Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1)

by Aneta Quinn

  Lace & Sin

  Aneta Quinn

  Copyright © 2016 Aneta Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  Prologue

  Kayla

  The New York Weekly

  The Misfit strikes again

  New York, November 2014 – Thieves in central New York have struck again, breaking into a secure downtown warehouse used for storing expensive artefacts, and heirlooms set for auction. Officials are still currently investigating and so far only one item has been reported stolen.

  The auction directors are refusing to divulge information on the item in question, or the details of how they actually came into possession of the artefact, with the total value still remaining undisclosed.

  The thief is now being dubbed as one of New York’s most notorious misfits by many newspapers and journalists, tying in with a string of other robberies with similar circumstances. Authorities are yet to comment on whether these recent crimes are related, or if there is more than one criminal out there on the streets of New York. Is there something officials are not disclosing?

  ***

  I don't even bother finishing the article, instead I fold the newspaper in half and slide it to the other side of the table. Notorious misfit, really?

  I shake my head and sip my coffee as I watch the black SUV pull up beside the curb. The sharply dressed man, with an earpiece and gun in his holster under his jacket hops out, and automatically pulls open the rear passenger door – right on time, just like every other day.

  I’m not stalking, I’m just merely observing.

  I didn’t grow up in the most functional and typical American family. I was born in Poland, where I lived up until the age of eleven, before moving to New York to live with my Uncle Johnny (I use the term Uncle but essentially he was my dad’s best friend).

  You see, my family isn’t what you’d call ordinary. I grew up learning the sleight of hand and the art of con, the tricks of a common pick pocket and mastering the art of thievery. The Deminski family was widely known across Europe, and I guess my parents had made an enemy of someone deceitful. Someone I was willing to spend my life searching for, and destroying once the time was right.

  My parents died when I was eleven, hence why I moved to New York. Uncle Johnny was one of the best though, and I guess after months of pleading he finally agreed to teach me everything he knew. He reminded me of my dad so much that sometimes it drove me nuts, but in the end he kind of became the father figure and mentor I needed. The person I found myself looking up to and truly grateful to have in my life. He was a brilliant man - smart, cunning, and one truly skilled with a set of knives, no matter how big or small. He liked cartoons just as much as any kid might, and he had a knack for fixing things no matter how damaged they might be.

  So upon moving to New York, I went from Krysia Deminski, to Kayla Remy. Remy was what my uncle was going by so I only got to choose a new first name. Apparently he chose Remy after some famous con-artist and thief from the French Revolution – at the age of eleven you hardly care where a surname comes from. After much debate with my uncle, I chose Kayla as my new identity. As an eleven year old I wanted to be named Bunny, after Bugs Bunny, and thinking back to that moment now as a mature adult, I realise it would have been a stupid idea – brilliant, but stupid.

  I watch the man exit the back of the SUV that I’m inconspicuously observing, and automatically glare at him. I guess it’s an instinct to let the hatred flow out of me for the man that murdered my parents.

  The job section of the newspaper lays spread open in front of me, and I grin as I take my bright red pen out. I pull the lid off with my teeth, and then circle the job in the left column an unnecessary amount of times with a smirk on my face. This will be my ticket into the building, and my opportunity to get closer to this man I hate so much.

  Chapter 1

  Kayla

  Stacking the folders on top of each other is the most tedious task I’ve ever been assigned. I finally get up off the floor and brush off any dust from my skirt.

  I’ve got to keep reminding myself that this shit is necessary for the plan to come together nicely. For now it’s just part of the first stages - getting in, mapping the best routes, knowing who was here, and who he kept by his side at all times; start planning a way to finally take him down.

  Abram Mikhalov, the man in question, is the current owner of this building I was forcing myself to work in - king in his mighty tower. He’s got the whole top floor to himself, for whatever unnecessary reason, because the building is essentially occupied by different businesses – like I said; he’s just the owner of the building. I’ve been looking at numerous ways to get closer to him and was lucky when I came across this job posted in the paper the other month. A few white lies on my resume and bam, here I was, filing documents like it was my god given gift to organise so well.

  After keeping an eye on him I noticed he arrives every day right on seven, but always leaves at different times. It makes it a tad hard to keep track of because there’s no pattern, no similarities on specific days. He lives in an obnoxiously giant mansion on the outskirt of town right on the edge of the hills, and has an intense security that’s going to be a pain to get through. Luckily I’m not one for running away from a challenge, because it’s all the more rewarding when you succeed.

  “Are you the new office assistant?” says a smooth, deep voice behind me. I’m surprised as I thought most people had already left for the night. What the hell is the time anyway?

  “Yes?” I answer and realise it sounds more like a question than an answer.

  I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my skirt as I turn around – hopefully plastering what looks like a casual smile on my face, and I find myself momentarily caught off guard. The man is casually leaning against the door frame watching me with a slight smirk on his face. He is, without a doubt, the sexiest man I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in the last few years. Hello handsome. Either I need to get out more, or there’s a lack of good looking men in New York.

  “You do realise it’s after seven right?” he asks as he crosses his arms in front of him and my traitorous eyes follow the small movement. God I need to get laid, or maybe it’s just ingrained in me to watch people and to observe their movements, especially knowing the things I get away with when people aren’t paying attention. It could be a slight movement with my left hand, whether brushing some hair behind my ear or touching my lip, and a quick sneaky manoeuvre with the right to get something without them realising.

