Lace

  FIRST ORIGINAL EDITION, NOVEMBER 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Deborah Bladon

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person’s, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 9781726627788

  eBook ISBN: 9781926440538

  Book & cover design by Wolf & Eagle Media

  www.deborahbladon.com

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  THE OBSESSED SERIES

  THE EXPOSED SERIES

  THE PULSE SERIES

  THE VAIN SERIES

  THE RUIN SERIES

  IMPULSE

  SOLO

  THE GONE SERIES

  FUSE

  THE TRACE SERIES

  CHANCE

  THE EMBER SERIES

  THE RISE SERIES

  HAZE

  SHIVER

  TORN

  THE HEAT SERIES

  MELT

  THE TENSE DUET

  SWEAT

  TROUBLEMAKER

  WORTH

  HUSH

  BARE

  WISH

  SIN

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Preview of THIRST

  Preview of VERSUS

  Thank you

  Deborah’s Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Olivia

  “I need you to tell me who these panties belong to.”

  I turn at the sound of the masculine voice. It’s not that it’s a rarity here. It’s a lingerie boutique, so we have our share of male clientele, but this voice is different.

  It’s edged with a roughness that speaks of confidence and control.

  “You want me to what?” Liza, the newly hired sales associate, asks.

  “You heard me.” The man barks back, an added note of irritation in his tone. “I need to know who bought this pair of panties because she’s a goddamn thief.”

  I move across the boutique, my nude heels clicking a quick beat on the hardwood floors.

  I stop when I catch sight of the back of the man attached to the voice.

  He’s tall. I’d guess around six-foot-two. His shoulders are broad, his brown hair long enough to skim the collar of the white dress shirt he’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal muscular forearms that pop in and out of view when he moves his arms.

  I should visit this store more often. Working from the corporate offices of Liore Lingerie isn’t nearly as exciting as this.

  “Can I help you, sir?” I call out from behind him, running a hand over my long dark hair. “I’m Olivia Hull. I’m the District Operations Manager of Liore Lingerie.”

  He turns.

  Holy hell.

  It’s as if a sculptor created the perfect man and dropped him in front of me.

  Impeccable bone structure, a strong jaw, a sharp nose and the pièce de résistance; two of the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Are you in charge?” He looks me over.

  I do the same to him, stopping to linger at the barest hint of smooth skin beneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “If there’s a problem, I can help.”

  A ball of black lace falls from his hand onto the checkout counter. “Give me the name of the woman who bought these.”

  I move around the counter until I’m facing him directly. I glance down at the lace. “We sell hundreds of pairs of panties every day, sir.”

  He shoves the lace closer to me. “I don’t care how many you sell. I only care about who you sold this pair to.”

  I grab a silver pen from the top of the counter and tug on the edge of the lace. “This is one of our most popular styles of panties. We have several stores here in Manhattan. It’s impossible to pinpoint who these belong to.”

  “You must have records.” He points at the computer sitting atop the counter. “She told me they were brand new. Key in the code or whatever it is you do when you sell a pair and print me out the names of the women who have bought them in the last few days. She’s about your height, blonde, with brown eyes.”

  Liza moves toward the computer, but I stop her with a hand on her wrist. “We value the privacy of each of our customers. We would never compromise that for any reason, sir.”

  “Your customer,” he drags the last word across his tongue with disdain. “Your customer took a very valuable item from my apartment last night after I fell asleep. She was in such a rush to steal my property that she forgot those in my bed.”

  “Why don’t you just ask her to give it back?” Liza laughs. “Call her up and tell her that you’ll exchange the panties for whatever it is she took.”

  Oh, poor naïve Liza.

  “I take it that you don’t know her name?” I cross my arms over my chest. The motion stretches the fabric of my black sheath dress taut across my breasts.

  His eyes drop to my arms. “That’s correct.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t help you.” I slide the panties back across the counter with a push of the pen. “I’d suggest that you return to wherever it was that you met her. With any luck, you’ll cross paths with her again.”

  “That’s your advice?” He points at the windows that overlook Fifth Avenue. “Millions of women live in this city. How am I going to find her?”

  I narrow my blue eyes and study him. “I don’t have a clue.”

  “You need to do better than that.” His expression turns smug, which only makes him that much sexier. “You need to get on that computer and find out who she is.”

  “It’s not my job to track down your one-night stand, sir.”

  He rests both of his palms on the counter and leans closer to me. “I’m going to take this above your head.”

