the time I was old enough to attend events regularly. There were whispers, even then, about the young man with ambition. Back then he had ties to the underworld—and now he’s its king.
One thick eyebrow rises. “What do you want with him?”
A sense of familiarity fills the space between us even though I know we haven’t met. This man is a stranger, but he looks at me as if he wants to know me. He looks at me as if he already does. There’s an intensity to his eyes when they sweep over my face, as firm and as telling as a touch.