It’s only with reluctance that I let her go, because she deserves to shine.

  She deserves it as much as I deserve to witness it.

  Her green eyes look back at me, filled with serenity that I knew would be there. When it comes to music there is nothing that makes this woman nervous. Not even the Den, which she has managed to visit a few times now. Not even this crowd of wealthy and powerful people, all of them watching her with wonder. There is only grace and confidence as she crosses the small stage and sits down on the bench.

  Beyond the raised frame of the piano, I see Harper send a small wave to Bea. Behind her sits Sutton, a grave expression on his face. He hides it well, but it’s clear how he feels about the vibrant young woman. Even less clear is how Christopher feels, though he does not seem to be in attendance tonight. There is sexual attraction, to be sure. Inappropriate between siblings, even if the connection was made through marriage and not biology. It remains to be seen whether there is anything more.

  Bea takes a breath that I recognize from the countless times I’ve watched her play. Her fingers find the keys without her having to look down. This instrument may be new to her, but she knows the notes like they’re parts of her soul. Like they’re written on her skin.

  And when she plays, the stars themselves come alight.

  Thank you so much for reading Hugo and Bea’s story. My brand new book is about a jaded military hero and a violin prodigy… Liam North got custody of me when I was twelve years old. I'm grown up now but he still treats me like a child.

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  And if you enjoyed this book, you’ll love SURVIVAL OF THE RICHEST. Find out what happens with Harper, Sutton, and Christopher!

  An heiress without a cause.

  Two billionaires determined to claim her.

  And a war fought on the most dangerous battlefield—the heart.

  My story starts with a plunge into the cold water of Manhattan’s harbor. A strong hand hauls me back onto the deck of the luxury yacht. Christopher was supposed to be my enemy. Instead he protects me with fierce determination.

  That should have been my happily ever after, but then Sutton appeared–ruthless and seductive. He doesn’t care that my heart belongs to someone else, because he’s determined to win. No matter the cost.

  It’s an impossible choice, but I can’t have them both.

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  And the sexy virgin auction book THE PAWN with Gabriel and Avery in Tanglewood is FREE on all retailers! There’s one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value—my body.

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  Join my Facebook group, Skye Warren’s Dark Room, for exclusive giveaways and sneak peeks of future books. Turn the page for an excerpt from The Pawn…

  Excerpt from The Pawn

  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.

  “I need…” My heart thuds as I think about all the things I need—a rewind button. One person in the city who doesn’t hate me by name alone. “I need a loan.”

  He gives me a slow perusal, from the nervous slide of my tongue along my lips to the high neckline of my clothes. I tried to dress professionally—a black cowl-necked sweater and pencil skirt. His strange amber gaze unbuttons my coat, pulls away the expensive cotton, tears off the fabric of my bra and panties. He sees right through me, and I shiver as a ripple of awareness runs over my skin.

  I’ve met a million men in my life. Shaken hands. Smiled. I’ve never felt as seen through as I do right now. Never felt like someone has turned me inside out, every dark secret exposed to the harsh light. He sees my weaknesses, and from the cruel set of his mouth, he likes them.

  His lids lower. “And what do you have for collateral?”

  Nothing except my word. That wouldn’t be worth anything if he knew my name. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know.”

  Nothing.

  He takes a step forward, and suddenly I’m crowded against the brick wall beside the door, his large body blocking out the warm light from inside. He feels like a furnace in front of me, the heat of him in sharp contrast to the cold brick at my back. “What’s your name, girl?”

  The word girl is a slap in the face. I force myself not to flinch, but it’s hard. Everything about him overwhelms me—his size, his low voice. “I’ll tell Mr. Scott my name.”

  In the shadowed space between us, his smile spreads, white and taunting. The pleasure that lights his strange yellow eyes is almost sensual, as if I caressed him. “You’ll have to get past me.”

  My heart thuds. He likes that I’m challenging him, and God, that’s even worse. What if I’ve already failed? I’m free-falling, tumbling, turning over without a single hope to anchor me. Where will I go if he turns me away? What will happen to my father?

