by Sierra Rose
The Construction Worker & the Billionaire:
Swapping Lives
Book 10
Sierra Rose
Copyright 2017 Sierra Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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 1
Stupid! So stupid! How could I have possibly been so fucking stupid?!
Lacy raced down the stairs, shot through the parlor, and burst out into the open air. Air that was a good deal warmer than the freezing house she’d just left. The sun beat down upon her as she pulled in silent, gasping breaths—trembling head to toe upon the sidewalk.
It took everything she had in her not to turn around. Not to pick up a handful of rocks and start pelting them at the windows. With her luck, she’d hit the blonde bimbo inside and get sued.
‘Oh—I was just fucking the man you were falling in love with, when this giant rock hit me right in the implant. You’ll have to pay for me to go up a cup size. Have to keep Dylan happy...’
Just thinking the name sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through her, and Lacy actually stomped her foot on the pavement, letting out a little shriek of rage.
Dylan Stone? Am I actually surprised? Did I actually expect anything different from Dylan fucking Stone?! How could I ever get involved with a playboy like that? That wasn’t my style. I didn’t date playboys. Because no woman can ever tame them! What was I thinking?
Lacy remembered the first time the name had ever crossed her radar. She’d gotten to the office early that morning, hoping to get in a few workable hours before she was due in court. It was a rare part of her job, but there were times (usually in divorce proceedings) when she was called in to testify. The coffee was brewing, her statement was ready, and she was just settling in to do some basic recon when the door flew open and a manic-looking woman stormed inside.
“Are you Lacy Larson?!” she demanded, brushing away the furious tears that were streaming down her face. “Is this your company?”
Lacy stood up slowly, giving the woman a careful once-over at the same time. She had learned long ago not to give out her name to strangers. When you made a career out of exposing infidelity, it meant that while one person would owe you for life—the other would hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. After the first two times her car had gotten egged by an angry ex-husband or disgruntled mistress, she’d stopped admitting to the name Lacy.
“Is there something I can help you with?” She averted the question by asking one of her own. In her experience, clients fell into two categories. The victims, and the vengeful. This woman looked to be a little bit of both. “Would you like to sit down?”
Instead of answering, the woman threw a photograph on Lacy’s desk. A grainy, black and white image that looked like it had been clumsily downloaded off a cell phone.
“Have you ever seen this man before?”
First rule of private investigation: Deny, deny, deny!
“I don’t think so.” Lacy squinted down at picture, trying to make it out. “It’s a little bit hard to tell.” She set it down and looked at the woman instead. “Why? Who is he?”
“He’s cheating on me!”
Okay, definitely the victim. But definitely vengeful at the same time.
Lacy nodded slowly, deliberately calming the pace of the conversation as she sank back into her chair. A second later, she gestured to the one on the other side of the desk.
“That has to feel terrible,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Her sincerity caught the woman off guard, and before she knew what was happening, she was sinking down into the chair. Her purse was set on the floor. Lacy handed her a tissue.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” she said calmly. “Tell me what happened.”
What proceeded was one of the most convoluted tales Lacy had ever heard. Filled to the brim with so many twists and turns and misdirection, that before long, she was actually scribbling down notes just to keep everything straight.
The short version was that the woman had been having an affair with a mouthwatering construction worker—Dylan Stone. They’d been going at it for a few months, when she ran into Dylan with another woman at a club downtown. After following them home, it became clear where the night was going. She panicked, snapped a picture on her phone, and drove straight to Lacy’s office after looking up female private investigators online.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t her own infidelity that was the problem. It wasn’t the fact that she was cheating on her husband with a man who was single, attractive, and had made no commitments to her either way. It was the fact that her lover was seeing other people.
To be honest, Lacy didn’t even know if that counted as cheating.
“We usually deal with people in committed relationships,” Lacy said.
“I’m loaded, lady. I will pay you triple! So what do you say?” The woman sniffed loudly, clutching the tissue to her face. “Will you help me? Will you catch him in the act?”
That was the first time Dylan’s face had come across Lacy’s desk. Over the next few months, it became a little game. An office joke. Who was Dylan Stone sleeping with this week? It got to the point where they could virtually throw a dart at the Cleveland phone book and end up hitting one of his conquests. The man knew no limits. There was no end to the insatiable hunger. The women Dylan slept with came from every end of the social spectrum. House wives, to bartenders, to heads of industry. Once or twice, he’d managed to ‘date’ every sister in the same family.
And yet...they could never manage to catch him in the act.
