Secrets and Lace: A Dark Romance Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 1) Read online

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

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  SECRETS AND LACE

  (Fatal Hearts Book 1)

  By Dori Lavelle

  Secrets and Lace (Fatal Hearts Book 1)

  Copyright © 2016 by Dori Lavelle

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Art: Dori Lavelle

  Editor: Leah Wohl-Pollack

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Prologue

  In his lifetime he had taken pleasure in many things, but nothing was quite as intoxicating as the marriage of blood and lace, the merging of red and white. This moment would be one he cherished forever, the moment that signified his first step toward correcting the wrongs that had been done to him.

  He ached for more blood, and she had plenty of it. He slid the knife out of her body, plunged it back into her heart, and twisted the blade. It poured out of her as though from a hidden fountain within, soaking into the expensive fabric, staining what was once pure.

  Excitement hit him like a bolt of lightning. He shivered. This feeling was so much better than sex, drugs, or alcohol. They said revenge was sweet. The bastards were right.

  His eyes met hers and he grinned. Her tears drowned the shock and fear in her gaze.

  It pleased him that she was terrified of walking through death's door. Fear of the unknown was worse than pain itself.

  Tears trickled down the side of her face and dripped off the freshwater pearl in her earlobe. Her lips parted. She tried to talk, but blood gurgled inside her throat, preventing her from doing so.

  "What's that? I can't hear you." He wiped a tear off her smooth skin, offering her a little comfort before she tumbled into the depths of death. "Shhh," he said. "It will all be over soon. Hell will welcome you with open arms."

  Her body started to shake and her eyes widened, but there was no fight left in them. She was resigned to her fate. The moment he had been waiting many years for had come. Before his eyes, she went from a beautiful woman to a lifeless corpse...to nothing.

  He inhaled the last bit of air that had exited her lungs and sighed with satisfaction. Then he swiped a palm over her eyes, shutting them forever.

  His intention had been to punish her, to torture her until she begged him for forgiveness, but he had been unable to wait any longer. In the end, she died a beautiful death.

  That was fine by him. Death was death. And she'd deserved to die.

  Chapter One

  I took a long sip of my champagne, the semi-sweet liquid prickling on the tip of my tongue before it trickled down my throat.

  The Sage May issue we had all been waiting for had become a reality. My magazine had pulled it off yet again, unveiling a scandal that would have people talking for weeks to come.

  Dane Mullin, a real estate mogul and media personality, had turned out to be a monster with a double life. We went to great lengths to blow the cover on his secret life in Mexico, where he had raped and impregnated an underage girl during a luxury holiday and was involved in a human trafficking scandal. In the end, he was caught with his pants down—literally.

  Now, as Sage employees celebrated his humiliation and our success, Dane Mullin’s face was on the cover of every copy. I had already gotten word that the magazines were flying off the shelves in every store in Boca Raton and around the country, and the phones were ringing off the hook as more and more advertisers tossed money our way.

  Sage started off as a small online fashion and lifestyle magazine. I started it not long after I graduated with my Bachelor of Arts in Journalism and Media Studies—earned on a full scholarship from the University of South Florida—while working for a small magazine to help pay the rent.

  Although I’d had a number of dedicated subscribers, I soon learned that safe topics only gave me a safe earning potential. I wanted to make the kind of money that would allow me to live the glamorous life I had always dreamed of.

  With that knowledge, and plenty of confidence in my skills and talents, I took out a loan and jumped into the dark waters of scandal.

  It paid off big time. The money flowed in, and I hired a staff of top-notch writers, editors, and photographers. My employees thought the way I did, and they didn’t shy away from uncomfortable topics. The dirtier the scandal, the better. Sage was ahead of its competition in exposing the most humiliating secrets of people in the public eye.

  Within seven years, circulation doubled, then tripled, making me a huge success at only thirty.

  Now, taking another sip of champagne, I put on a bright smile. I called for attention and all eyes turned to me. “You all did an amazing job with this issue. I couldn’t have asked for a better team. Thank you for putting Sage on the map.” I raised my glass. “To you all.”

  Andy, one of the photographers, shouted, “To Chloe Parker, the best boss anyone could have.”

  The room exploded with cheers and applause.

  ***

  Once the champagne bottles were empty and the finger foods had disappeared, everyone except me returned to their offices to work on the next hit story.

  After leaving the boardroom, I headed for the bathroom, careful not to trip in my six-inch Laurence Sabatini heels, focusing on taking one step at a time. It should have been my walk of success, the one I lived for after a major story hit the stands. I was well aware Sage was a weapon—one with the power to destroy lives. Our stories had led to countless arrests, broken marriages, and divided families.