  “You’re more than welcome to do that.” I smile sweetly. “I should warn you that our entire management team are committed to our customers and the security of their personal information.”

  “Your customer stole an autographed Trey Hale jersey from me last night.” He scoops the panties back into his hand and shoves them into the front pocket of his black pants. “In case you don’t know who that is, Trey Hale is a professional baseball player. He’s the best pitcher in the league. He won the World Series last year.”

  I know exactly who Trey Hale is, but I won’t tell
this arrogant jerk that.

  “Your superiors will be hearing about this, Ms. Hull,” he calls over his shoulder as he starts toward the exit. “That jersey was meant to be a gift for my nephew’s tenth birthday and your refusal to cooperate with me is the reason he’ll be disappointed.”

  I sigh. Why the hell did the beautiful bastard have to tell me that?

  “How is it our fault that his random one-night stand lifted that jersey?” Liza asks as she sprays disinfectant on the top of the counter. “He shouldn’t take strangers home with him.”

  I don’t weigh in on that since I’ve been guilty of inviting a one-night stand back to my place. Luckily for me, that guy didn’t help himself to anything but a bowl of cereal the next morning.

  “Did he mention his name to you at all?” I question her as I watch her swirl the disinfectant in a circle with a paper towel, her red hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Did he tell it to you before I came over?”

  She looks at me. “No. I would have remembered if he did.”

  I could forget he ever walked in here, and I would if it weren’t for the mention of his nephew. I can replace that jersey within the hour. All I need to do is give my cousin, Trey, a call and I’ll have an autographed jersey, baseball and two tickets to a game in my hand in the time it takes me to get to his apartment.

  “I should have asked for his name,” I say, picking up a stack of gift cards to place on a display near the entrance.

  “That slice of heaven was Alexander Donato.” A woman approaches the checkout counter with several pieces of lingerie in her hands. “I know exactly where you can find him, or at least a picture of him. His handsome face is on a billboard in the middle of Times Square.”

  Chapter 2

  Olivia

  “I can run down to Times Square and find the billboard,” Liza says, as soon as the customer is headed toward the boutique’s doors with her purchases neatly folded in tissue paper inside two peach colored Liore bags. “He must be famous. Why else would he be on a billboard?”

  I’m surprised she kept it together as long as she did. After the customer mentioned Alexander Donato’s name and the billboard in Times Square, Liza wanted more details.

  I changed the subject.

  The woman had traveled to New York City from Texas for her birthday. The lingerie was a gift she was giving to herself. I wanted her visit to the boutique to be extra special, so I offered a birthday discount on her entire purchase.

  I used my employee code and took over the checkout process myself.

  My goal was for the woman to walk out with a memory of a shopping experience that far surpassed her expectations. When our boutique in Dallas opens next year, my hope is that she’ll become a regular customer who sings our praises to anyone who will listen.

  I tug my phone out of the pocket of my dress. “Steph mentioned that a shipment of silk pajamas just arrived. They need to be unpacked and steamed. You can handle that, right?”

  When I worked at this boutique as a sales associate, Steph did the same. She’s worked her way up to the manager’s position and she loves it. She’s doing a great job, considering Liza is a handful of misplaced energy.

  “I want to know more about Alexander.” She bats her long eyelashes and flips her hair over her shoulder. “He’s insanely hot and I could feel something happening between us.”

  I skim my fingers over my phone’s screen. I’m silent while I scan the results of a quick search of the jerk that Liza is swooning over.

  I can’t blame her. There was something alluring about him.

  Apparently, a lot of women feel the same way I do based on the size of his official online fan club.

  I click on his personal website.

  “He was born here in New York City thirty-five-years ago,” I say as I read the bio page.

  “Yum.” Liza bumps her shoulder against mine. “That makes him twelve years older than me.”

  And eight years older than me.

  “I have a thing for older guys.” She giggles. “They’re wise and they make the best lovers.”

  I wouldn’t know. I once dated a guy who was three years older than me and the sex wasn’t spectacular. That’s the biggest age gap I’ve ever experienced. “Wisdom doesn’t always come with age, Liza.”

  She nods. “You’re right. The last guy I slept with was thirty-six. He wasn’t a genius, but he did know what he was doing in bed.”

  I look down at my phone. “He’s a conductor. It says that he’s won prestigious awards and has studied with some of the best classical musicians in the world. He’s guest conducting the Philharmonic starting next month.”

  “Alexander is a conductor?” She fans herself. “I could tell he was sophisticated. He had that air about him. You know what I mean, Olivia. Don’t you?”

