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

by Dori Lavelle

  “Okay. Come down when you're ready.”

  “I will.” I stood and went up to my old room.

  At first I sat on the bed, gazing into space, trying not to think about anything for a few seconds. But the spinning thoughts refused to be stilled.

  I gave up attempting to calm down and switched on my laptop. Even though I was on leave, I still intended to fit in some work whenever I could. There were tasks only I took care of even when I was out of the office. I also liked to approve most article ideas my employees came up with—potential stories that could make headlines. But I found it hard to focus on work. All I could think about was my own sordid tale. If the press ever got hold of my story, they would have a field day.

  I did some breathing exercises while my computer warmed up, but the knot inside my stomach had no chance of unraveling. I did not even bother checking my emails. I went straight online and typed in “Stacy Prammer + Misty Cove.” I got nothing but a few social media accounts belonging to various people who shared the same name.

  Next, I typed in “designer Stacy Prammer.” Various links started popping up. Most of the information was about her business, but when I went to the company website, it stated the domain did not exist. The business must have dissolved after her death. I clicked on more links and got to see some of the wedding dresses Stacy had designed. They were pretty spectacular. She had always wanted to be a designer, and it hurt to know she was robbed of her dream so early—if she was really dead.

  I didn't find anything about her personal life and disappearance—or death—which was what interested me the most.

  Finally, I gave up and went to read my emails. Hopefully they would keep me busy until lunch.

  As I had suspected, I had hundreds of emails in my inbox, all vying for my attention. Some of them were from Tina, but most had to do with work. There was also one from Kirsten, and then a few others from names I didn’t recognize.

  I decided to open the personal ones first before getting bogged down by articles and deadlines. I responded to Tina immediately, and confirmed that my mom was coming to the wedding. Then I opened the email from Kirsten. It was a virtual card with a kitten singing, telling me to have a nice day. It managed to bring a tiny smile to my face.

  As soon as I closed her email, I noticed another one from an unknown address. I normally didn't click on emails from people I didn’t know, but I couldn’t help myself. It might contain one of the answers I was looking for.

  I regretted it immediately. Nausea slammed into me and I jumped up from my chair. I made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet.

  After sitting on the bathroom floor for a long time, shaking and feeling cold all over, I stood up again, but had to hold on to any solid surface to help me move myself forward. I dreaded returning to my computer, but I had to see the email again. This time I read the message that had accompanied the single photo. One line.

  Is this what you were looking for?

  My heart thudded as I scrolled down and looked at the photo again. A woman in a wedding dress, the lace and tulle spread out around her like white foam. It would have been a beautiful wedding photo, if it weren't for the blood that stained the white, or for the smudged makeup, the tangled hair, and the garter belt around her neck. Her dead eyes stared back at me as though they could see me.

  For the first time, my stalker was communicating with me directly. He was everywhere, watching me, taunting me. He could be outside the window right now. I held back a scream as I went to shut the window.

  Miles was right: I was in danger. But I couldn't ask anybody for help.

  Chapter Twenty

  After the proposal, many women dream of the perfect bachelorette party, followed by the perfect wedding and honeymoon. I was no exception.

  The night after Miles had asked me to marry him, I'd fallen asleep dreaming of being surrounded by my friends, bubbling with joy as I showed off my ring, reveling in the attention poured upon a bride-to-be. I never thought I'd end up feeling the way I did right now, inside the beautiful Lakeside Terrace Boca Raton, but wishing I could be someplace else.

  Everything was gorgeous, just as I would have liked it to be. The round tables were covered with luxury damask covers and adorned with fragile white roses, my favorite flowers. The food and champagne were exquisite. But as breathtaking as everything was, I no longer felt excitement at the thought of my upcoming nuptials. What if the happiest day of my life ended up being my worst nightmare? What if I ended up dying in my wedding dress just as Stacy had? The thought made my insides quiver.

  My eyes darted to the ladies on the dance floor. I had been among them a minute ago—I had to pretend I was having a good time—but I'd just returned to the table.

  Dancing with the people I called my friends, most of whom were work colleagues, I couldn't help wondering if one of them was the enemy. At this point, everyone was a suspect in my eyes. Anyone who had ever come into contact with me was my potential stalker or an accomplice. I lived in fear each day, afraid my stalker would show up any moment and catch me by surprise. After seeing the brutal photo of Stacy, I lived in constant fear that I might soon come face-to-face with my enemy.

  “Chloe Parker. It's been so long. I haven't seen you at Freyt in a while.” Lindsay, someone I knew from the gym, approached my table and pulled out a chair.

  “So nice to see you, Lindsay. Thanks for being here.” If I had planned my own party, I probably wouldn’t have invited her. I felt similarly about a few other people who were present. In the two years we'd known each other, we'd never even shared a drink outside of the gym juice bar. In the past year, since I met Miles, we'd hardly seen each other at all.

  This was Kirsten’s doing—she confessed she had snuck my phone out of my bag a few weeks ago and invited most of my female contacts to the bachelorette party.