It wasn’t that he was particularly good at hiding—and Lord knows the man wasn’t discreet. It was like he was charmed or something. Whenever they showed up at his house, he wasn’t there. Whenever they went to his various hotel rooms, he and the woman would have just checked out. Whenever they tried to follow his car, he inexplicably decided to call a cab or walk.
His picture quickly earned a spot in their private breakroom. Bigger than the rest of their adulterous suspects. Public enemy number one. The client paid the big bucks and they were
determined to help her. Quin fell in love—fantasized about him at her desk and secretly prayed they’d never catch him. Sarah Green, Lacy’s business partner, started making Moby Dick comparisons—Captain Ahab hunting the mythological white whale. It didn’t matter what they called him—he always managed to escape in the nick of time.
Of course, they’d come close. Incredibly close. Lacy remembered one particular time when she and Sarah had been hiding in the bushes outside his house. Two cameras clutched at the ready. A pile of empty coffee cups littering the ground at their feet.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Sarah muttered, shifting uncomfortably as her designer heels sank further into the mud. “Tell me again why I let you drag me into this?”
Lacy’s eyes never left the window. They’d heard the water running in the shower, but that was off now. He should be coming down any minute. Ready for his next engagement.
“Oh, I dragged you, did I?” she asked caustically. “It wasn’t that you begged me to come along in the hopes of seeing him in person. And the hopes of getting away from Quin. And this client is paying our damn rent this month.”
Sarah flashed a guilty grin and peered once more into the living room.
It was true. Quin had been getting especially unbearable lately. Ever since Sarah had made the fateful comment that Dylan would sleep with anyone who had breasts, the neurotic secretary suddenly felt as though she had a shot. She’d started wearing shorter skirts. Painting her nails a host of bizarre colors. Even teasing the ends of her hair. (Yes, she thought that was a good idea.) All in the hopes of running into him some night in one of the downtown clubs.
“You had to open your big mouth...” Lacy muttered, shaking her head. “It was bad enough when I caught her photocopying pictures from his file.”
Sarah laughed softly, then fell instantly quiet when they heard a creak from the second story. He was up there alright. Just biding his time.
“It’s not my fault the girl’s deranged—you’re the one who hired her,” she whispered, tossing a handful of leaves at Lacy with a teasing grin. “And I highly doubt the worst thing she’s done with those pictures is photocopy them.”
“Oh gosh—like I need that image in my head!”
Before they could say another word, there was a sudden commotion from inside. The sound of claws scurrying down the stairs. The sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Both girls stretched up to peer beneath the curtains, then jumped back when a giant dog leapt into view.
“Shit!” Sarah gasped, scampering back into the bushes. “You said he had a dog, not a leviathan! We need to get the hell out of here—”
“Relax,” Lacy reached into her purse, keeping her eyes on the dog all the while, “I’ve been here before, remember. Some of us embrace both field work, and the desk.”
With a sweet smile, she extracted a handful of little dog treats and held them up to the pane of glass, waving them gently back and forth. The dog stopped barking at once and followed every movement like a hawk, openly salivating on Dylan’s couch.
“That’s it, that’s a good boy...” she cooed. “Come here. Just a little closer.”
Sarah peered nervously over her shoulder, squinting up into the light just to see the top of the dog’s head. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
“Only a boy would be so easily controlled with the promise of food,” Lacy answered automatically. Without breaking eye contact for an instant, she reached into her purse again and pulled out something slightly more ominous than a handful of dog treats. She pulled out a knife.
“Whoa—crazy!” Sarah’s mouth fell open, as she looked between her friend and the blade. “What the hell are you going to do?! Kill it?!”
Lacy pursed her lips with a bemused grin.
“Seriously, Em—I say this as a friend: you need to stop watching so much late-night television. It’s starting to change you.”
“I’m not the one who just pulled a shiv on a dog!”
“I am not going to shiv—” Lacy cut off suddenly as there was another creak from the floor above them. For a moment, both girls just stared—cameras at the ready. Then she picked back up again in a whisper. “I am not going to shiv the dog. I’m going to shiv the window.”
Before Sarah could stop her, she stretched up her arm and stabbed the knife into the screen—pulling it in and out until there was a little hole in the corner. The second she could stick her fingers through, she reached up again and slipped the treats inside.
“There you go, boy. Enjoy.”
The entire house shook as the dog launched itself at the window—gobbling up the treats with a bark of delight. When he was finished, he barked again. Lacy gave him another handful.
