Sex Lies & Lingerie (Secrets and Lies Book 1) Read online

  SEX, LIES & LINGERIE

  Nelle L’Amour

  Sex, Lies & Lingerie

  Copyright © 2018 by Nelle L’Amour

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved worldwide.

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

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook at the authorized online outlets.

  Nelle L’Amour thanks you for your understanding and support.

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  Cover by Arijana Karčic, Cover It! Designs

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  BOOKS BY NELLE L’AMOUR

  Unforgettable

  Unforgettable Book 1

  Unforgettable Book 2

  Unforgettable Book 3

  Alpha Billionaire Duet

  TRAINWRECK 1

  TRAINWRECK 2

  A Standalone Romantic Comedy

  Baby Daddy

  An OTT Insta-love Standalone

  The Big O

  THAT MAN Series

  THAT MAN 1

  THAT MAN 2

  THAT MAN 3

  THAT MAN 4

  THAT MAN 5

  THAT MAN 6

  Secrets

  Sex, Lies & Lingerie

  Sex, Lust & Lingerie

  Sex, Love & Lingerie

  An Erotic Love Story

  Undying Love

  Endless Love

  Writing as E.L. Sarnoff

  DEWITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen

  UNHITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen 2

  Boxed Sets

  THAT MAN TRILOGY

  THAT MAN: THE WEDDING STORY

  Unforgettable: The Complete Series

  Gloria’s Secret: The Trilogy

  Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire

  Naughty Nelle

  To all my wonderful readers. You rock my world.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Books by Nelle L’Amour

  Dedication

  Note from Nelle

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  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 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

  NOTE FROM NELLE

  Dearest Reader~

  I’m thrilled to bring you this updated version of my Gloria’s Secret Trilogy. I have added dual POV throughout, and while the story essentially remains the same, you will now get much insight into Jaime Zander’s complex mind. And a whole lot more of his yummy alpha hotness!

  Be sure to have a fan nearby. Happy Reading!

  MWAH!~Nelle ♥

  “The only lie I ever told you is I liked you when I already knew I loved you.”

  —WRDSMIT71

  PROLOGUE

  Gloria

  Fifteen years earlier…

  Darkness shrouds us. We prowl like two cats, my eyes darting left and right, my ears attuned to even the slightest sound.

  I nervously tap my partner in crime’s shoulder. Like me, he’s clad in black sweats and a hoodie, along with black gloves and athletic shoes. Identical black ski masks cover our faces. We blend into the thick opaque air, only the whites of our eyes visible.

  “Kev, I’m scared. Maybe we should back out,” I whisper. My heart’s thudding in my ears, and I can feel sweat beads clustering on my flesh.

  He squeezes my hand. It’s cold and clammy beneath my gloves. “Glorious, we’ve come this far. There’s no turning back.”

  Something scuttles across my shoes. I jump. Kevin beams the flashlight he’s holding onto the floor. Phew! It’s only a mouse.

  The seconds feel like hours. The safe, Kevin assures me, is only steps away. It feels like miles. Kevin swings the flashlight until it lands on the huge vault in front of us. All slick, polished steel, it’s bigger than I imagined—a massive, towering fortress.

  “Hold this.” Kevin hands me the flashlight. I try hard to calm my trembling hands as I watch Kevin rotate the fist-size combination lock.

  Right. Click. Right again. Click. Left. Click. Right. Click.

  “Bingo!”

  My thundering heart practically leaps out of my chest when the heavy door springs open. My eyes grow round, filling the apertures of the ski mask. Bundles of one hundred dollar bills are stashed inside, stuffing the safe to the hilt.

  Kevin instantly starts shoveling them into his large satchel. I’m paralyzed with shock and fear.

  “Glorious, what are you waiting for?”

  No matter how much I will them, I can’t get my hands to move. The stacks of green bills beckon me, but this feels wrong. So, so wrong. What am I doing here?

  Kevin continues to shovel handfuls of the neatly tied up green bundles into his canvas bag.

  “C’mon, we’ve gotta work fast.” His voice sounds frantic.

  Reluctantly, I crouch down and extend a trembling hand into the safe. The touch of the raw money burns my fingertips. I can’t do this! I can’t!

  An ear-deafening siren sounds. Hot infrared lights flash. The effect is dizzying. An inner panic button goes off inside me as all air leaves my lungs.

  “Fuck!” shouts Kevin. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “Leave the money,” I plead.

  “No. It’s ours. Yours.”

  No choice. Each grabbing a handle of the heavy, money-laden satchel, we sprint toward the exit.

  Heavy footsteps. Not ours. The glaring ray of a flashlight beams into my eyes, blinding me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The booming, accented voice echoes in the chamber. We’re doomed!

  “Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky.”

