Exposed

by Deborah Bladon

  Exposed

  The Exposed Series, Volume 1

  Deborah Bladon

  Published by Deborah Bladon, 2014.

  Copyright

  First Original Edition, April 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Bladon

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.

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

  For the readers, both old and new.

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  Obsessed

  Obsessed: Part Two

  Obsessed: Part Three

  Table of 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

  Thank You

  Subscribe to Deborah’s Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  He wears the tuxedo with the uncomplicated grace of a man who is comfortable in a suit. I stare at him as I walk slowly down the staircase. He's talking to Maria, his hands waving through the air as the words pour from his moist, full lips. The lips that I imagine would glide across the most intimate parts of a woman and bring her pleasure that is difficult to match. They complement his vibrant blue eyes and rich black hair. He is striking. I stop to watch the way his broad shoulders dip as he leans in close to her. He knows how to use his body even if it is during something as seemingly insignificant as a conversation about the weather. He understands the impact he has on others. He owns it.

  "Ms. Lockwood." Maria rushes over as I put the last step behind me. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Reynolds forgot his overcoat."

  I smile at her and run my hand down her shoulder. "It's fine."

  "Thank you." She bows slightly and I instantly feel a pang of awkwardness. She works for my parents. I don't want her to think that she has to submit to me. "I'll finish cleaning up."

  "No." I point towards the kitchen. "You'll gather your things and you'll go home for the night."

  "You're sure?" she asks, her face brightening at the suggestion.

  "Go," I say insistently.

  "Thank you, Ma'am." A wide grin covers her face pulling on the wrinkles that are beginning to form around her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "You'll see me the day after tomorrow and it's Sadie." I correct her. "Take tomorrow to play with your grandson."

  "Thank you." She turns to leave but stops herself. "Have a nice evening, Mr. Reynolds," she says. I catch her expression and I swear she's swooning over him. I can't blame her. I did it earlier for hours from afar during the benefit dinner. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, even though he arrived on the arm of one of the most stunning and generous benefactors of my mother's charity.

  "It's been a pleasure and it's Hunter." He nods as she pads off down the hallway.

  "Your overcoat?" I question as I walk towards the coatroom. I wish I hadn't taken off my heels or pulled my hair into a ponytail. I had no idea he would be waltzing back into my life or my home mere moments after the party ended.

  "I don't normally do this." His voice resonates. It feels as though it rushes through me. The tone is deep. It pulls desire from within me with each syllable he speaks.

  "Forget your coat?" I stop in place holding the handle of the door in my grasp.

  "Pretend to forget my coat so I can seduce a beautiful woman," he says smoothly.

  I take in the words, repeating each in my mind. He didn't just say what I think he said, did he?

  "Excuse me?" My hand drops from the handle and bounces against the silk of my dress.

  "How old are you, Ms. Lockwood?" he asks assuredly.

  "I'm twenty-one." My face flushes.

  He's standing next to me now. There's energy moving between us. I can feel it and sense it. It's bouncing off my body, tearing my inhibitions away from me. "Old enough then." His lips brush against my ear.

  "Old enough?" I glide one small step to the left, just far enough that my ear is out of his reach. Keeping my composure when I can literally smell the scent of his skin and almost taste his lips is an impossible feat. I need distance and maybe another glass of the champagne I was drinking earlier.

  "I don't need to spell it out for you, do I?" he asks, amusement skirting the question.

  He's so confident it's maddening. He was much more attractive hours ago when he was just a man with a gorgeous face. My best friend, Alexa, and I had spent virtually the entire evening drooling over him from afar trading fantasies about what we'd do with him. "You don't and yes, I'm old enough." I pull a faint smile across my lips. "I'm old enough to realize that you're trying in some roundabout way to get me to sleep with you."

  He stands in silence, his eyes running from my face, down the black shift dress I'm wearing to my bare feet. I'm suddenly aware that I'm still sporting the same red, white and blue toe nail polish that I have been since the fourth of July, a week ago. I try in vain to curl the toes of my left foot under the right but it's not working.

  I'm startled when he abruptly jerks his head back in rolling laughter. His eyes squint as the enjoyment slides over his face. I feel a blush rush through me and I take a deep breath to try and curb it.

  "You're lovely, Sadie." The way he says my name is different. He pulls it across his tongue so that it lingers there just a touch longer than it should. "I was talking about a woman I saw at the benefit dinner. I was hoping you could tell me who she was and give me her number."

  "B...but you said I was old enough," I stutter. "So I thought you meant."

  "Old enough to understand discretion," he whispers as he places his index finger over his lips.

  I stare at it mortified that I'd made such a ridiculous assumption. What was I thinking? How could I have thought he wanted me? Look at him. The man can scoop up any woman he wants with a flash of that smile. Men like that want nothing to do with girls like me.

  "She was tall, blonde and she was wearing a stunning red dress." His words bite through me given the fact that I'm barely over five feet tall, brunette and my fashion choices are limited to whatever will fully cover the large scar that transverses my chest.

