Lydia Davis Books Novels & Stories

“These are from Lydia. She’s been working with the Rogues, some of you might recognize the handwriting. She’s been helping them plan a takeover for years.” Lydia’s face paled for a split second, but she quickly smoothed it over, putting on her usual sweet, fake ass expression. “Ryan…” she whispered, clinging to him like a terrified child. “She’s unstable. She escaped the dungeon and stole those, she’s trying to ruin our night.” Ruin our night. The same poison stained words she always used.

“Talk to Josh gently,” Lydia whispered as Althea and her son stepped inside the house. She had declined Althea’s offer to stay for dinner—despite the tempting promise of her favorite chicken broth soup—because she had a flight to catch to Chicago that evening. There were things waiting for her there she couldn’t put off. “I know,” Althea replied, her voice low, her worry still clinging to her like a shadow. “It’s just that...” “You think he’s the only man in the world named Daven?” Lydia cut her off, sounding more annoyed than she intended. “Come on, just go inside and get some rest. I’ve already asked the driver to take me to the airport.”

Viviane asked as she wiped at the excess water in the white porcelain sink with a dishcloth. Carefully placing the dinner plate on top of the others in the cupboard, Eliza thought about her answer. Should she admit that she met a stranger for coffee? Well, he wasn’t a complete stranger since she’d danced quite a bit with him the night before. The only problem was that this was something that she could barely remember. Since it wasn’t her habit of sharing girl talk with her mother, she decided against starting and simply said, “I went to see Reba.”

Her mother lay fighting for her life while Chelsea stood in borrowed glamour, feeling dirty and out of place. As Davis laughed and mingled with familiar friends amid soft cocktail music, Chelsea excused herself to grab a drink. She felt a little relieved to be out of his possessive hold - at least for the moment. That's when she bumped into Lucas Kings. “Oh—sorry,” she said automatically, then froze. Lucas Kings. Her breath caught. “You’re… you’re Lucas Kings. I love your books,” she blurted out. “I’ve read all of them.” His eyes lit up. “That’s dangerous information.”

Lydia, on the other hand, was trying to ignore the chaos in the room by burying her nose in a book whilst lying on her bed. “Lydia,” Vanessa called, dragging out the name like a warning. “Hmm?” Lydia did not look up. “You can not seriously think now is the best time to read,” Vanessa said, capping her lipstick and twisting to look at her. “There are a hundred better times for that. Like...literally any other time that is not party prep.” Lydia finally looked up, unfazed. “I like to read when it is quiet. You are making so much noise, it’s basically a perfect challenge for my focus.”

"She gets it from everywhere." Nick's POV Lydia moved in on a Saturday in November. She brought less than I expected, which she explained was because she had spent years living only with things she had actively chosen and had become very selective about what qualified. She had three boxes of books. Two boxes of drawings. A plant she had kept alive for nine years. And a set of drafting tools in a leather case that she handled the way Luke handled his notebooks. Luke helped carry things. He carried the books with the reverence of someone who understood books as primary objects.

Devin's POV Solomon found Lydia Vance on a Tuesday morning, ten days after the hospital scare. She was hiding in a small town in Vermont, working as a waitress in a diner off the interstate under a name that was not her own. She had dyed her hair a mousy brown and stopped wearing makeup and developed the hunched, evasive posture of a woman who was afraid of her own shadow. When Solomon's people approached her at the end of her shift, she tried to run. They caught her gently, spoke to her calmly, and convinced her that they were not working for Martin Lovelace.

For the first time in years, Damian Cross had no control—over his empire, his secrets, or the one woman who made him feel alive. And somewhere in the shadows of the night, a woman with gray hair and ice-blue eyes watched from a distance… her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. Lydia Vale had returned.

she said slowly, “I’ll meet him there.” Noah searched her face. “You’re not scared?” Lydia let out a quiet breath. “I was scared when I was running through the woods,” she said. “I was scared when I thought I might lose him. I’m not scared of paperwork.” She had already survived the worst version of Adrian. And Lydia had learned something the hard way… predictable men could be beaten. “If he wants a war…” she said softly, “Then he’s going to learn I don’t lose mine.”

She, however, reminded herself those lips had been on another and parts of her body she didn't want to think about. "Does that mean you will be coming for breakfast and dinner now?" "Whenever I can, I will." He replied. Lydia came to her room and reached for her laptop beside the bed. She brought it home to finish work she couldn't complete in the office before closing on Friday, and she turned it on. The voices in her head told her not to go down that path, but her curiosity overrode the voice of reasoning as she opened the laptop and searched out Jayden White. News sources and articles popped out in their dozens, and now she had to navigate and find what she was looking for. She saw the po