Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1) Read online

  “Why the interest in Monroe?”

  “He was just overly friendly in that I’ve-got-lots-of-money and I-can-get-into-any-girls-panties kind of way” I say and shrug, trying to sound unfazed by the tiny tid-bits of information we’re finding out about Carter.

  “Oh really? What… was he throwing dollar bills at you?” Alek asks and starts laughing loudly as I smack his arm. He thinks he’s a lot funnier than he actually is which is kind of adorable.

  “No, you could just tell he was rich by his impressive suit, probably cost more than our weekly wage.”

  Alek just stares at me and raises an eyebrow questioningly, “Bunny, we don’t have a weekly wage and who cares if he has money, it’s not like we’re lacking any.”

  “Oh you know what I mean. Anyway what else did you find?” I ask motioning to his computer screen with my hand, trying to change the subject. I don’t particularly want to be picturing Carter in his suit, because then I’ll start picturing him out of his suit and nothing on. Talk about brain over load, am I right?

  “Umm..” he says, tapping his chin and scrolling through some random information. “He’s been pulled over a couple times for speeding, had some small issues with lawyers in regards to his father’s death but a part from that he’s clean. He grew up in New York with his dad and now he’s pretty much alone.”

  “Wow that’s kind of depressing.”

  “We all have depressing histories it seems” Alek says and looks back to my screen where the photos are still up. “Seems like an alright looking guy, is that why you’re so fascinated?”

  “I’m not fascinated…I just wanted to do a bit of research on some guy that hit on me in an elevator. Okay, I agree…a very good-looking guy” I amend and laugh a little.

  “Just remember why you’re doing this Kayla, don’t get too distracted, okay?” he warns me.

  Chapter 2

  Carter

  This high rise building in the middle of New York City, the put-together appearance I’m currently emanating with slicked back hair and a stunning suit? None of this is me. For starters, I’m more comfortable kicking back in a pair of chucks than these designer shoes, or my hair a mess like I’ve just gotten out of bed – which it ends up looking like by the end of the day anyway.

  When my dad died I think I tried to become something he’d be proud of, continuing in his footsteps and looking after this company. I guess I hoped that having so much responsibility and so many people depending on me it would keep my mind occupied. I tried the whole drowning my sorrows with alcohol, until I was in a permanent state of hung-over. I slept with countless women looking for one to appreciate me for who I am and take my mind off of everything, but in the end all they wanted was the money I’d inherited.

  The only reason I’m sticking around is because I know my dad’s death wasn’t an accident like the paper claims. I’m trying to wrap my head around everything – murder, this company, even maybe loneliness. I’m surrounded by hundreds of people in this building on a daily basis, yet I still feel misunderstood, alone. The only person I can depend on these days is my best mate Jimmy, who is a whirl wind of troublesome fun.

  Abram Mikhalov is probably the biggest problem I have right now though, but that’s a whole other story that I don’t even want to think about right now.

  I hate that my stupid picture is all over the internet too, because now when I meet people it’s always the same – You’re that guy who just inherited the Monroe company right? Oh wow, so you must be like, really rich then?

  I think that’s what intrigued me about Kayla. Either she has no idea who I am, or she doesn’t care in the slightest. The moment I realised she’d taken my wallet straight out of my back pocket, was the moment I knew there was something about this girl that I wouldn’t be able to get out of my mind. Could she be someone I can bare my soul to? God that sounds stupid even to me.

  Surprisingly I wasn’t even mad about her taking my wallet. I think I was more interested to see what she’d actually do with it. So yeah I started talking to her because she had a nice set of tits and a great ass, sue me. I’d seen her over the past week working far longer than any general assistant I’ve seen the entire time I’ve been in charge here - so yeah, it peaked my curiosity.

  The whole weekend I spent checking my bank account every half hour to see if there’d been any excessive purchases, but to my surprising disappointment there was nothing. Why I was disappointed I have no fucking idea – believe me I’ve asked myself a thousand times what I was even expecting. Why didn’t I report it? Why didn’t I call HR and fire her perfect peach ass for theft? I got no clue.

  Her dark eyes held this mischievous glint that had me wanting to know all her dark, dirty secrets, and maybe it would occupy my mind trying to figure them out. Even her smirk had this playful little devious spark behind it that made her eyes shine – almost like she knew something you didn’t. But then again what would I know; I didn’t know a thing about her.

  First thing this morning when I sat down at my desk, Emy my receptionist knocked on my door and handed me my wallet. She said it was handed in to the front desk this morning after being found in the elevator, which left me with my mouth wide open. Even as she left in confused silence and shut the door behind her, I still didn’t know what to think.

  Did Kayla actually take my wallet, or did I imagine the whole thing? Whether she did or didn’t I was still left fascinated with her for some strange reason. Obviously she’d pulled a fast one on me and actually got away with whatever it is that she wanted to achieve.