  All I know is that he was stuck-up and smug. He’s good-looking, but that doesn’t make up for being demanding and unreasonable.

  Still, a part of me feels a pull to do the right thing and call my cousin, Trey.

  Alexander’s nephew shouldn’t miss out on his birthday gift because his uncle took a thief to bed.

  “I know that your boss is looking over here and wondering what you’re doing.” I wave a hand in the air at Steph.

  Liza glances over her shoulder and tosses Steph a wave herself. “As soon as my shift is over, I’m going to Times Square to see that billboard and then I’m going to buy a ticket to the Philharmonic.”

  I’m going home and since my apartment isn’t anywhere near Times Square, I won’t be subjected to a larger than life size image of Alexander Donato.

  I’ve seen enough of that man for one day.

  ***

  “So, hypothetically speaking…”

  “Olivia, every time you start a sentence with that, you’re about to ask a question about yourself. “ Kate Wesley, my friend and neighbor, interrupts me. Smiling, she tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Cut the bullshit, and get to the point.”

  I pull my legs up and curl them under me.

  We’re sitting on my couch watching our favorite show on Netflix. It may be Friday night, but neither of us had plans, so when Kate caught sight of me sliding my key into the lock on my apartment door, she opened her door and asked if I was up for movie night.

  We live directly across the hall from one another and ever since I moved in eight months ago, Kate has become a good friend to me.

  What started as a bad habit of us spying on each other through the peepholes in our doors has turned into a sister-like bond.

  “I already know what you’re going to tell me to do, Kate.”

  “The right thing?” She arches a brow. “I always tell you to do the right thing.”

  She does. Kate is my go-to if I ever need advice about anything.

  I tug on the end of her blonde braid. That draws her gaze back to me from the television set. “What is it, Liv?”

  I see the concern in her hazel eyes. Kate isn’t just one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. She’s also the kindest.

  “It’s not anything serious,” I reassure her with a weak smile. “I was doing some work at one of the boutiques today and a man came in with a pair of panties that a woman had left at his place.”

  She crosses her legs, angling them toward me. She’s dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized red sweatshirt that’s the same hue as the T-shirt I have on. We both opted for comfortable tonight.

  “I’m dying to find out what part of this you need advice on.” She laughs. “Unless you know the guy with the panties. He wasn’t an ex of yours, was he?”

  I shake my head. “Hell, no.”

  “So what happened?” She blinks.” What did he want?”

  “The names of all the women who have bought a pair of black panties from Liore in the last few days.”

  Her hand darts into the air. “I bought a pair from the Charming Collection at the boutique in Tribeca last Monday.”

  Smiling, I narro
w my eyes at her. “You didn’t hook up with a man last night and steal his autographed Trey Hale baseball jersey, did you?”

  “I wish.” She shoots me a look. “I wish I had hooked up with a man and I don’t need to steal a Hale jersey. If I want one, all I have to do is ask you to get one from your cousin for me.”

  I glance at the television. “The autographed jersey was for the guy’s nephew. It was going to be a gift for his tenth birthday, but his one-night stand took off with it and left behind her panties.”

  “I get it,” she says with a jerk of her chin. “You’re wondering if you should call Trey and ask for a new jersey for the nephew’s birthday. Is that it?”

  “I don’t know this man.” I sigh and lean my head back on my plush vintage blue velvet couch. “He was so arrogant and rude. He threatened to go over my head at work because I wouldn’t help him track down his one-night stand. Part of me is wondering why I’m even considering doing him a favor.”

  She taps my knee to get me to look at her. I do.

  “The other part of you is thinking about how that boy will feel when he opens his birthday gift and finds an autographed Hale jersey.” She turns back to face the television. “You’re not doing Mr. Arrogant a favor. You’re making a ten-year-old crazy happy on his birthday.”

  She’s right. I’ll find a way to get a new jersey to Alexander Donato. He never has to know that it came from me.

  Chapter 3

  Alexander

  “When’s Monte due back in New York?”

  My sister, Phoebe Costa, rolls her eyes. “Why do you insist on asking that question every time I invite you over for dinner?”

  I push the empty plate in front of me to the side. “Why do you insist on avoiding the question?”

  She’s twenty-eight-years-old, a mom, and a third-grade teacher, but my sister still knows exactly how to annoy the hell out of me. Her tried-and-true approach of answering a question with a question irritates me, which is why she’s become an expert at it.