  From the outside, I was a successful, ruthless businesswoman. But no one saw the marks each issue left on my heart. Later today I would probably spot my magazine on a newsstand and find it suddenly hard to breathe, even as I smiled, walking by as if I owned the world.

  I'd learned to tuck away my emotions and just chase the story. But when I was alone, a step back from my success, I allowed myself to feel small, to see the woman no one else saw. Not even Miles Durant, my fiancé.

  With each new story I feared I would be exposed for the person I was, that I would be stripped of everything I had worked so hard for. I pictured my own face on the cover of Sage, my dirty laundry hung out for the world to see. Everyone would discover what a hypocrite I was. Each moment of success could be my last.
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  I opted for the third cubicle in the bathroom, the one farthest from the door. It would afford me a few moments of privacy as my mind took me back to my hometown of Misty Cove, Florida, the small town I left behind to go to college. I never looked back. After graduation, I moved from town to town, looking for the perfect place for me. Boca Raton was it. A new place, a new name.

  I locked the door and leaned against it, eyes closed, heart thumping, sweat pooling on my forehead. I licked my dry lips, still tasting the expensive champagne.

  I sank down onto the closed toilet seat and gripped the hem of my vintage Chanel black knit skirt. My eyes felt hot and fear knotted my stomach.

  My phone vibrated inside my purse. I ignored it. It would be Miles congratulating me on yet another success, even though he’d made it clear he did not approve of what I did. He said the success of my magazine came at too high a cost.

  Six months ago, he’d brought up, yet again, the subject of me giving Sage a new purpose: publishing stories that didn’t ruin lives.

  “Why do you have to find success in someone else’s misfortune? Why publish dirt?”

  “I don’t understand why you keep bringing this up,” I’d lashed out. “I’ve worked damn hard to get to where I am. The dirt I publish… that’s my job, and I’m great at it.”

  “Only a heartless person could do what you do.” Anger blazed in his eyes, so hot I felt it.

  “If I’m so heartless, why are you with me? You knew what I did before we started dating.”

  That argument had been the worst in our six-month-old relationship. I thought at the time it would mean the end. But he’d surprised me by apologizing with a romantic dinner and a diamond ring. I had accepted his proposal and moved into his villa a month later, but I had never been able to forget the anger that had flared in his eyes. He was so passionate about stopping me, it had terrified me. That passion was what made me stand my ground. I loved him, but I wouldn’t give up my career for any man.

  In truth, as destructive as my job was, I didn’t know how to stop. If I knew how, I’d let go, do something that didn’t leave me feeling like crap at the end of the day. Chasing a good story was like a drug, a years-old addiction I had carried with me since high school when I was editor of the school paper.

  I had everything, but success wasn’t quite what it was cut out to be. At least it wasn’t how I had imagined it as a child. Maybe it would have been if I didn’t carry so many scars from the past.

  I blinked away the tears. “Pull yourself together,” I whispered, standing up on shaky legs. “This is what you wanted. This is your destiny.”

  In thirty days I'd have everything I’d dreamed of: a glamorous job, and a marriage to the perfect man. My place in the glittering world would be secure. I wouldn’t let the past get in the way of my fairytale. It had seemed crazy, agreeing to marry Miles after only six months of dating, but it had felt so right to me. He felt right. Miles had wanted to get married within weeks of proposing, but I had insisted that I needed time. I only planned to get married once, and I wanted to do it right. I would need time to plan the perfect wedding.

  Chapter Two

  “Chloe, wait!” Jolene Holyfield, my assistant, hurried toward me as I unlocked the door to my office. “Someone left this on my desk. It’s for you.” She smiled as I took what looked like a card and turned it over in my hand. “Maybe it's an RSVP for your wedding.”

  “Thanks, Jo. Maybe it is. See you at the meeting.” I opened the door and walked into my office, still gazing at the card. Only my name was typed on the ecru envelope. No address. Why would I be receiving an RSVP in the mail? Everyone was asked to RSVP online, or to send physical wedding-related mail to Silk & Petals, the wedding planning company we had hired to plan the festivities.

  My office, like the rest of the Sage offices, was decorated in pastel colors and swathed in lots of natural light. A vase of white roses stood on one corner of the smoky glass–topped desk. I crossed my legs under the table and moved my computer mouse so the screen came alive. A photo of me and Miles was splashed across the screen, taken inside the Stephansdom last month in Vienna, Austria.

  Work swallowed me immediately, and I forgot about the card. I returned a few emails—most from people congratulating me on the explosive issue—and returned calls. Later in the day I had a routine meeting with the team, and a successful lunch meeting with a big cosmetics firm.

  At six, I was ready to leave the office—unusual since I tended to be the last person to go home. But I had a wedding dress fitting to attend. The wedding boutique was a few blocks down the street, so I walked. Tina Daly, my wedding planner, was there waiting for me.