  Why did she take the wallet? Who is she? And what the hell is she doing working here of all places?

  Chapter 3

  Kayla

  For the majority of the following week I can’t seem to keep my mind off Carter, which is quite annoying considering I barely spoke ten sentences to the guy. I can’t seem to stop my thoughts from drifting to him sitting alone in his apartment without any parents, or any siblings. Then I’d start picturing him with all those different gorgeous women he seems to be pictured with and feel stupid for even giving him a seconds worth of sympathy for being alone - because he most certainly is not.

  Tuesday is the first day I run into him. I head up to one of the top floors to drop off some files to management, and the overly friendly and incredibly beautiful receptionist ushers me inside while chatting on her earpiece. I automatically like her as soon as she offers me a handful of skittles from a bowl on her desk.

  At first I panic thinking I’m heading up to Mikhalov’s office, but find myself surprised to see Carter sitting behind the big, lavish desk instead. He’s momentarily shocked to see me (I’m equally surprised as he is) before he notices all the files in my hands and again asks me out for a drink.

  “So you never answered my question about joining me for a drink?” he smirks.

  I panic, practically dumping all the files on his desk, and high tail it out of there after giving him a brisk and quick no. I hear his soft laughter fill the room behind me as I shuffle my way out in a hurry.

  After that I seem to always bump into him around the office. Wednesday he’s sitting in the cafeteria reading a newspaper, which is apparently very unlike him, or so the chatty intern, Sarah, tells me anyway after gushing about how good-looking he is - his smile, his eyes, his muscly body. I don’t need another reminder so I grab the first thing in front of me, and make my way over to an empty table.

  He spots me, salutes me with his coffee cup and grins widely before returning his gaze back to his newspaper.

  “Wow, he never smiles” Sarah says as she slides in next to me. I find that hard to believe considering I’ve been graced with a smile and a laugh every time I’ve seen him. I could literally get his full life story from her without even asking, she’s like a gossip magazine crammed up into a petite frame, with blonde locks and killer legs – quite the chatter box.

  “Oh my god, I can’t believe he smiled and waved at you. Do you know him? Are you guys s
ecretly dating?”

  I busy myself with my sandwich so I don’t have to answer the million questions she’s firing at me.

  Thursday I run into him on a few various occasions – once when I’m in the photocopier room just as the printer jams. He comes in and offers to help fix it so I stand there silently watching him work, entire time trying to hold in my laughter. He looks so lost, and not about the printer. I mean deep down inside on a more personal level, but then again what would I know.

  He takes off his dark grey suit jacket and hangs it on the back of a spare chair, then rolls his sleeves up and starts fiddling with the printer. I watch fascinated as his forearms tighten with each movement and he runs his hand through his hair in annoyance. That’s when I notice the few tattoos peeking out from under his shirt on one forearm and around his neck, and it makes me ridiculously curious as to how proper and clean cut he really actually is. What kind of man in a suit, that’s running a billion dollar company, has so many tattoos?

  After about five minutes he gives up and grins at me sheepishly before admitting he has no idea what he’s doing - “Sorry Kayla, I gotta admit I haven’t worked in many offices before…Never really came across printer problems, you know? I’m probably making myself look like a chump.”

  I reach over and open a compartment in the printer and pull out the paper that jammed it, and then shut it back up. I push the crinkled piece of paper against his chest gently and say, “Nice try, Carter”, leaving him standing there with a huge grin on his face as I walk away. There he goes, grinning at me again. One of those genuine smiles that are so wide they crinkle the corners of his eyes.

  Later in the day I have to take minutes for a meeting and he’s there for that too, watching me almost the entire time. He might think he’s been sly but I catch every movement and every time his eyes roam my way (only because I’m probably staring at him just as much). I’m not being myself to be honest, so fascinated with him - watching him cross his arms in front of him, run his hand across his stubbled chin, scroll through his phone, and picking up on small details about him.

  He has a deep green colour to his eyes and dark wild hair, and a soft warm colour to his skin which gets a slight flush to his cheeks when he catches me looking at him. It’s like high school or something – it’s crazy how giddy one stupid look from him is making me feel.

  At lunch he actually starts a conversation with me while I wait to pay for my food in the cafeteria, commenting on the lack of choices, and then again asking me to join him for something to eat after work. I laugh, because I can’t help it. Never has anyone tried this hard and sucked so badly at asking someone out, or trying to get them around for a quick screw - either way you can tell he’s not someone that usually has to try hard to get things he wants.

  All I can do is brush him off yet again because I know deep down I need to get my head back in the game, back into planning an action - maybe if I said yes and had a stupid drink with him he’d finally leave me alone. It’s probably just because I said no in the first place that he’s even trying, probably a man that doesn’t hear the word no often.