  “Uh sorry…I must’ve lost track of time down here sorting these files” I lie, knowing full well I was waiting as late as possible until the offices were empty - so I could go snooping, of course.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kayla …with a K” I say automatically and stupidly since I’m pretty sure that’s the normal way to spell it anyway. A small smirk spreads across his face as he uncrosses his arms and extends his hand for me
to shake, “Well, Kayla with a K, I’m Carter.”

  I look from his deep green eyes down to his outreached hand, and warily shake his hand for a few seconds before releasing. His grasp wasn’t the lazy handshake I was expecting. It was firm and warm, yet strangely his calloused grip was soft. I take him in completely – sharp suit, dark hair that makes his eyes stand out like flashing neon signs, and slight stubble – which is surprising to see considering the rest of him looks so refined. Feeling slightly nervous I wipe my palms down my thighs again, before clenching and unclenching in fists quickly out of habit. He notices the small nervous movement, but doesn’t comment.

  “Well, Carter, this has been sufficiently pleasant but like you pointed out it’s after seven so…I guess I’ll be going.”

  He just nods at me and stands aside while I graciously walk passed him to collect my stuff. I see he’s watching me the entire time I walk back to my cubicle, and when I finally grab my stuff I see he’s still casually propped against the same door frame. His body is tall and lean, yet still defined and muscular. His hair a dishevelled mess that looks like his fingers roamed through frequently, instead of the slicked back hair I’d expect from someone in such an expensive suit.

  I shake my head, give him a curt smile, and head in the direction of the elevators. What the hell is wrong with me, and why was he staring? Do I have the word guilty tattooed across my forehead?

  I press the button to call the elevator, wait patiently for all of ten seconds, and then press the button a couple more times petulantly to hurry the damn thing up.

  After a minute I know he’s joined me in the lobby before he even speaks because I can smell him - not like a gross smell or anything, it’s actually kind of mouth-watering to be honest. There’s a mix of clean body wash, and his cologne that I smelt just a few minutes ago cramped in the tiny filing room with him. He clears his throat and steps up beside me, waiting for the elevator as well.

  “You know, I’ve never seen an office assistant so dedicated to work they get lost in filing.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No, just merely pointing out that your job must be very thrilling” he says deadpan and turns his face slightly as he grins down at me.

  “You do realise that if it weren’t for people like me your filing wouldn’t get done and this whole office would be in chaos.”

  His grin seems to only grow at my mocking tone and finally the elevator arrives on our floor, making a soft ding as the shiny doors open in front of us.

  He gestures for me to go ahead of him like a gentleman, so I step in and press the button for the ground floor. He takes a step in beside me and stands unexpectedly close to me, considering how much room there is in the elevator. I can feel how warm he is, and surprisingly I’m picturing myself untucking his shirt and ripping it open. I really hope it’s just his cologne messing with my head. Instead I opt to stare at the elevator doors, going through the different ways one can break in to a standard class 125 safe - just to keep my dirty thoughts at bay. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.

  “What do you say to a quick drink then to celebrate."

  "Celebrate?"

  "Celebrate your ability to keep the office chaos to a minimum?”

  Dammit he seems like a funny guy, as well as a good-looking one but looking at the way he’s dressed immaculately, I can tell he’s a wealthy one too. I can’t go there for so many reasons. Firstly, I’d just be dragging him into a whole world of trouble and sin, and secondly he’d just distract me from what I really need to keep a clear head about; so I opt for being a bitch instead.

  “You know, I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me yet again, or just flirting very unsuccessfully.”

  He runs his hand down his face trying to hold in a laugh no doubt, and as the elevator reaches the ground floor he extends his hand to press the car park floor button. I see his wallet peek out from his back pocket and I can’t resist the urge to take what isn’t mine; maybe just sheer curiosity - I swear I’ll give it back.

  “Night, Kayla.”

  I quickly duck out the elevator and give him a small smile in response as the doors slide shut behind me. I feel bad for judging him when we’ve only just met, but Carter certainly comes off as the fuck-them-and-leave-them kind of guy that’ll give you a great wild ride and never call you again. I consider for the briefest second of having a no-strings-attached kind of relationship with Carter, but in the end decide I really don’t need that sort of bullshit right now.

  I have to keep my head on the task ahead, right now especially because I’m so close - so close to the depths of Hell that I can hear the faint whispers from Satan himself; and by Hell I mean Abram’s office and therefore Abram himself. Lucifer would have been a much more fitting name for him.

  “Hey Bunny, you want a beer?” yells my roommate, Alek, from the kitchen as I close the door behind me. Yes…he calls me Bunny, because as a young kid himself upon my arrival he fully agreed with my decision to name myself Bunny. I think he was more devastated than I was when my uncle said no.

  “God yes, maybe even something stronger.”

  “Bad day huh?” he asks as he comes into the living room after a few minutes, holding two small glasses full of ice and vodka.

  “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 knows 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 f
ew articles until Alek finally breaks the silence, “So…what’s it say?”

  I start to read main bits of information to Alek, “Umm…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.