  “Fuck you,” Kevin shouts back.

  A powerful arm grips my neck. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The other hand rips off my ski mask. My platinum tresses tumble out.

  He fists a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. His wretched pink eyes clash with mine, one blue and the other brown.

  “You little cunt!” growls the accented voice through clenc
hed teeth. “You’re going to pay for this, seka!

  “And so are you, bitch,” spits Kevin.

  Something hard presses into my chest, just above my heart.

  Kevin wrenches me free from my assailant but not before a deafening boom explodes in my ear. A scorching white fire shoots through my body. Oh the pain!

  “You motherfucker.” My Kevin.

  I feel my body sag as another shot is fired.

  “FUUUUUUCK!” A roar like a wounded lion, not mine.

  “Oh, Glorious!” cries Kevin as he lifts me in his arms.

  The world inside my head fades to black.

  CHAPTER 1

  Gloria

  I was running late. I was never late. “Late” wasn’t part of my vocabulary. Damn that breakfast meeting. My guest, the stiff-lipped head of a major Madison Avenue ad agency, showed up forty-five minutes late. There’d been a cab accident en route that had caused a traffic jam. The unexpected had no place in my life. To make matters worse, I had to run back up to my hotel room because I’d carelessly left my cell phone in a different handbag. As the CEO of Gloria’s Secret, one of the largest retail emporiums in the world, I couldn’t be without my lifeline for the rest of the day.

  Clutching my Chanel briefcase in my right hand, I anxiously pressed the elevator “Down” button several times with the other. I was staying in New York City at The Walden, a recently renovated five-star, twenty-story Park Avenue hotel that dated back to the fifties. Unfortunately, my favorite hotel, The Ritz-Carlton, was booked up so I had decided to give this new, highly-rated venue a chance. So far, I hadn’t been disappointed. The accommodations were outstanding as was the service.

  The elevator, to my relief, arrived quickly. I dashed inside the sleek car, which still retained some of its mid-century charm, and hit the “L” button for the lobby. The polished metal doors slid closed. Just before they met in the middle, a manicured masculine hand flashed between them, preventing them from closing.

  In a panic, I fumbled to press the “Open” button, fearing that the doors would slam shut on the hand and crush it. I’d seen this uncanny thing happen once before as a child and had never forgotten the gory scene. Flustered, I lost grip of my stuffed briefcase, and it tumbled onto the floor. In my haste to make it to my next meeting on time, I’d forgotten to zip it. This was just not my day. The contents—dozens of photos of gorgeous supermodels clad in skimpy underwear—scattered around my black stilettos. Damn it! I just didn’t need this right now. I crouched down to gather up the spillage—no easy task in my tight pencil skirt and six-inch heels. As I began to frantically collect the photos, two loafer-clad feet appeared before my eyes.

  “Let me help you.” The voice was virile, velvety, and deep.

  Before I could blink an eye, I was facing the intruder who had caused me to drop my briefcase. He had bent down to help me gather the loose photos. Our eyes stayed locked on one another. Mine shooting daggers his way. His deflecting every one of my visual assaults. Just a palm’s width apart, I felt his warm breath heat my cheeks and could smell a hint of his deliciously spicy cologne. I recognized it immediately. Homme, which means “man” in French. It was part of our newly launched men’s line of fragrances. The perfect gift for a woman to give to her man this coming Valentine’s Day.

  I studied his face and what I could glean of his body. Let’s put it this way: I had seen a lot of male models, but this guy was something else. Manly. Built. Mid to late thirties. He was one hundred percent pure gorgeousness with his broad shoulders, intense denim blue eyes, mop of silky chestnut hair, and strong dimpled chin. A fine layer of stubble laced his olive complexion. Along with sockless suede loafers, he was wearing a battered leather bomber jacket over a white cotton T-shirt that showed off his taut chest, and faded designer jeans that revealed a ridge of muscles along his thighs. I assumed his legs were long, but it was hard to tell in his squatting position. What I could tell for sure was that there was a sizeable package between them. My gaze shifted quickly back to the floor.

  “Interesting photos,” my companion mused, his eyes lingering on a particularly sexy one of a D-cup model fondling her lace-encased breasts. A wry smile twisted his lips. “Hmm. I think I fucked her once.” He picked up another. “She looks familiar too.”

  “Give me those!” I snatched the photos from him and slipped them into my briefcase.

  “Are you a photographer?” he asked, not the least bit intimidated by me.

  “Hardly.”

  “So, you’re some kind of pervert who collects photos of beautiful semi-naked women with big tits.”

  “And you’re some kind of pervert who sleeps with them.” I shot him my dirtiest look and continued collecting the scattered photos. We both reached for the last one, and my hand brushed up against his. God, his hand was beautiful! Large, long-fingered, and so, so soft. Even the violet veins that splayed across them were works of art.