  By the end of the day I’m exhausted – who would have thought working behind a computer all day would be so demanding. I pack up my desk, and turn off my computer after doing actual work since I spent my morning studying the layout of the building, trying to form a plan or scope any ways around all the stupid security. His house might be easier to get around than this fortress, maybe because everyone feels safer at home.

  I make my way downstairs and groan when I see how heavy the rain is just outside the lobby. Ugh why didn’t I drive? I step out through the doors and quickly try to hail a cab, instantly feeling the rain start seeping through my thin sweater.

  I hold my bag over my head to stop myself from looking like a drowned rat, but there’s honestly just no point. Just as I’m about to turn back around and rush back inside, a black sleek looking Maserati pulls up beside the curb in front of me (only one guess who it could be). The window rolls down smoothly and Carter grins at me from the driver’s seat, looking dry and comfortable - “Need a lift?”

  My hands drop down to my sides still clutching my bag, and I seem to be slightly speechless, standing in the rain getting drenched further. All I can do is stare.

  “You do realise it’s raining pretty fucking hard, right Kayla?” he smirks slightly, small dimple in his cheek. Dammit I’m a sucker for dimples - why cruel world are you tempting me so much? And did he just drop the f-bomb on me?

  I take one quick look back towards the lobby contemplating running back inside, but then decide against my better judgement and jump into the passenger seat of his car with a wet squeak against the leather seat. He gives me a quick look, eyeing my wet clothes and what no doubt looks like a birds nest on my head, so I quickly untie my loose knot and let my dark hair fall down with a wet flop.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a hair dryer in this fancy car of yours would you?” I don’t know why I hate that he has money, because in all honesty I have lots of money too – it shouldn’t be something that puts me off other people. It’s mainly just because about 99% of people I meet with money are the type of people that think they’re better than everyone because of it, so I guess I’m quick to judge – which is ridiculous, because I have money. Does it make me better than anyone with less? Heck no it doesn't.

  He lets out a low chuckle and pulls away from the curb, merging with the rest of the traffic smoothly.

  “My dad never needed a hair dryer…so no, I doubt there is one.”

  “Sorry? Why would your dad need a hair dryer?” I ask, slightly confused and unsure what to say since I know his dad is no longer around - but I don’t know what to say without sounding like I’ve stalked him.

  “This was his car” he answers simply, and I watch him clench his fingers around the steering wheel a tiny bit harder. My mouth gets the better of me and I ask, “Was?”

  He nods before answering, “He’s…no longer around.”

  “Sorry to hear that” I say with understanding, as I place my hand on his shoulder gently. He gives me a soft smile in response.

  He changes the subject quickly though, “Okay, I know I’ve asked a thousand times but it’s too tempting…Please just have one lousy drink with me?” he asks and gives me a ridiculously adorable pleading look. I’m momentarily struck silent at his persuasive puppy dog eyes, everyone must usually be a sucker for these because goddamn they’re convincing.

  “If I agree will you finally leave me alone?” I smirk.

  “We’ll see” he says, returning my smile.

  As we drive for a few minutes in silence, I run my fingers through my hair to try and tame the mess - noticing his eyes fall on me too many times to call safe while driving.

  “You don’t like hearing the word no, do you?” I finally ask him as I rake my fingers through the wet knots.

  “I have to admit I don’t generally have to hound someone so much just for a drink” he chuckles and surprisingly the sound of his light laughter is kind of soothing to my usually chaotic thoughts.

  “Why, because everyone throws themselves at you for your money or good looks?’ I ask before I can stop myself. His grin grows even bigger before he finally answers in a fake shocked tone, “That’s not one of the reasons you said yes?”

  I shake my head but can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I watch him while he drives smoothly, changing gears when necessary, and keeping control of his sleek car. I wonder what kind of car he drives then if this one was his dad’s.

  I see we’re reaching speeds not necessarily safe enough for the busy roads of New York as he weaves his way between cars, but surprisingly I find myself feeling safe in his presence.

  “You enjoy a bit of adrenaline?” I ask, pointing towards the speedo.

  He smirks at me but slows down a little before he answers, “I guess I like the excitement yes.”

  This makes me like him that tiny bit more. I have t
o admit I love those moments when my heart races faster while I’m out sneaking around or out doing a job, so I can see why he would enjoy this tiny moment of exhilaration. He slows down further since I don’t say anything and says, “Sorry, old habits die hard” he grins.

  Old habits? Was he a race car driver or something?

  “That’s okay - I’m not staring at the speedo because I’m freaking out. In fact, I never pictured you as the little thrill seeker. You’re a little rebel, Carter” I tease, “Actually, I imagined you as the clean cut, always do what he’s told type of guy.”

  He laughs then - a deep, beautiful sounding laugh that makes me grin from ear to ear. I’m pretty pleased with myself considering everyone seems to think he never smiles or laughs.

  “If you thought I was the bad guy, would you have said yes sooner?”

  I’m a little surprised by his question but answer anyway.