  Lindsay reached for a champagne glass that wasn't hers and downed it, then she started fanning her face with her hand, a huge smile pasted on her face. It didn't look real. When I looked at her, all I saw was envy. She wanted what I had, or was about to have, anyway. I kind of felt sorry for her. She'd never been lucky at love. The road she'd traveled was strewn with bad relationships and two broken marriages, and she was only thirty-five.

  Lindsay was one of the most gorgeous women I had ever met, with a pixie haircut that complimented her heart-shaped face, and huge green eyes. But she often complained that men were only interested in sleeping with her.

  “I wouldn't miss it for the world. With a man like Miles in your life, I knew any party of yours would be spectacular.” She flashed another fake smile. “So, how does it feel to be getting married to one of the richest men in the country?”

  I shifted in my chair. A few days ago her words would have had a different effect. In just a few days I had transformed into someone else. Back then, I would have beamed at the mere thought of getting married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, but right now, Miles’s persona and wealth meant nothing to me.

  When you're faced with a life-or-death situation, priorities change. Right now I didn't care about the billions attached to Miles’s name, the expensive rock on my finger, the wedding everyone was waiting for, the exotic honeymoon he was planning for us. I only wanted him. I wanted to be his wife. I would choose him even without all the money. I wouldn't even mind if we lived in a two- or three-bedroom apartment, as long as I had my man. I wanted freedom from fear, and time to enjoy my life with Miles.

  “The money isn’t important. I love him. That's all that matters.”

  “Love is dead, my friend.” Lindsay reached for another half-empty glass of champagne and drained it, too. “Trust me. Take the money and run.”

  “I see.” I pushed back my chair and stood, smoothing down my Dolce & Gabbana black-and-red lace cocktail dress. “Please excuse me. I need to discuss something with Kirsten. I'll see you at the gym soon.”

  “Since I'm not invited to your wedding,” she said, raising her
voice so she could be heard over the rock ’n’ roll song that had just started playing, “I wish you loads of happiness. Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones.” She raised her glass to me. I nodded and walked away, weaving around some of the guests who were leaving the dance floor to return to their tables for more champagne.

  They beamed at me, and some asked to see the ring again. I played along. I did the right things and said the words they wanted to hear, and then I continued looking for Kirsten.

  I found her sitting at the bar, talking to one of the bartenders, a man who had doubled as a stripper not long ago. She wore a simple black dress, and her fiery hair was wrapped in a beautiful chignon. Unlike most of the women in the room, she and I weren't skin and bones. Even though we went to the gym and lived healthy lifestyles, we didn't live on salad, water, and wine. Over the years, after trying every diet in the book in an attempt to lose weight, I had found peace with the fact that I was not meant to be stick-thin, and reached a size that I felt was perfect for me. I was not thin, but I was slim and toned, and Miles found that sexy.

  I reached the bar and Kirsten got up to kiss me on both cheeks. She gave me a real hug, too. No brief touches or air kisses.

  “Hey sweetie, I hope you're having a good time.”

  “I am. You did an amazing job. I never thought you’d organize something for a hundred guests. You didn't have to put yourself through all the stress.”

  “Anything for you.” We both sat down on the barstools, facing each other. “I never forgot what you did for me, you know. I owe you so much.”

  Three years ago, Kirsten was stuck in a difficult situation. Her beauty spa, Elements, had been burned to the ground and the insurance company refused to pay out, since one of her employees had been responsible for causing the fire. Kirsten was devastated to lose the business that had been her life. We had been friends for less than a year at the time, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had done nothing. I gave her the money to rebuild her dream, expecting no repayment.

  “I can't believe you still bring that up. You don't owe me anything.” Even though I wasn't a billionaire like Miles, Sage had given me quite a nice cushion, one I could lean on comfortably for years.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to call you my friend.”

  “I'm the lucky one.” I asked the bartender for a glass of water.

  Kirsten touched my hand and her face grew serious. “Are you sure you're all right? I kind of got the feeling during dinner that you were distracted. Are the wedding plans getting to you?”

  I reached for my water and took a sip while I contemplated what to say. “I'm okay. I've just had so many things going on at work... and my mom being sick, and yes, the wedding has added to the stress as well. It is fun stress, though.”

  “If I were you, I'd have eloped. What matters most are the vows you'll be making to each other.”

  “I agree. But we can't let everyone down. Three hundred people have committed to coming. And most of the guests are Miles’s business partners.”

  “Who cares? I bet most people would think it's romantic.” She shrugged. “But I guess if you eloped I wouldn’t have the chance to strut my stuff down the aisle as your maid of honor.”

  I smiled, but my mind was far away. What Kirsten had just said gave me an idea. After a few seconds I managed to let go of my thoughts and refocused on our conversation.

  “I'm so sorry about your mom, honey. I don't even know what to say.”

  “Thanks. I still can’t believe she only has a couple of months left to live.” My heart sank at the thought of Mom all alone in Misty Cove. “Miles and I put off our honeymoon for six months. After the wedding I'm going home to take care of her, since she refuses to come here, except to see a specialist. Miles had to talk her into that one. She insists she wants to die in her own home.”

