Secrets Lies & Revelations Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Secrets, Lies and Revelations

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-160-7

  ©Copyright Pamela L. Todd 2017

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2017

  Edited by Rebecca Scott

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2017 by Totally Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 1.

  Beautiful Sinners

  SECRETS, LIES AND REVELATIONS

  Pamela L. Todd

  Book three in the Beautiful Sinners series

  This party girl knows what she wants…but he is everything she needs.

  Manhattan is party girl Hayley’s playground. Every night there’s a new club opening, a hot DJ’s birthday party, or dinner with the city’s most eligible bachelors. Despite her carefree and bohemian outlook, there is one thing Hayley takes very seriously—her love life. She’s looking for her Prince Charming but so far all she’s found is a lot of frogs.

  Fresh from her latest heartbreak, she meets Colton Deluca…and everything changes. Even though he’s hot as hell, funny and oh so seductive, he isn’t her type at all, and no amount of persuasion on his part will change her mind. But Colt is a patient man and he knows a woman like Hayley is worth the effort.

  As her perception starts to shift, Hayley realizes that maybe she’s been looking in all the wrong places for all the wrong things.

  Dedication

  Well, here it is, Mrs. Stewart! Thank you for all your support, your love and warmth.

  You’re a fantastic neighbor, and an even better friend. Now go find the character you so generously donated your name to!

  A special nod must be given to my super special cousin, Susan. I am so grateful for all your encouragement and your enthusiasm. I’ve left a surprise for you amongst the pages.

  And for Nick, the best friend a girl could ask for.

  Here’s to all the parties we had, and still enjoying them in our nineties.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Dior: Christian Dior SE

  Industry: Industry

  Batman: DC Comics

  Thor: Marvel Comics

  Manolo: Manolo Blahnik

  Heineken: Heineken International

  Disney: The Walt Disney Company

  Eight Below: Walt Disney Pictures

  Homeward Bound: Walt Disney Pictures

  Netflix: Netflix Inc.

  Bonnie and Clyde: Warner Bros.-Seven Arts, Inc.

  Jimmy Choo: JAB Holding Company

  Bollinger: Bollinger

  Lucky Charms: General Mills, Inc.

  Irregular Choice: Irregular Choice

  Dolce and Gabbana: Dolce & Gabbana S.r.l.

  Valentino: Valention SpA

  Stella McCartney: Stella McCartney

  Alibi: Alibi

  Alexander McQueen: Kering

  Kurt Geiger: Cinven

  Bud: Anheuser-Busch InBev NV

  Ferrari: Ferrari S.p.A.

  Porsche: Porsche AG

  Kurumazushi: Uezu Corporation LLC

  Jean-Georges: Jean-Georges Vongerichten

  Marc Jacobs: Marc Jacobs

  Cartier: Compagnie Financière Richemont SA

  Peter Pan: J.M. Barrie

  Caffebene: Caffebene

  Hyundai Tuscon: Hyundai Group

  Prada: Prada S.p.A.

  In Style: Time Inc.

  DVF: Diane von Fürstenberg

  Monopoly: Hasbro

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Tupperware: Tupperware Brands Corporation

  Elie Saab: Elie Saab

  MoMA: The Museum of Modern Art

  Starry Night: Vincent Van Gogh

  Provocateur: Gansevoort Hotel Group

  Gianvito Rossi: GGR S.R.L.

  Antonio Berardi: Antonio Berardi

  Amex: American Express Company

  Knicks: National Basketball Association

  Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

  Chucks: Nike, Inc.

  Technicolor: Technicolor SA

  Facebook: Facebook Inc.

  Kiss the Girl: Alan Menken, Howard Ashman

  The Little Mermaid: Walt Disney Pictures

  Finding Nemo: Walt Disney Pictures

  The Nightmare Before Christmas: Touchstone Pictures, Skellington Productions

  Tinkerbell: The Walt Disney Company

  Snickers: Mars, Incorporated

  Laffy Taffy: Nestlé S.A.

  Armani: Giorgio Armani S.p.A.

  Carlyle: Rosewood Hotels

  Bergdorf Goodman: Neiman Marcus Group

  Gucci: Kering

  Giants: National Football Conference

  Madeline: Ludwig Belmelmans

  Silver Cross: Silver Cross

  E.T.: Universal Pictures

  Alice in Wonderland: Lewis Carroll, The Walt Disney Company

  Oscar de la Renta: Oscar de la Renta

  Roberto Cavalli: Roberto Cavalli

  Happy Meal: McDonald’s Corporation

  Olympics: International Olympic Committee

  Hermès: Hermès International S.A.