“Now go,” she said authoritatively, snapping her fingers and pointing to the back of the house. “Be a good boy—and go.”
For a second, the dog just looked at her. Cocking his head to the side as she stared evenly back through the screen. Then, with another happy yip, he took off for the backyard.
Lacy dusted off her hands and turned back to her friend with a triumphant grin, only to see Sarah staring back at her with a scarcely contained smile.
“What?” Lacy said defensively. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Sarah shook back her long hair, doing her very best not to laugh. “Why is it that you talk to all men the same way? You know what? That sounded like your last dinner date.”
“It did not!”
“There, I’ve fed you—now go,” Sarah raised her voice in a high-pitched imitation. “Be a good boy, and go.”
Lacy elbowed her in the ribs.
“That is not what I sound like!”
“But it is what you say.” Sarah’s eyes glowed with triumph. “Admit it.”
Lacy jutted up her chin, defiantly refusing to meet her friend’s eyes.
“...sometimes.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows doubtfully, and she gave in with a scowl.
“Fine. Most of the time. But what am I supposed to do?” she fired back. “Some of us actually go into work early the next morning. We don’t saunter in sometime after twelve.”
“One time!” Sarah shrieked. “That was one time! I swear, you’re never going to let me live that down—”
There was a sudden noise on the other side of the window, and both women fell dead quiet—crouching down amongst the bushes, hands clutched around their cameras. For a second, they stayed there. Quieting their nerves. Waiting for their heartrates to return to normal. Then, without a word, they both stretched up to peer inside the house at the same time.
This time, their patience had been rewarded. Dylan Stone was in the building.
Chapter 2
“Damn, he’s even hotter in person,” Sarah breathed, staring with wide eyes. “I can totally see why the wife is cheating.” Lacy shot her a look. “What? Just voicing my opinion...”
She trailed off again as Dylan circled back into the living room, looking like something out of Greek mythology. There was a towel wrapped around his waist from the shower, but he was by no means dry. In fact, his entire body was glistening with moisture and steam.
For a second, the two of them just stared. They might despise everything the man stood for, but they were still women, after all. And they still had eyes.
Then Lacy cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to be professional. “Well...that’ll make for some great pictures to nail his ass.”
Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away. In fact, she hadn’t been able to blink since Dylan walked downstairs for the first time. “Oh my gosh—Lacy, that’s so weird. I was just thinking about nailing his ass too!”
This time, Lacy didn’t even bother with the look. She just stifled a long-suffering sigh, and crouched further down in the bushes. Camera at the ready.
Every Thursday, Dylan met with one of his mistresses here at the house. Every single Thursday without fail. It was why he’d taken a shower. It was why she was kneeling down in the dirt—her purse full of dog treats.
But as prepared as she might have been, she’d neglected to take into consideration the giant elephant in the room. (And no, it wasn’t the dog.) Dylan was charmed. It didn’t matter what she did to catch him, something always went wrong. Today would prove to be no exception.
Just as she was raising the camera to her eyes, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He reached down to grab it, shaking his damp hair out of his eyes, sending Sarah into a mild fit.
“Hey! Are you on your way over...” He paused as a shrill voice echoed out in the living room. A slight crease furrowed across his brow, as he glanced at the clock, before putting his hand on his hips—standing in an unintentional pose that made Sarah swoon. “Oh—that’s no problem. I’ve actually got to work, so later won’t work either. But we can try next week.”
The hair on the back of Lacy’s neck stood up in a rage, as she clutched the camera strap in her fist. Seriously? She was here in the bushes on the one Thursday they weren’t hooking up?
Inside the living room, Dylan was nodding once more, in a sudden hurry to get off the phone. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll see you later.”
He hung up before she could stop him, running a hand back through his wet hair. For a second, an almost wistful look drifted across his face. Then, without a care in the world, he started scrolling through his contact list—looking for another person to help him pass the time.
It was a bitter defeat that Lacy had never quite gotten over. A cosmic injustice she was still smarting from, months later. And things even got weirder. The woman, her client, who was sleeping with Dylan, was actually married to a rich business tycoon. No wonder she had so much cash to throw around. The three of them all met at the office when all hell broke loose. The husband was crazy jealous. Lacy never expected that little twist. He swore revenge on Dylan.
Needless to say, the day that she’d burst in on Dylan at home, accompanied by yet another seething husband, was supposed to be her great triumph. The day that her client’s husband finally caught the infamous Dylan Stone to bring him to justice once and for all.