  “I think that's a great idea… her coming here, I mean, even for a short while. I can't wait to meet her at the wedding.”

  I nodded. Kirsten was a great friend. After talking to her for a few more minutes, I could breathe a little easier.

  ***

  On my way home in one of Miles’s limousines, my thoughts returned to my conversation with Kirsten. Maybe eloping was the solution I needed to get control over my life again. I never wanted anything to come between me and my marriage to Miles. But of course, there were many reasons why we couldn't do it. It wouldn't hurt to bring it up to Miles, though, just to see what he thought.

  When I arrived, Miles thanked the driver for bringing me home safely and they said their goodbyes. I was in the bedroom changing when he walked in, a strange expression on his face.

  I went to him and kissed him. He kissed me with a hunger I had rarely seen in him before, and then, without even waiting for us to reach the bed, he pushed me hard against the bedroom door, so hard my breath hitched inside my throat. I was turned on, but surprised.

  He was like someone else, even being a little rough. He yanked my bra off and pushed my panties down. Then he turned me around so I was facing the door, my cheek pressed against the wood. Then his finger was inside me, digging deep, building pleasure while he pressed his lips to the back of my neck.

  I moaned as desire flooded my every pore. Then, just as I was on the verge of coming, he pulled out. I didn't turn as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. When he pushed into me, the movement was so intense and rushed, my cheek slid up and down the door. He thickened inside of me. Trying to accommodate him brought both pleasure and pain. He drove into me even harder, groaning with each push, as though he was in pain. Then he let out a tortured, animalistic grunt and exploded inside me. I was about to follow suit, but he slid out at the last second.

  “What was that all about?” I walked to the bed and sat down, my cheeks burning. “That was a little unfair, don’t you think?” He’d always waited for me to come—always.

  He zipped up his pants without meeting my eyes. “Chloe, in case you haven't noticed, the past few days have been hard for me. I hate thinking I'm sharing you with someone else, and I don't know how to stop it. I guess I just needed to let some of the frustration out. I'm sorry, if I was too rough.” He came over to the bed and kissed the side of my neck.

  “What are you talking about? Who are you sharing me with?”

  “Your stalker. He's taking you away from me.”

  I recalled the look in his eyes when he came to see me in Misty Cove. It confirmed his jealousy. Fucking me like that was his way of trying to claim me, of reminding me that I was his and only his. I blinked. “What stalker? I didn’t get any more cards, remember?” Another lie—the cards had not stopped. “No one is stalking me anymore. Let’s move on.” I placed my hands together, a begging gesture. “Maybe we need to get away from it all. Let's go away somewhere, just for a day or two. Let's do something crazy. I was thinking… maybe we should elope.”

  “Elope? Chloe, we can’t do that. What about all the people we invited to the wedding?”

  “We can still have a party, except it will be an after party. I can't wait to be your wife, Miles. The sooner, the better.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He grinned. “All right, baby. Let’s do it. Give me a day or two to plan it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Good morning, Miss Parker. Would you like a glass of champagne as you look around?” The owner of the Lily Boutique gave me one of her brightest smiles while several of her employees paced around the store, trying desperately to catch my eye. As soon as I had entered, and they had recognized me, they stumbled over each other to get to me. The manager, of course, made it clear to them in no words at all that she was in charge of assisting me. She wanted me to spend a lot of money, and she was in luck. I intended to do just that.

  “I’d like that, thank you, Liz.”

  Just because Miles and I would be eloping didn't mean I couldn't look fabulous. As we exchanged vows, I would not be wearing m
y designer princess gown; I would feel too overdressed with just the two of us. To satisfy the anticipation of all the guests who had been invited to our wedding, I decided I would wear the wedding gown at the after party. For now, I would buy something equally stunning but with less material. Something that would blow Miles away.

  I had no idea where we would be eloping, because Miles wanted to take care of all the logistics. I had the feeling it would be on a secluded beach somewhere romantic. It was just what I needed, to get away from it all. Keeping our secret between us—and the pilot who would be flying the jet—would ensure nobody tried to talk us out of our plans. And sharing a secret made me feel closer to Miles. I would be in heaven if it weren't for the stalker ruining everything.

  It had taken me a whole thirty minutes this morning before I gathered up the courage to leave the house and come to town without the driver. I had plans I didn't want Miles to know about.

  After trying on at least seven dresses and guzzling three glasses of champagne for courage, I opted for a strapless cream and white tea-length dress that felt right. It cost more than I had planned to spend, but it was worth it. To complete the look, and to Liz’s delight, I also bought a pair of silk-covered peep-toe heels that cost a fortune.

  When I walked out of the boutique, my eyes scanned the street for my dark shadow. I almost ran the short distance from the door of the boutique to the cab that waited for me. I gave the cab driver an address.

  The office building I was looking for turned out to be a house on the beach instead—a villa, actually. Feeling as though I were in the wrong place, I rang the bell and a man in his early-fifties opened the door. He was short, pot-bellied, and balding, with a fringe of white hair and a ruddy complexion. He wore slacks with a loose black shirt. When he smiled, a dimple fluttered in his left cheek.