  “Let me go,” I whisper, but my hope fades fast.

  His eyes flash with warning. “Little Avery James, all grown up.”

  A small gasp resounds in the space between us. He already knows my name. That means he knows who my father is. He knows what he’s done. Denials rush to my throat, pleas for understanding. The hard set of his eyes, the broad strength of his shoulders tells me I won’t find any mercy here.

  I square my shoulders. I’m desperate but not broken. “If you know my name, you know I have friends in high places. Connections. A history in this city. That has to be worth something. That’s my collateral.”

  Those connections might not even take my call, but I have to try something. I don’t know if it will be enough for a loan or even to get me through the door. Even so, a faint feeling of family pride rushes over my skin. Even if he turns me away, I’ll hold my head high.

  Golden eyes study me. Something about the way he said little Avery James felt familiar, but I’ve never seen this man. At least I don’t think we’ve met. Something about the otherworldly glow of those eyes whispers to me, like a melody I’ve heard before.

  On his driver’s license it probably says something mundane, like brown. But that word can never encompass the way his eyes seem almost luminous, orbs of amber that hold the secrets of the universe. Brown can never describe the deep golden hue of them, the indelible opulence in his fierce gaze.

  “Follow me,” he says.

  Relief courses through me, flooding numb limbs, waking me up enough that I wonder what I’m doing here. These aren’t men, they’re animals. They’re predators, and I’m prey. Why would I willingly walk inside?

  What other choice do I have?

  I step over the veined marble threshold.

  The man closes the door behind me, shutting out the rain and the traffic, the entire city disappeared in one soft turn of the lock. Without another word he walks down the hall, deeper into the shadows. I hurry to follow him, my chin held high, shoulders back, for all the world as if I were an invited guest. Is this how the gazelle feels when she runs over the plains, a study in grace, poised for her slaughter?

  The entire world goes black behind the staircase, only breath, only bodies in the dark. Then he opens another thick wooden door, revealing a dimly lit room of cherrywood and cut crystal, of leather and smoke. Barely I see dark eyes, dark suits. Dark men.

  I have the sudden urge to hide behind the man with the golden eyes. He’s wide and tall, with hands that could wrap around my waist. He’s a giant of a man, rough-hewn and hard as stone.

  Except he’s not here to protect me.

  He could be the most dangerous of all.

  The price of survival…

  * * *

  Gabriel Miller swept into my life like a storm. He tore down my father with cold retribution, leaving him penniless in a hospital bed. I quit my private all-girl’s college to take care of the only family I have left.

  There’s one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value.

  My virginity.

  A forbidden auction…

  Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.

  Except he’s playing a deeper game than I know. Every move brings us together, every secret rips us apart. And when the final piece is played, only one of us can be left standing.

  * * *

  “Skye Warren’s THE PAWN is a triumph of intrigue, angst, and sensual drama. I was clenching everything. Gabriel and Avery sucked me in from the first few paragraphs and never let go.” – New York Times bestselling author Annabel Joseph

  * * *

  One-click The Pawn now!

  Excerpt from Tough Love

  The moon sits high above the tree line. Somewhere beyond those woods is an electric fence. And beyond that is an entire city of people living and working and loving each other. I may as well be on the moon for how close I am to them.

  A guard walks by my window at 10:05 p.m. Right on time.

  I wait a few minutes until he’s out of earshot; then I flip the latch. From there it’s quick work to push up the pane with its bulletproof glass. I broke the lock a year ago. And almost every night since then I’ve sneaked down the ornate metal trellis—like a thief, stealing a moment to myself.

  The grass is still damp from the rain, the ground beneath like a sponge, sucking me in. I cross the lawn, heart beating against my chest. I know exactly where the guards are on their rounds. I know exactly where the trip wires are that will set off the alarms. My father is too busy in his office to even glance outside.

  The office I broke into this morning.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the pool. I’m still out in the open, but the bright underwater lights make it hard to see anything on the patio. They make it hard to see me as I curve around the edge and reach the pool house.

