Secrets and Lace: A Dark Romance Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 1) (3 page)

By the time I put on my shoes and picked up my clutch purse, Miles was already out the door.

The drive to the Boca Raton Resort & Club was quiet as Miles read through emails and talked on the phone, all the while holding my hand. When we arrived, he kissed me on the lips and told me I was beautiful. My earlier annoyance dissipated as we stepped out of the car.

At least three hundred people were present at the AIDS Gala. Owen Firmin, Miles’s best friend and former business partner, was among the people in the room.

Both Owen and Miles had studied computer science and mathematics at the University of Florida, but they ended up developing Torp Mobile, a popular social app that made them both wealthy. They had gone on to grow what later became the company Torp Inc., a corporation that earned Miles—its president—the title of top businessman several years in a row, according to Forbes magazine. The company had created several more apps since then, as well as other products. Miles was an amazing success and he wasn’t even thirty-five.

Owen, who was a year older than Miles, had fallen by the wayside. The money had gone to his head. He was a party animal, not a businessman. Soon after I started dating Miles, Owen—whom I had disliked from the get-go—had been voted out by the other board members. Now he was free to do whatever he liked—which meant throwing money around, partying, and breaking hearts. He’d already had his story in an issue of
Sage
. Miles had been pissed, but I told him it was a business decision, and Owen was the kind of guy our readers wanted to read about.

Owen was a jerk, though. The last time I saw him, he’d come over to our house for dinner, and when Miles left the room, he tried to flirt with me. I was furious and threatened to tell Miles, but Miles was protective of Owen. And frankly, I didn't want to be the one to come between them. The one thing that still infuriated me was his insistence on showing me that he didn’t think I was the right woman for Miles.

“Chloe, you look amazing, as usual. It’s great to see you.” Owen kissed me on both cheeks and I fought the urge to push him away.

He wasn’t wearing his usual flannel shirts and jeans. Instead he actually looked handsome, with his medium-length dark blond hair slicked back and none of the five o’clock shadow he was so fond of on his face. His bright blue eyes sparkled from behind his glasses.

“Thank you, Owen.” I forced a smile and reached for a glass of champagne off a tray carried by one of the waitresses.

We were shown to a round table near the front of the ballroom. Somehow, despite there being five people at the table, I was seated next to Owen. As the night wore on, I did my best to ignore him. Instead, I carried on conversations with Miles and some of the other guests at our table.

Speeches were made, and even Miles was called up to say something. He ended his speech with a heartwarming thanks to his fiancée for her endless support. He always did that—made sure everyone knew I was the lady by his side.

Dinner was served and I did my best to get through it with a smile on my face. Halfway through dessert, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. I had to get away for a bit. Sitting for two hours straight doing nothing was exhausting. I wanted to tell Miles we should call it a night, but he was having such a good time. I’d wait another half an hour.

I used the toilet and refreshed my makeup. When I put my lipstick back into my purse, my spine chilled. Another ecru envelope was tucked inside my purse, similar to the one I received yesterday. The one I had shredded. This one was folded in half so it would fit inside the clutch. My fingers trembled as I pulled it out. Even though no one else was in the restroom, I locked myself inside one of the cubicles and sat on top of the toilet seat. I ripped the envelope open, knowing exactly what I would find, but wanting to make sure.

The card was identical. But this time, it had the number 29 framed by a gold border instead of 30. As I had expected, a piece of lace was tucked inside the card, complete with the red stain. This was no longer something I could sweep under the rug.

I pushed it back into my purse, feeling suffocated. The card had not been inside my purse earlier. That meant one thing. The person sending me the cards was at the event.

Chapter Five

The next morning, I continued trying to convince myself that the cards were part of a prank. Maybe the red stain on the lace wasn’t even blood. It could be food coloring or paint.