  "I'm not sure," I say softly now wishing that I would have asked Maria to stay. She would have been able to handle this conversation much better than me. My mother's maid had been a part of our family since before I was born and she knew everyone's business. She'd know exactly who Hunter was talking about and he'd be out the door by now.

  "You couldn't have missed her." A grin pops back up on his face. "She was the center of attention."

  The moment he says those words I'm immediately aware of the woman he's talking about. "That's Petra. Petra Monroe." Petra stole the audience in any room she walked in to. She was captivating and I wasn't surprised that she'd be the one he was fixated on.

  "Have you got a number for her?" he asks the question so easily.

  I'm more than slightly tempted to bring up the woman he arrived and left with but I don't know her name. Besides, what he does and who he chooses to do it with is none of my business. Although I have to admit I'm envious of a
ny woman who gets to do anything beyond talking with him. "I don't," I lie. "I'm sure her husband has it. You can ask him. He's Eric Monroe."

  "The senator?" he asks bluntly.

  "One in the same." I brush past him with the hope that he'll follow my lead. I reach to open the heavy oak door of my parent's townhouse. "If that was all, it's getting late."

  He glances at the silver wristwatch he's wearing. "The night is still young."

  I know it must be nearing three by now. "I have an early morning and I'd like to get to bed." I motion with my arm towards the street where a car is idling. "Your ride awaits."

  "What are you going to be doing so early on a Saturday?" He's standing in front of me now. His presence is imposing. It's not just his height, which is near six feet. It's the raw charisma that is oozing from him. I wonder briefly what it would feel like to just reach out and kiss him.

  I sigh heavily. "I have to be at work in a few hours."

  The corner of his brow cocks upwards. "You have a job?" he spits the question out. He clearly isn't trying to mask the surprise in it.

  "Yes and I'm very tired." I gently start to close the door but it resists once it hits his shoulder.

  "You're a Harvard student, aren't you? And your parents obviously aren't pinching pennies." The way he casually gestures around us irks me.

  "What does that mean?" I'm annoyed and I hope he can pick up the subtle clue I'm trying to hit him over the head with.

  "You don't have to work, do you?" It's obvious by the way he stresses the word 'have' that he thinks I'm a trust fund baby. I am but that's not his business and besides he can't be that much older than I am and that Rolex on his wrist suggests that his daddy is probably paying his way.

  I wrinkle my brow as I search for the right words to politely tell him to fuck off. My mother left me in charge of her charity dinner and if I piss off someone who might have written her a nice big check I'll never hear the end of it. "It's late and my work isn't really your concern." I know that sounds snappy but I'm too tired to care what he thinks.

  "Where do you work?" He stands his ground and I feel a slight chill course through me as the cool night air creeps through the open door.

  "At Star Bistro." I cringe when the words leap from my lips. Why am I telling him this? "I really need to get to sleep."

  "You're a barista?" he asks, looking baffled.

  "You say it like it's a bad thing." I'm losing my patience quickly. Maybe his date contributed to the charity and he was only arm candy. I pull my fingers to my lips to cover my smile at the thought of that.

  "Well...no...it's just that..." His voice trails. "It's just that I assumed..."

  "I'm going to bed." I push on the door with both hands now forcing him to step onto the porch. "Good luck with Petra."

  I hear him mumbling through the crack of the door as I slam it shut and lock it. Any lasting fantasy I had about him just evaporated into thin air.

  Chapter 2

  "You said what?" Small pellets of coffee come shooting out with the words from my best friend's mouth.

  "Thanks for the shower, jerk." I laugh as I pull a napkin across the nameplate on my chest. "I thought he wanted to sleep with me." I wince knowing that she's never going to let this go.

  "Christ, Sadie," she shrieks. "Why would you think that?"

  "Um...thanks." I playfully shrug my shoulders. "I mean I know I'm no Alexa Jackson, but the way he said it. I just thought he was talking about seducing me."

  "Don't beat yourself up." She runs her hand down my back. "You're gorgeous, Sadie. I didn't mean it like that."

  "I'm not." I laugh. "I made such a fool of myself."

  I watch the expression on her face change from glee to pity. I hate that. Alexa has been my best friend since grade school. She was there when I was sick and after my heart transplant. She was always the pretty one and I've always been the smart one. It's just how it's worked. I've watched her date every boy I've ever had a crush on. How could I blame any of them? She's beautiful. She has everything I've always wanted. The long blonde hair, the beautiful blue eyes, curves in all the right places and a body that is whole. It's flawless.

  My mousy brown hair, big brown eyes and thin frame have always paled in comparison to her. The only part of my life when I haven't felt insecure in her shadow is in school. It's where I belong. It's where I can hide away from the world.

  "I think we had too much champagne last night." She reaches to level the nameplate on my shirt. "You weren't thinking clearly."

  "I'll go with that." I push my elbow into her side. "It's almost seven. Time to put on a happy face and serve some coffee."