  The door opens before I touch the handle. “Clara,” comes the whisper.

  I can’t help but smile as I slip into the dark. Giovanni always opens the door for me. It’s like some old-world chivalry thing, even though we’re just two kids sneaking around. At least, that’s how everyone treats me. Like a kid. But when I’m with him, I feel less like a girl, more like a woman.

  He looks out the door for a beat before shutting and locking it. “Are you sure no one saw you?”

  “You’re such a worrywart, Gio.” I let myself fall onto the couch, facing up.

  “If your father ever found out…”

  We’d be in so much trouble. My father is a member of the mob. Giovanni’s father is a foot soldier who works security on the grounds. Both our dads are seriously dangerous, not to mention a little unhinged. I can’t even think about how bad it would be if they caught us sneaking around after dark.

  I push those thoughts away. “Did you bring it?”

  Reluctantly, Giovanni nods. He gestures to the side table, where a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels gleams in the faint light. “Did you?”

  I reach into the pockets of my jeans and pull out two cigars. I hold them up and grin. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

  He rolls his eyes, but I think he’s relieved. “This was a bad idea.”

  “It was my idea,” I remind him, and his cheeks turn dark.

  Of course the little homework assignment was my idea. I’m the one ridiculously sheltered up in my room with the tutors and the gilded locks. Fifteen years old and I’ve never even been out to the movies. Giovanni gets to go to regular school. He’s too young to get inducted, but I know he gets to be at some of the sit-ins.

  “I just want to try them,” I say. “I’m not going to get addicted or anything.”

  He snorts. “More likely you’ll get a hangover. How are you going to explain puking to your padre?”

  “Honor will cover for me.” My sister always covers for me. She takes the brunt of my father’s anger. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I love the way she protects me. But one percent of the time, it feels like a straitjacket. That’s why I started coming to the pool house. And I’m glad I did. This is where I met Giovanni.

  He examines the cigar, eyes narrowed.

  “How do you even light it?” I ask. I’ve seen my father do it a hundred times, but I’m still not clear on how the whole thing doesn’t just catch fire. Isn’t it made from dried plants?

  He puts the cigar to his lips experimentally. It looks strange seeing his full lips around something I’ve mostly seen my father use. Then he blows out a breath, miming how it would be. I imagine white smoke curling in front of his tanned skin.

  “They don’t let you use them when they do?” I ask.

  He gives me a dark look. I’m not supposed to talk about the side jobs he does for his father. “I mostly sit in a corner and hope no one notices me. It’s boring.”

  “If it’s boring, then why won’t you talk about it?” I know it’s not a good thing to be noticed by men like our father, to be groomed by them, but sometimes that seems better than being ignored. I’m the younger one. And a girl. And there are rumors that I’m not even my father’s legitimate child. In other words, I’m lucky my sister remembers to feed me.

  He swears in Italian. “That’s no life for you, Clara.”

  “And it’s a life for you?”

  “I would leave if I could,” he says. “You know that.”

  “You turn eighteen in a year. Will you leave then?” My stomach clenches at the thought of him gone. I’m two years younger than him. And even when I turn eighteen, I won’t be leaving. By then I’ll be engaged to whoever my father picks for me.

  Just like my sister. I shudder at the thought of her fiancé.

  He shrugs. “We’ll see.”

  I roll my eyes. I suspect he’s making plans, but he isn’t sharing them with me. That’s how the men around here operate, keeping girls in the dark. Honor only found out she was engaged when Byron was invited over for dinner. He has the money and the power. She doesn’t get a choice. Neither will I.

  “If you go, you should take me with you,” I say.

  “I don’t think Honor would appreciate me taking you away.”

  No, she wouldn’t. And the thought of being without my sister makes my heart ache. Sometimes I give her a hard time, but I love her. I’d never leave her behind. “She can come with us. It will be like an adventure.”

  “Don’t talk stupid, Clara.” His eyes flash with anger and something else I can’t define.