  The fitting didn't take long. My taffeta trumpet wedding gown, which had hand-beaded lace appliqués adorning the shoulder straps, fit as though it had melted onto my body.

  Afterward, Tina went through details with me at a nearby café, where I sipped fizzy water from a crystal glass. The alcohol from the office celebration was still in my system.

  “Do you know yet if your mom will be attending the wedding?”

  My stomach twisted. That was one question I wasn’t ready to answer yet. Honesty was the only way out. “I still don’t know. Can I get back to you on that in a few days?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Tina closed the silk-covered wedding folder. “I guess that’s it for today. Everything is going according to schedule. I’ve confirmed with all the vendors, and the wedding program is ready. It’s gorgeous. You’ll love it. I’ll send you a copy.” Tina’s hazel eyes sparkled, a perfect match for her personality.

  “Thanks so much, Tina. I’d appreciate that.”

  We parted outside, and Tina walked away with the folder under her arm and her auburn ponytail swinging like a schoolgirl’s.

  As I walked back to the office to get some paperwork I had forgotten, exhaustion pressed down on me. Even with a planner, wedding planning was stressful. Eloping would have been easier. But what was the fun in that? When I married the hottest bachelor in the country, I didn’t want the world to miss it. And one of my writers, Lauri Brandon, had already started writing our love story, which would be published in the July issue, supplemented with wedding photos. Some good news for a change.

  When I exited the office building again, a black stretch limousine was parked out front. I forgot about my meltdown in the bathroom earlier and smiled as Ed, Miles’s driver, beckoned me over.

  “Good evening, Miss Chloe. Mr. Durant instructed me to pick you up this evening.”

  “That’s lovely. Thanks, Ed.” He opened my door and I slid into the back seat. The paperwork could wait. This evening was for Miles and me.

  A bottle of champagne was chilling in a silver bucket, and a pair of classic fluffy white bunny slippers awaited me, a note tucked inside one of them.

  After a long day, I thought you might need these.

  Times like these often made me wonder what I did to deserve Miles. He was so thoughtful and loving—the most romantic man I had ever dated. He made sure to spoil me every chance he got. Although I was thrilled to be marrying a billionaire, I knew he’d be a keeper even without the money.

  I kicked off my heels as the driver pulled away from the curb and pushed my toes into the slippers, sighing with relief.

  The smile was still on my face when I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, imagining myself on my wedding day, admiring myself in the mirror before the ceremony, my shiny black hair glossy and beautiful. Happiness would banish the shadows of the past that lurked in my bright blue eyes the moment before I walked into my own personal fairytale.

  ***

  I found Miles in the kitchen, cooking dinner. We had a chef, but Miles loved to cook. It helped him relax. Whenever he was able to get away from his stressful tech company, he switched off his phones and stepped into the kitchen. That suited me fine, because I wasn’t much of a chef. In fact, I hated cooking.

  “How's my gorgeous fiancée doing?” He pulled me into the circle of his ar
ms, and I pressed myself against his tight chest, feeling his hard abs under his crisp white shirt. He wasn’t wearing an apron; how he managed to keep food from staining his shirt was beyond me.

  He tipped up my face and pressed his lips against mine, sliding his tongue into my mouth, forcing my lips open. A shiver of desire rippled through me as I stood on tiptoe. He ran his fingers down my back, chasing the tension of the day from my body. I let go, allowing myself to be seduced by the only man to ever give me an orgasm.

  Unable to stop myself from moving on to the next base, I raised my hands and buried them in his thick dark brown hair, my fingertips caressing his scalp. He lowered his hands to my butt and cupped me firmly, drawing me even closer, pressing my lower body against his rock-hard erection, awakening my senses.

  He pulled away and looked into my eyes, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Want to make this the first course?”

  “I do.” I giggled and rubbed myself against him.

  His lips touched mine again, hungry and fast. In a few ragged breaths, I was up on the marble kitchen island. His pants were down, my lace panties were on the floor, and he was buried deep inside me. I moaned and groaned into his shoulder and he grunted in response.

  It didn't take long before I came, as if he was all I had been waiting for all day. When we were done, my silk shirt clung to my body, and I was tingling between the legs, still feeling him inside me. It took a while for the pounding of my heart to quiet.

  He helped me down off the island and I straightened my clothes. He pulled up his pants, kissed me on the nose, and returned to the stove. “The second course will be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll go and change.” I turned and went up the sweeping staircase, walking down a long corridor to our bedroom. I undressed and took a quick shower in the master bath. Ten minutes later I was back downstairs, still wearing the slippers Miles had left me in the limousine. I was refreshed, satisfied, and happy. I pretended to be happy at my job, but with Miles, I never had to pretend. As long as he was around, I was okay. This part of my life was real.