  She rolls her eyes as she adjusts the plain white dress shirt that she's wearing. That along with black pants and a red apron is our required uniform at Star Bistro. I giggle as she unbuttons the shirt so her cleavage is just barely visible.

  "You're such a tease," I say as I walk past her into the already bustling bistro.

  ***

  "He's here. Oh my fucking god, he is here," Alexa hisses into my ear as I'm trying to take the order of a man with a very thick Russian accent.

  "So that's a large, quad, half-sweet, caramel macchiato?" I repeat back hoping that this time I've finally got his order right. The dozen people standing behind him waiting for their java fix don't look too amused by my lack of translation skills.

  "Yeah, yeah." The burly Russian exclaims as he claps his hands. "You right!"

  I smile as I take the cash he offers. I ring it through and drop the remaining few cents into the tip jar at the edge of the counter.

  "Sadie." Alexa pulls me to the side as she whispers my name. "The guy. That guy. He's here."

  "Good for him." I can't focus on what she's saying. Josephine, our manager, is staring a hole through both of us right now. I may not need the job, as Hunter Reynolds pointed out last night but I love this job. I can't lose it.

  "Not now." I pull on Alexa's apron to get her attention. "We're so backed up. Whoever he is, you can talk to him on your break."

  "Pay attention." She grabs both of my shoulders and gives me the slightest shake. "That guy. The one you thought wanted to fuck you in the coat closet. He's here."

  I stare at her lips. Is she saying that Hunter is here? He's in the bistro? Now? I search her face for some clarification but she's fixated on something past my shoulder. I'm frozen. I can't turn around.

  "Shit. He's waving to me." She drops her hands and I get a glimpse of her fingers wafting through the air next to my head.

  "I feel sick," I whisper. If I have to be subjected to Hunter Reynolds picking up my best friend, I'm going to hide in the back room with the ground coffee and paper cups for eternity. When did my life become this humiliating?

  "He's motioning for you to turn around." There's confusion woven into her words. Why wouldn’t she be confused? She looks like she just stepped off a fashion week runway show for baristas and I look like I've been dragged under a truck. I have spilled milk, a combination of espresso and cocoa and something that resembles chewing gum stuck to the front of my apron.

  "I can't." I try to barrel my way past her to the refuge of the office at the back of the bistro. "I need to help Josephine do up next week's schedule."

  "Alexa." As if on cue, Josephine's shrill voice carries over the buzz of the customers. "Take an order."

  "Fine," Alexa barks back. I cringe when I see the expression on our manager's face. I've saved Alexa's ass from being fired so many times I've lost track and if she doesn't change her attitude soon, I'll be working here without her.

  "Excuse me, Sadie." I hear his deep voice calling out from behind me. I know this is the moment when I'm supposed to turn around and act all nonchalant about the fact that he's in the middle of the bistro I work at. Given the fact that it's just shy of eight o'clock on a Saturday morning and I only saw him a few hours ago, I'm guessing that he has an ulterior motive. It's likely he's looking for the number of the redhead who was bartending last night or
maybe that blonde who was handing out canapés before dinner.

  I turn slowly, trying in vain to wipe off my apron. He's standing near the counter, his left hip leaning against it. He's wearing a pair of jeans, a light blue dress shirt and a navy suit jacket. I drink him in. He's more gorgeous than he was last night, if that's even possible. The way his hair is falling casually onto his forehead gives him a boyish charm. The sharpness of his formal look has been replaced with a softness that makes him even more stunning.

  "Sadie, it's me. Hunter Reynolds," he says with a grin.

  I nod. Of course I know his name. I searched for it online after he left last night but what little I found didn't amount to much. He's elusive and that makes him even that much more appealing. "Yes," I whisper.

  "Can you talk for a minute?" he calls over the hum of the crowded space.

  I shake my head as I look at the crowd of people waiting to place orders. The line is out the door now. Working at the busiest bistro in downtown Boston certainly had its perks. You couldn’t beat the tips and the steady throngs of people passing through meant each shift flew by. "I don't have a break until ten thirty."

  He glances at his watch. "I'll just wait."

  I scowl at the thought of him waiting more than two hours in this crowd just to talk to me. I shake my head. "No. That's okay. Did you need someone's number?" I walk over to where he's standing. Maybe if I just give him what he wants he'll leave and I can get my heart beat back under control. How can any man possibly be as beautiful as he is?

  "Someone's number?" He smiles sheepishly. "What do you mean?"

  "You're looking for a woman's number, right?" I glance over my shoulder at Josephine. She's standing right behind Alexa watching her every move. I sigh. I'm grateful for the gentle reprieve.

  "What woman?" He throws the question back with a quizzed look.

  "Petra's replacement." I offer. "I assume you're here to get a number from someone else you met last night."

  His eyes wander over my face while he contemplates my words. "I'm not looking for any numbers." He gazes down at the counter before he continues, "I just wanted a few minutes to talk to you."