  Caught in the moment, I suddenly realized we weren’t moving. The elevator doors were still open. In my flustered state, I’d forgotten to hit the “Close” button.

  “Would you mind hitting the “Close” button?” My voice was edgy.

  “Good idea. Places to go; people to meet.” He rose to his feet. My eyes roamed up his long, athletic legs. He was easily six foot three. A magnificent pillar of leanness and muscle.

  With his elegant forefinger, he pushed the button, and the doors glided together. The elevator descended, but before I could stand up, it came to a jolting halt. I felt the onset of a mini panic attack. My heart raced and sweat pooled behind my knees. I hated being out of control.

  “Are you okay?” asked the mysterious stranger, crouching down again.

  I gulped. Unable to find my voice, I nodded like one of those bobble head dolls. The truth: I was losing it, and I wasn’t sure if it was the effect his gorgeousness was having on me or that of the erratic elevator.

  He brushed my chin with the wispy tip of my long platinum braid. “Don’t worry. This happens all the time with this elevator.”

  Without warning, the elevator jerked and began to free fall. I gasped while the breathtaking man beside me grinned smugly as if he was enjoying every minute of this situation.

  “Hey, we’re moving again. This is an express elevator, so we’ll be down in no time.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach even faster. This man was having a very uncomfortable e/affect on me. I felt my cheeks heat and my heart tick like a metronome.

  In no time, the elevator reached our destination, and the doors opened wide. My companion lifted me to my feet. His firm grip around my shoulders sent a parade of goosebumps down my arms. We stood face-to-face. My five foot nine frame in six-inch heels confirmed his estimated height. Standing erect, his body was even more imposing than I’d imagined. His shoulders were square, his hips narrow, and his legs long and solid.

  “Ladies, first,” he said with a sexy wink.

  With my briefcase in hand, I shot out of the elevator and walked briskly through the bustling mid-century themed lobby to the entrance of the hotel. The clickety-clack of my heels across the marble floor echoed in my ears. Mr. Infuriating strode next to me, keeping up with my pace with ease.

  Outside the tall steel and glass building, we stood side by side. The early morning rush of New York pedestrians and cabs passed us by. The weather was picture-postcard perfect and surprisingly mild for a mid-February day. I was glad that I didn’t wear a coat.

  “Can I give you a ride?” he asked. “My driver will be here any minute.”

  “I have my own driver,” I replied without looking his way.

  “Impressive.” I didn’t miss the playful sarcasm in his voice.

  His driver, in a sleek black Ranger Rover, pulled up first. A hotel valet raced to open the back door for my companion.

  “See ya.” He winked at me again.

  Bastard!

  With an irritating smirk, he slid into the Rover. His eyes lingered on mine before the passenger door clos
ed. My deadpan face didn’t move a muscle as the car pulled away.

  Two minutes later, my black Town Car pulled up. My driver stepped out and escorted me into the back seat.

  “Good morning, Miss Long.”

  “Good morning, Nigel,” I said brightly as I sidled gracefully into the car. Trusty Nigel was always my driver when I came to New York for business. I could always count on the jovial, silver-haired Brit to get me anywhere. And there on time.

  “Where to this morning?”

  I gave him the address of ZAP! It was located in the heart of Soho.

  I leaned back into the comfy leather seat and let out a sigh. This was the tenth—and last advertising agency—I was visiting. Since the beginning of the week, I had met with all of the top Madison Avenue agencies. It had been a draining, whirlwind tour.

  Truthfully, none of them had impressed me. As CEO of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie retail chain in the world, I was looking for a creative team to help me bring my empire to a new level of sensuality and sales. With the insane popularity of books like Fifty Shades of Grey, I was convinced women were looking for a new way to express themselves. A way that communicated: Take me—I’m yours. If we were going to stay ahead of the competition, then I had to be the first to tap into this hot, new erotic trend. We were already developing a line of provocative products.

  The car cruised down Fifth Avenue, Nigel expertly weaving in and out of the maddening mid-town traffic. In the back seat, I mused about my upcoming meeting.

  Unlike the other ad agencies I’d visited, ZAP! was a relatively new kid on the block. What was called a “boutique agency.” My partner Kevin had heard about their cutting edge work and had urged me to meet with them. My heart set on a big agency, I reluctantly agreed to his request, but after researching it a bit, I was glad I’d trusted Kevin’s instincts.

  Several things I’d read online about the agency had impressed me. First, they had created a campaign for a new Japanese minivan that made the word “minivan” sexy. The campaign’s tagline: “And the mommy goes “mmmmmmm.” Anyone who could turn an oppressive minivan into a sexy beast scored points with me.