Secrets and Lace: A Dark Romance Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 1)
Read Secrets and Lace: A Dark Romance Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Dori Lavelle
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.
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.”
