SINS OF DE LUCA

Two

Jack shifts to the other side, leaving a wide space between us. The driver closes the door, walks around, and settles behind the wheel.

"What's your name?" Jack asks.

I turn toward the window.

"Why do you want to know?"

His eyes stay on me.

"I asked you a question."

"And I asked you why you want to know."

He doesn't answer right away. Just keeps looking at me, like he's deciding something. For the first time, something like amusement flickers across his face. It disappears so fast I almost doubt I saw it.

The car pulls away from the curb. Neon lights slide across the windows, then fade into the darker streets downtown. Jack leans back and closes his eyes. His breathing is slow, but I can still smell the whiskey.

He's been drinking. Not enough to lose control. Enough that his guard is lower than it should be.

I glance at his wrist. The watch catches the passing lights.

I shift slightly closer.

Jack's eyes open.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to get comfortable."

"There's enough space over there."

I lean back again, pretending to be offended.

"You're the one who brought me into the car."

"Don't mistake that for an invitation to get close."

I look out the window so he won't see my smile. He's sharper than he looks. That's good to know.

The city fades around us. The busy streets give way to quiet roads lined with tall trees and expensive houses hidden behind gates. Every turn takes me farther from the club. Farther from the places where I know how to survive.

My stomach tightens.

"Are we leaving the city?"

"You ask too many questions."

"And you give too few answers."

He turns his head toward me. In the dark of the car, his grey-blue eyes look almost silver.

"You should learn when to stay quiet."

"People usually say that when they don't want to be questioned."

His expression hardens. I look away before he can see the uneasiness underneath my words.

The car continues through the night. The silence between us grows heavier, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional vibration of his phone.

It rings again. Jack looks at the screen but doesn't answer.

A few seconds later, it rings a second time.

"Why aren't you answering?" I ask.

"Because I don't feel like it."

"Important person?"

"None of your business."

I shrug and turn back to the window.

"Then don't look so bothered."

His gaze cuts toward me. I keep my face turned away, but I can feel him watching me.

The road curves. The city disappears completely behind us.

A tall iron gate rises ahead. The driver slows. Two security men step forward. One speaks into a device, and the gate begins to open.

I sit up.

Beyond it, a long driveway stretches toward a huge white mansion. The windows are dark. The walls rise above the surrounding trees like the estate is hiding from the rest of the world.

My fingers tighten around the edge of my dress.

"What is this place?"

Jack doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at me.

The car passes through the gate. The mansion grows larger with every second. The gravel under the tires crunches, then stops. The vehicle settles in front of the main entrance.

Jack opens his door and steps out. I stay seated.

He looks back at me through the open door.

"Get out."

I stare at the house.

"I thought you were taking me somewhere private."

"You wanted somewhere away from the club."

His tone is flat. Unbothered.

"This is not what I meant."

"Then you should have been more specific."

He starts toward the entrance. I look down at my outfit. Then at the mansion again. I have no business being in a place like this.

The cold air slips through the thin lace of my dress when I finally step out of the car. Jack pauses at the front door but doesn't wait for me. I hurry after him.

The mansion stands before me like a mausoleum. All white stones. Sharp edges. Dark windows watching my every move.

Inside, the staff look at me like I've walked out of a different life.

I hear someone whisper, "First time he's brought a dancer."

I don't care. I've heard worse and worn worse.

Jack pushes a door open.

"Freshen up."

I nod and follow him into the dark corridor. The door shuts behind me with a finality that leaves no room for second thoughts.

Then I hear a woman's voice outside. Furious. Sharp.

I press closer to the door.

It swings open. I barely catch myself.

A sharp laugh echoes through the mansion.

"So this is the shameless slut you brought home?"

Jack clears his throat.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought we agreed you wouldn't stay here tonight."

She snaps her head toward him.

"We're getting married next week, and you're here fooling around." Her voice climbs. "What kind of man are you?"

He stares at her. His expression is cold.

"Why the hell do you care what I do with myself, Skylark? This isn't a real marriage."

She surges forward.

"Of course it is! And it will happen. You love me and only me, so you'd better get used to it."

I clear my throat. I can't help it. The laugh comes out before I can stop it.

She whips around.

For a second, I just stare at her.

She actually did it. She actually hit me.

Then the sting lands. Sharp, hot, spreading across my cheek. I stumble back a step, blinking fast as tears burn my eyes.

"What's so funny, you worthless, cheap—" she spits. "Don't you have any shame, loitering around someone else's fiancé? Let me guess. You don't."

I press a hand to my cheek. My voice comes out thin.

"I only came here for—"

I stop. Look between them. Jack, cold and still. Skylark, breathing hard. Both of them are staring at me like I'm the problem.

"What the hell is going on?”