Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1) (2 page)

“Not bad, just ridiculously mind-numbing. I don’t know
how people do this day in day out” I
say
and
take
the
drink
from him
, “I spent almost five hours filing today – the most
dangerous thing to happen was almost getting a
 
paper cut!”

“Well not
everyone
can live thrilling lives like us” he
laughs
and
takes
a sip of his
drink.

Alek
is
my
roommate
who
grew up alongside me
and my family
,
and the only non-relative that
know
s
my
entire history
. Where I
followed
my parents footsteps,
he ventured in a slightly
different direction with computers
,
programming,
and hacking systems
-
doing a
pretty
good job of it too
. We make the perfect team.

He’s easy on the eyes with that playful puppy dog
charm, but we thought of each other as family from the day we met. He has one
of those smiles that make you want to smile, and a loud booming laugh that
echoes through the house when he’s watching stand-up comedians. That’s his
thing. He’s this carefree, young at heart, and hard to annoy type of person
that has everyone gravitate towards him.

We
sit
in comfortable silence while I flick through the channels, before finally
settling on re-runs of
some crime show.

“
Hey
could you do me a favour
and
dig
up some info on someone?”

“Who would this someone be?” he
asks
curiously.

“I dunno, that’s why I’m asking you genius” I
answer with a grin
as
I reach
for
my bag.

I rummage around for
Carter
’s
wallet and finally
find
it
near the bottom, pull it out
,
and
hold
it
out
to Alek.
He
opens
it up and
inspects
the drivers
license
, then
eyes
me suspiciously.
I simply shrug at him and
return
my gaze back to the TV,
drinking the rest of my drink in one go.

“Holy shit
he
has a black visa
-
where
the fuck did you find this guy?”
he
asks
enthusiastically and
gets
up, heading for his computer
in the study.
Black Visa – wow, Carter really
must be rich then.

We converted the study into
Alek’s
little private sanctuary
with
three
different computer screens
and god knows what other equipment.
There
is so much stuff in this room that I’d literally be here for hours trying to
name it all.

He
starts
pulling
up random tabs on one screen and
typing
energetically before glancing at the drivers
license
a few times to get
Carter
’s details.
A few images start popping
up accompanied by brief articles – ‘CEO and New York Bachelor rise to success’,
‘
Monroe
takes over company after
sudden death of father’
,
and a few articles about him at various events with different women.

Alek slides his chair over slightly to start typing on
the next computer screen, pulling up what looks like a New York police
department system.
While
Alek
continues
his search I lean
down a little and scroll through what he found on the first computer screen.

I briefly skim read the first few articles
until
Alek finally breaks the
silence
,
“So
…
what’s it say?”

I start to read main bits of information to Alek, “
U
mm…
wow,
he’s the CEO and owner of
Monroe
Enterprises where I work –
so he’s like my boss’s boss or something. His dad started the company and died
about
a
year
ago,
doesn’t give much detail on
that other than
Carter
taking over. He’s single and apparently a highly known bachelor around New
York.”

“I’ve never heard of him” Alek interrupts me
,
and I
can’t help but
roll my eyes at him
as I keep talking,

“He’s always with a different woman at every event he’s
spotted at.”

I don’t know why my voice came out a little whiney
when I said that. What’s with me?
Alek swivels around
in his chair to fully face me and just stares, then grins widely
like the answer is written across my face.

“What?” I ask and look back at the computer screen,
clicking through a few photos. There’s a few of him from charity events looking
ridiculously stunning in a tux, arm wrapped around a beautiful women in a tight
fitting
black
dress. He looks slightly
bored
while
she looks up at him
greedily
.

“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 ask
s
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 spot
s
me, salute
s
me
with his coffee cup and grin
s
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 secretly dating?”

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

Thursday I r
un
into him on a few various occasions
–
on
c
e
when I’m
in the photocopier room
just as the printer jam
s
.
He
comes
in and offer
s
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 ha
s
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 ha
s
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 start
s
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
look
ing
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 let
s
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.