My hopes crashed when, during my lunch break, I went to the ladies’ room and did a test with hydrogen peroxide. I’d bought a small bottle on my way to work. I poured it on the piece of lace and it foamed up. My online research claimed it would if the stain was blood. But was it human or animal blood? On second thought, why did that matter? Sending someone fabric stained with blood, human or animal, was disturbing.

My eyes watered as I watched the liquid bubble up on the fabric. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t tear my eyes away. Now that my suspicions were confirmed, what should I do? Could I tell Miles?

I’d tried to tell him last night, going as far as waking him up in the middle of the night, telling him I wanted to talk. But at the last minute the words froze inside my throat. I ended up telling him to go back to sleep, that I only wanted him to know I loved him.

If he suspected it was someone seeking revenge for an article published in
Sage
, we would end up in yet another argument over my job. I didn’t have the energy for that, and I didn’t want to make things complicated when we were about to get married. On our one-month dating anniversary, Miles had told me I was a breath of fresh air, that the women he’d dated before had been too complicated and had come with too much baggage for him to handle. During our year of dating, my job was the only thing we fought about. If I told him about my stalker now, I might also have to tell him about the skeletons in my closet. I had lied to him for a year, or at least withheld important information. And I had lied to myself, thinking I could lead a normal, worry-free life. I had reinvented myself, blended in with the crowd, and fooled people into thinking I had a squeaky-clean image. The cards I was receiving proved I had not run fast enough from my past. It would only be a matter of time before I came face-to-face with it.

In a moment of stupidity and denial, I tore up the card and flushed it down the toilet, along with the piece of lace. I was well aware of the fact that I was destroying potential evidence. I could’ve presented it to the cops. But cops were among the people I could not talk to about this. They would ask me who wanted to harm me, and they had the resources to dig into my past, to dig up skeletons I preferred to stay buried.

But keeping this information to myself was as damaging as letting it out. I needed to talk to somebody. Someone I could trust. The first person who came to mind was Kirsten Bannister. Since moving to Boca Raton, I had kept most people at a distance, never forming close relationships. If I wanted to keep my past out of sight, I couldn’t get too close to any one person. The more people I let in, the more ways I allowed myself to be exposed.

Apart from Miles, Kirsten was one of the people who managed to climb over the wall I had erected around myself, although she, too, didn’t know much about my past. I told her the same thing I had told Miles: I was born and raised in Misty Cove, Florida, but I had not gone back since I left for college. I
did
open up to them about my nonexistent relationship with my mom, but that was about it. I made sure they focused on the new me, and I brushed off as many questions about my past as possible. They thought they knew me, but they had no idea.

I first met Kirsten five years ago when I was out for a jog. We had bumped into each other several times, as we jogged the same route. We got to talking and met up for coffee, which led to many more. She was a good listener, and a good friend. The kind of person I needed right now.

***

“Are you okay?” Kirsten sipped her café au lait, her hazel eyes suspicious. “You seem preoccupied.” She stopped talking and waited for me to respond.

I was overwhelmed by the urge to back out at the last minute, to keep my troubles to myself. But bottling everything inside was unbearable.

“I think somebody’s stalking me.” I pinched my lips together.

The blood drained from Kirsten’s face. “What do you mean? What makes you think that?”

I drew in a long breath and told her about the last two days, the two cards.

Kirsten shook her head, her straight red hair swaying like a curtain. “Who would do such a thing?”

“I wish I knew.” My heart lightened. Sharing my predicament with somebody else helped a little, even though I couldn’t tell her about the possible connection to my past. I stirred my hot chocolate and licked the spoon. The sweet taste was soothing. As a child, Mom used to make me hot chocolate every time I was upset. That was before she withdrew from me. Before she became somebody else.

“I thought maybe it’s a prank.” I gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe the person will get bored soon and leave me alone.”

Kirsten drained her coffee and put the cup down. She leaned forward across the table. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice was a furious whisper. “This is not something that will blow over on its own.” Her words were firm, and her hair swayed with each word. “This is not a joke, Chloe. When a crazy person sends you blood through the mail, you call the cops. You take the evidence to the police; you don’t destroy it.”