  Tiffany: Tiffany & Company

  Stepford: Ira Levin

  Fendi: LVMH

  Zoë: Zoë Ltd.

  Vanity Fair: Condé Nast

  Per Se: Thomas Keller

  M&Ms: Mars, Incorporated

  Chapter One

  As always, the food at Per Se was out of this world. The restaurant drew in a different class of clientele, a certain pedigree who only wanted the best. Situated in Midtown, it was elegant and intimate without being overly pretentious—crisp
white linens, sparkling hardwood floors and wide, clear windows that showed off stellar views of Central Park and Columbus Circle. Tonight was a beautiful night, the city flung out before us like a perfect, twinkly Van Gogh painting.

  I felt like a million bucks in my vintage Dior black cocktail dress. The deep V neckline flattered my modest chest, the fitted waist and back criss-cross straps gave it a sexy edge without being overt. And the front pleat that made the material swish when I walked was just for fun. The man sitting across from me looked like he dined in this kind of restaurant every night of his life. Which, incidentally, he pretty much did.

  Marcus Tate was a thirty-two-year-old investment banker for a leading firm in the city. He was the youngest broker to have scored top figures for his clients, resulting in a hefty pay packet for himself and an arrogance that came from building yourself up and knowing you were the shit. That, and he was hung like a boss. His face was nice to look at, too.

  We’d met a few months ago at the Met and had hit it off after discovering our mutual hatred for the tourists that crowded all the best displays. Tonight marked our five-month anniversary and I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the evening would bring. Marcus was the kind of guy who liked to throw his money around. So far in our romance he’d spoiled me rotten, whisking me away for long weekends, buying me jewelry and shoes. Marcus was, without a doubt, my ultimate Prince Charming.

  Once our table was cleared after dessert, Marcus shifted in his seat. He finished the rest of his wine in one gulp. “I had a specific reason for inviting you here tonight,” Marcus said as he met my eye.

  “Our anniversary wasn’t enough?” I asked, giving him a playful smile.

  Marcus blinked. His face took on a rosy hue and he nodded. “Our anniversary. Of course.” He blew out a breath and shifted in his chair again.

  Man, he’s nervous tonight. Oh, God. Marcus was never nervous. Like, ever. So it stood to reason that whatever he was trying to say was a doozy. Oh my God… Was he—was Marcus about to propose?

  “Hayley, these last few months have flown by. It feels like I’ve hardly blinked and yet here we are, five months in. You’re fun and energetic, and I love that fire you have inside you.”

  Remember every second of this—don’t you dare forget!

  “It’s time I got serious. I’m facing a promising career and my responsibilities are only going to increase. I’m not a stupid kid anymore and it’s time I stopped acting like it. Which is why I’m breaking up with you.”

  I gasped and pressed a hand to my chest, my eyes filling. A girlish laugh lodged in my throat and—wait a second, did he say break up? Marcus was breaking up with me?

  “I really care for you, Hayley, but we were never going to be serious. And it’s time that I was. I can’t dick around for another few years—I need to settle down.” Marcus gave me a kind smile that made me want to punch him in the throat. “And you’re not the kind of girl who settles down.”

  “I’m sorry, I just want to check something since my brain and my ears seem to be arguing with each other—you want to break up with me because you want to settle down…just not with someone like me?” I asked. This couldn’t be happening. Marcus was perfect for me, in that lukewarm, affectionate kind of way. He was the epitome of everything I had ever wanted for myself…and now he was ending it?

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “What the fuck?” I exclaimed, louder than I’d intended. A few curious stares were sent our way and I guessed this was the exact reason I wasn’t the kind to settle down with. “Are you seriously breaking up with me on our five-month anniversary?”

  Marcus tapped his fingers on the table. “Come on, that isn’t even a real thing.”

  “Of course it is!” I huffed. “What, so, are first kiss anniversaries not a real thing either? Or the one-month anniversary of the first time we slept together? Because I seem to remember how enthusiastically you enjoyed that one.”

  All humor drained from Marcus’ face. “Hayley—”

  “For chrissake, Marcus, my dad was the mayor of New Haven! My mom’s family comes from old railroad money. I’m not a goddamn nobody.” I drew in a quick breath and clenched my hands into fists to stop them shaking. Christ, had I really just said that? What an idiot. It was totally true, though—my family was extremely well respected back home. We had a comfortable life that I—most of the time, anyway—didn’t take for granted. It allowed me to do pretty much whatever I wanted here in the city.

  “It’s not about status,” Marcus said, lifting his hand in a bid to get me to lower my voice. “Hell, your background is half the reason—” He stopped himself mid-sentence.

