This was my last chance.
“I agree,” I said, with as much courage as I could muster.
"Excellent." He straightened up and walked to the other side of the room casually while my heart raced in my chest. He picked up a pad of paper and a pen, then handed them to me. “Write down everything you know about your friend’s disappearance. Names, dates, and so forth.”
As I scribbled down all the details, apprehension making my handwriting look like someone else’s, he watched me closely. I kept glancing up as the pen scratched along the paper, unable to keep my eyes off him. Why did I feel like I was signing away my soul with our deal?
When I’d written down everything I could think of, I gave him back his notepad and pen. He closed his hands around mine to take them, and heat shot down to pool between my thighs again. Unexpected longing rose in my chest, and I swallowed as I tried to bring order and coherence back to my thoughts.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“This cheap place off The Strip.” I looked away, embarrassed to say the name of it. I’d scrambled up every penny I had to come here, but it was nothing compared to this penthouse. "Double Down Motel.”
His face twisted with disgust. "Give me your room key. I'll have all your things brought here.”
“What about my car?” I asked.
“My people will handle that as well.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, but pulled out my keys and handed them to him. He had people? I thought people who had people were just a myth. Who actually had people to do shit for them?
“Good.” He pocketed them and held out a hand. “Now follow me.”
Every time I touched him I felt…things. I kept my hands to myself. “Where?”
“To your new room.” His voice dripped with promise. “Though I suspect you’ll soon prefer mine."
We walked down a corridor and he threw open a door at the end. Unlike the rest of the penthouse I’d seen so far, which was all decorated in black and silver, this room was done in neutral tones. The queen-sized bed had one of those padded headboards behind it and was covered in lush blankets, a thick duvet, and soft-looking pillows. On the other side of the room was a cute sitting area and a desk in front of windows looking out at The Strip. A door led to a walk-in closet as large as my old apartment, and another opened to a massive bathroom all done in Carrera marble.
“This is your guest room?” I asked, as I took it all in, spinning in a slow circle. If this was for guests, what did his bedroom look like?
His lips quirked up in amusement. “It’s yours now. Make yourself comfortable. Order anything you like from room service. My people will bring your things along shortly, while I begin my investigation into your friend’s whereabouts.”
I shook my head, part in denial, part in wonder. This situation made no sense, and I was starting to wonder what the catch was. Maybe this was a case of mistaken identity of some sort. After all, why would he want me—me, of all people—for seven nights? I was just a basic bookworm with a nice set of boobs and a cute smile, who worked in a flower shop and wore flip-flops and jeans. Nothing special. Not compared to the women he probably surrounded himself with all the time.
Nerves churned in my gut as I considered the full force of what I’d just agreed to. Me. Here. In this penthouse. For seven nights.
And him. Doing whatever he wanted to me.
For the next week, he owned me. Completely. But it would all be worth it if he kept his side of the bargain.
I turned toward him. "Do you promise to find Brandy?"
“I will. Dead or alive, I will find her.”
He looked me in the eye, and I didn’t doubt his conviction. Lucas Ifer was a man who got things done, and if anyone could find my friend in the dark underground of Las Vegas, it was him.
He offered me his hand, and I took it to shake. The moment his skin touched mine, an electric tingle rushed through me, with that same fleeting sensation of familiarity and long-lost desire.
His fingers tightened around mine almost possessively. “It’s a deal.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Briggs is the New York Times bestselling author of paranormal and fantasy romance. She graduated from UCLA with a degree in Sociology and has worked for an international law firm, mentored teens in writing, and volunteered with dog rescue groups. Now she's a full-time geek who lives in Los Angeles with her family and a pack of fluffy dogs.
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SUN CROSSED (ZODIAC WOLVES #3)
Copyright © 2022 by Elizabeth Briggs
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover designed by Natasha Snow
Cover photo by Wander Aguiar
ISBN (paperback) 978-1-948456-43-2
ISBN (ebook) 978-1-948456-30-2