I understood. If I had been somebody else, with a different life, the police station would have been my first port of call. I would’ve filed a complaint the instant I discovered it was blood on the lace.

My earlier relief dispersed when it dawned on me I had made a mistake by telling Kirsten. She was my friend. Of course she would be worried and urge me to go to the cops. And I had no way of explaining to her why I couldn’t go, not without her becoming suspicious, and asking questions I didn’t want to answer. “I think I should wait. It could be nothing. Given the nature of my job, I’m pretty sure things like this happen all the time. We don’t hear about it often, because stalked people might not always run to the cops.”

“But you still shouldn’t have destroyed the evidence, just in case.”

Kirsten was two years younger than me, but sometimes she acted like a big sister. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. I was just… scared. I thought if I destroyed it, it would go away.” I chewed the corner of my lip. “Do you really think the person is counting down to my wedding day?”

“It looks like it. I mean, what are the chances somebody would send you a card with the exact number of days before your wedding on it? I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Okay, I think I’ll wait and see what happens over the next few days. Then I’ll decide what to do. I promise not to destroy the cards. But maybe I won’t even get a card today.”

“I think that’s unlikely.” Kirsten pulled her purse into her lap and removed her wallet. “Someone who sends you blood is not only sick; they could be dangerous.” She inclined her head. “Do you think maybe someone wants to blackmail you? The whole town—heck, the whole country—knows you’re engaged to Miles Durant. Maybe they saw an opportunity to make money? Maybe you should tell Miles. He could pay them off so they leave you alone. The truth is, cops can be slow sometimes.”

I had not considered blackmail before. Up to this point, I’d thought the person was trying to scare me. I was almost relieved, but my thoughts reminded me that blackmailers often used a piece of nasty information they had on a target to get what they wanted. Blackmail or not, the end result would be the same. I couldn’t get Miles involved. And I couldn’t confide in Kirsten any further… at least, not about this. I was alone.

Chapter Six

When I arrived home in the evening, I found a note on the bed from Miles. He’d gone on a last-minute business trip to Miami. He didn’t say when he’d be returning, and his phone went straight to voicemail.

“Did Mr. Durant mention when he’ll be back?” I asked Mary, our housekeeper.

Mary looked up from polishing the silver and smiled, shaking her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Mary.” I went back to our bedroom and had a shower. The jet of hot water beating down on my head and shoulders did nothing to relax me.

My mind spun. Even though I kind of regretted opening up to Kirsten about the cards, it had still made me feel better to share the news with someone. During my drive home, after a lot of back-and-forth, I knew I had no choice but to tell Miles. I’d told Kirsten, and she was so worried about me. What if
she
told him? I’d asked her not to, but fear made people do things they didn’t plan on doing. I should know that.

If Miles found out I didn’t go to him first, he’d be hurt. So I’d tell him the exact same thing I told Kirsten; nothing more.

I stepped out of the shower and pressed a button at the corner of the LED wall mirror. The steam coating it melted off as if by magic, leaving it crystal clear.

For a long time I stood on the thick bathmat, naked, dripping, studying my slim but curvy body, my eyes, my hair.

For the first time since leaving Misty Cove thirteen years ago, I felt like that girl again. The girl I used to think was ugly, with the tasteless clothes and chubby cheeks. Now I had designer clothes, expensive makeup, and a great body, but my eyes... The fear that had clouded them through my first years of college and beyond had turned them from, golden honey to deep maple syrup. And there were dark bags under them now.

I raised my hand and placed it on my heart. It vibrated with each rapid beat. Vomit rushed up my throat and I ran to the toilet, making it just in time. Snot and tears mixed as I retched.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried. I’d come to be quite good at holding back the tears, even when hurting. So many things had happened in such a short time, things that had changed my life and scarred me forever. Things that had happened because of decisions I had made. Those dark memories I had tried so hard to ignore were rushing up, and they rendered me helpless to fight them.