  A surprising calmness settled in my blood as I pinned him with my stare. “Half the reason you what, Marcus?”

  He shook his head and seemed to decide against finishing the sentence. “You’re not a serious girl, Hayley. How many nights out a week do you have? Half the time you aren’t even home before dawn. I’m sorry, but I left that behind in my twenties.”

  Our waiter approached the table with his hands clasped behind his back. “Can I get you anything else this evening?”

  Marcus opened his mouth to answer, but I beat him to the punch. “Actually, yes, we’ll take the Barbaresco. The 2011 Gaja, I think, will do nicely.”

  “Of course. Glass or the bottle?”

  I winked at Marcus. “Oh, the bottle, please. We are celebrating, after all.”

  The waiter nodded. “May I ask what the occasion is?”

  “It’s a double actually—our five-month anniversary, and also our breakup.” I wrinkled my nose in a ‘how cute is that’ sort of way.

  He glanced between Marcus and me for a second. “Coming right up.”

  Wise man.

  Once the waiter was out of earshot, Marcus’ polite smile fell and he shot me a hard glare. “A four-hundred-dollar bottle of wine? Really?”

  I shrugged and flashed him a carefree, happy, not-the-type-to-settle-down grin. “Call it a parting gift.”

  And so we sat in tense silence while I drank most of that damn bottle. It was too dry for my taste, not something I’d usually choose. But it was the principle of the matter. Marcus settled the bill and walked me out of the restaurant with his hand on the small of my back.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Marcus,” I said, pulling my phone out of my purse.

  “You too, Hayley,” Marcus said quietly before slipping away. To avoid another scene, no doubt.

  Giving him a jaunty salute, I dialed Eve’s number and looked down the street for a cab with its light on.

  “Hey, girl,” Eve said as she answered, a blast of club music behind her. “Aren’t you out on the super romantic not-really-an-anniversary dinner with Marcus?”

  I snorted. Whatever. Five months totally qualified for an anniversary. “Yeah, during which he dumped me. In the middle of Per Se.”

  Eve gasped. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. Where are you guys tonight? I so need my girls.” I just wished my main girl was here. But no. She was living it up in Vegas with the love of her life.

  Eve giggled. “We’re at Industry. Are you coming out?”

  A cab pulled up at the curb in front of me and I paused with my hand on the door. “The gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen?”

  “One and the same. Get your ass down here, girl. See you in a few.” Eve disconnected the call before I could even argue.

  Not that I wanted to.

  What was the one thing that was sure to cheer a girl up after getting her ass dumped by the guy who was so not her Prince Charming? Dancing the night away with ridiculously hot men who wanted nothing more than to compliment her fabulous vintage dress.

  Hot guys. No pressure. I was so there.

  * * * *

  Industry was one of the hottest gay bars in the city. I’d been once before—Marley and I had ended up there one night, drunk off our asses on cocktails, and had had a blast. I think. It was mostly a blur, as was the photog
raphic evidence.

  The sidewalk bustled outside Industry as I stepped out of the cab. The music inside the bar poured onto the street. The sidewalk was crowded with bodies—people smoking, people laughing and enjoying the night. Inside, the place was packed and I pushed my way through, trying to find Beth and Eve. It shouldn’t have been hard—there was probably only a handful of women in the bar. Men, men, fit, hot men as far as the eye could…

  Stop. Focus.

  Beth and Eve. If I were a man-loving, energetic ball of fun looking to have a good time, where would I be?

  Right where I would be—in the middle of a man-sandwich on the dance floor.

  Sure enough, I spotted Eve’s short blonde hair and Beth’s long, curly brunette locks among the chiseled pecs and sweaty torsos. They bumped and grinded with the best of them. Beth saw me first as I made my way toward them. Her face lit up and she reached out to grab my hand and tug me into the middle of their huddle.

  Eve threw her arms around my shoulders, screaming something I couldn’t quite make out. I hugged her back and laughed at how excited she and Beth were.

  “Why have we never been here before?” Beth asked with a giggle.

  A tall, ripped dude with a shaved head strutted past us in a pair of jeans that left nothing to the imagination. “I have no idea,” I said, my eyes glued to his ass.

  “Girl, that dress is hot,” Eve said, shaking her hips to the music. “Where’d you find that one?”

  Beth held up a hand before I could answer. “When will you learn? I don’t want to hear about how she rifled through some dead old lady’s closet.”

  I threw my head back with a laugh. “My God, you make it sound so seedy! It is what I was hired for, you know. I don’t just stalk the obits and go knocking on their door.”

  We danced for the next few songs, loving the attention we got from guys who actually wanted to dance with us and loving even more that we didn’t have to worry about unwanted hands.