Novels by Penny Lee

The room had transformed into something altogether different from the elegant showroom it had been moments before. The air itself seemed to have thickened, growing heavy with an unspoken tension that pressed against Charity's skin like a physical weight.She stood frozen near the dressing screen, her fingers still trembling from the last encounter, watching as Lucas moved through the space with the controlled grace of a man who had decided to abandon all pretense of restraint.He was no longer leaning against the door with that casual, almost bored demeanor he wore like armor. Instead, he stood in the center of the room, having discarded his jacket somewhere in the chaos of the past hour, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, corded forearms that spoke of power and control in equal measure.The muscles beneath his skin shifted with each subtle movement, and Charity found herself transfixed by the sight of him, the way his posture had grown ri

Charity blinked as the abrupt shift in his demeanor sent her equilibrium spiraling, leaving her teetering on uncertain ground while her heart performed an erratic rhythm against her ribs.The words tumbled from her lips before she could catch them, a breathless protest born of genuine exhaustion and the peculiar vulnerability that came from being watched so intently."Already? I just put this one on! My arms are tired, and I mean genuinely tired, the kind of tired that makes you question every life choice that led you to this moment." She finds his request ridiculous, does he not like the dress?Lucas didn't answer yet and simply gazed at her, intensely than before."Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be a dress-up doll for someone who evaluates each outfit like he's judging a particularly high-stakes art competition?" She continued, avoiding any chance to slip with her tongue and stammer. "I have developed a new and profound appreciation for mannequins, those lucky, silent

"I don't even know where to start," Charity stammered, her hand gesturing vaguely toward the row of mannequins that stood before her like silent sentinels draped in unimaginable luxury.Her voice had taken on that particular pitch it always did when she was completely out of her depth, somewhere between a nervous laugh and a squeak of pure panic."This is too much. I feel like I'm stealing. Like at any moment security is going to burst through that door and drag me out with my very reasonably priced earrings."She punctuated the statement by touching one of the aforementioned earrings, a pair of delicate silver hoops she'd purchased from a street vendor a year ago for the princely sum of twelve dollars. They felt impossibly inadequate in this room, surrounded by silk and cashmere and fabrics whose names she couldn't even pronounce.Lucas didn't look up from the tablet he was studying, his long fingers swiping across the screen with the kind of casual authority that came from a lifetim

The pulsing bass of the runway music vibrated through the velvet upholstery of the front-row seat, echoing the frantic rhythm that had taken up residence in Charity's chest and showed no signs of leaving.The air around them smelled of expensive ozone and heavy perfumes, layered with the metallic tang of high-voltage lighting that buzzed overhead like a captive storm.Everything about the evening felt engineered to overwhelm the senses, from the blinding flashes of photographers' cameras to the impossibly beautiful people who moved through the crowd with the casual grace of those who had never once worried about rent.Lucas leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers with a deliberateness that made her breath catch. The heat radiating from his body felt like a physical weight pressing against her side, and she could smell the subtle notes of sandalwood and something darker beneath it, something that reminded her of woodsmoke and winter evenings."Do you see something you like?" His voic

Lucas had spent his entire life learning to control his impulses, to channel his anger and his darkness into productive avenues, to never allow his emotions to dictate his actions.He had become a master of restraint, a man who could face any provocation with icy composure and calculated response. And yet, here he was, standing over a sleeping woman in her own home, feeling a surge of something dangerously close to possessiveness at the mere thought of another man showing her kindness.He snorted softly, shaking his head at his own absurdity."Fool," he murmured under his breath, though whether he was speaking to himself or to some unseen observer, he couldn't say.He pulled the blanket up to Charity's chin, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with a gentleness that would have shocked anyone who knew him. Then, without looking back, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.The night was still young, and there was work to be done.The next mornin

Charity blinked, turning to look at him properly for the first time since she had entered the car. "What?"Without taking his eyes off the road, Lucas reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a thick envelope. It was made of heavy cream-colored paper, its surface textured with what looked like hand-pressed linen, and it bore no address beyond a single line of elegant calligraphy: Miss Charity Vance.Hesitantly, Charity accepted the envelope, her fingers brushing against his in the transfer. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she had to resist the urge to snatch her hand back as if burned. Instead, she focused on the envelope, breaking the wax seal with trembling fingers and pulling out the card inside.Her breath caught in her throat.The invitation was a work of art in itself, surely the product of some master stationer who charged more for a single card than most people earned in a month.The paper was thick and creamy, embedded with delica