3. Lacey
3
LACEY
"You better not be brooding in the dark," Megan calls out as she shoulders through the door, juggling her laptop bag and what looks like a bakery box.
"Not brooding. Just contemplating setting Nathan’s car on fire."
"Oh good, a felony. That'll help." She flips on the light and I blink against the sudden brightness.
"Here." She tosses the bakery box into my lap. " Three Birds ' finest emotional support cupcakes."
"You're a saint." I peek inside the box. "Is that the one with real maple syrup?"
"Obviously. This isn't my first rodeo." Megan kicks off her shoes and collapses next to me on the couch. "Alright, deets.”
I take a bite of cupcake to stall. The sweetness helps, but my throat still feels tight. "Found Nathan last night in the office with his secretary Caroline.”
"Shit." Megan's eyes go wide. "Like, with her with her?"
"Legs spread and heels on." I lick frosting off my thumb.
"That absolute dick." Megan's voice has that dangerous edge it gets when she starts plotting about things that’ll never happen. "Want me to post something about him? I could probably come up with something?—"
"No." I grab her hand before she can reach for her phone. "I just want to be done with him."
"Fine." She squeezes my hand. "But I reserve the right to trip him if I see him in public."
That startles a laugh out of me. "Deal."
We sit in comfortable silence for a minute. Through the wall, I can hear Dad's soft snoring from upstairs.
"How's Dad?" Megan asks, picking at the edge of her cupcake.
"No worse than usual." I rest my head against her shoulder. "Freddy was here when I arrived."
Megan stiffens. "What did he take this time?"
"Not sure yet." I recall the flash of guilt on his face. “But I’m sure we’ll find out in a few days.”
"We could get a restraining order," Megan says, but her voice lacks conviction. We both know she doesn't have the heart to do it. Despite everything, he's still our brother.
Megan’s brother, not yours. Freddy's voice echoes in my ear.
Ugh!
"He'd just ignore it." I sit up straighter, rubbing my temples.
"I know, I know." Megan sighs, running a hand through her short bob. "But what else can we do? Change the locks again? He'll just come when Dad's confused and be let in the front door."
"At least he's not taking anything Dad needs day-to-day anymore."
"Small mercies." Megan's laugh is bitter. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him, I know it can't have been easy. What with Nathan and all. You won’t be here tomorrow night, right? Working that event? What was it again?"
"The Vorobyov memorial retrospective." I pick at my cupcake, remembering a pair of storm-gray eyes. "Actually, something else happened today. At Mrs. K's." I suppress a smile when Megan's eyes widen. "Nothing serious, but… I uh, kind of met someone."
"Wait, back up." Megan perks up, sensing gossip. "You met a guy? Today? Right after catching your fiancé cheating and in the middle of your emotional breakdown?"
"Not exactly met ." That smirk of his flashes through my mind again. "More like verbally sparred with while he tried to buy Mrs. K's business."
"Details, Lace, details.” Megan sits up straighter. "How about we start with his name?"
"Vadim Stravinsky."
"The fashion mogul?" Megan's eyes go wide. "From Svoboda? That Vadim Stravinsky?"
"You know him?"
“I work for the Voice, Lace. It's my job to know who's who in this city.” She pulls out her phone, fingers flying. "Let's see. Svoboda was started fifteen years ago, and for the last ten, they've been buying up fashion boutiques left and right in Seattle. Usually they send representatives, not..." She trails off, staring at her screen for a moment before holding it up to my face. "Oh damn, he's hot."
I look on the screen and feel my heart skip when I see Vadim Stravinsky's face grinning back at me.
Does pretending to hate me usually work for you?
"I hadn't noticed." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
"Bullshit." Megan zooms in on whatever photo she's looking at. "That jawline could cut glass. And I bet if you strip that shirt off, you could grate cheese on those abs."
"Cheese-grater abs or not. He's arrogant and pushy and—" I catch myself. "And he gave me his number.”
"He what? " Megan practically squeals. "Well, have you called him?"
"No, I haven't called him." I toss the rest of my cupcake back in the box. "And I'm not going to."
"Why not?" Megan grabs my phone from the coffee table. "This is like, fate or something."
I snatch my phone back before she can start dialing. "It's not fate. He's just some rich guy who?—"
"Who's clearly into you. Why else would he give you his number?”
“Pump your brakes, Meg. He's not into me." I sink deeper into the couch. "Besides, I need some time to myself. Which is going to be impossible because he'll also be at the Vorobyov event tomorrow night."
" What? " Megan stands up so fast she almost knocks over the cupcake box. “How many times do I have to ask you for details before you start giving me details?”
"He'll be there as a guest." I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. "Not serving up appetizers like me."
"Appetizers like you?” Megan winks. “You plan on serving yourself up to him on a platter?”
"Oh my God, can you get your mind out of the gutter?" I throw a decorative pillow at her head. “I told you, I’m not interested.”
"Sure." Megan dodges with practiced ease. "Not interested in the sexy, rich, and obviously interested billionaire with cheese-grater abs. You’re such a terrible liar."
"Do I need to remind you that I literally caught Nathan cheating on me last night?"
"Exactly. Perfect timing for some revenge success."
"Revenge success?"
"Did I say revenge success?" Megan wiggles her eyebrows. "Sorry, I meant revenge sex."
"You're impossible." But I can't help smiling.
"Impossibly optimistic." She smirks. "And that number isn't going to dial itself. Look, Lace, this Vadim guy is clearly loaded and at least cares a little bit about fashion. So you got common ground already. The two of you were arguing like an old married couple within thirty seconds of meeting each other. And he gave you his number? If you aren’t going to serve yourself up to him on a platter, I will!"
"Like you’d survive a night catering." I stand up, needing to move. "The last thing I need is to get involved with some arrogant douchebag who probably sees me as another number on his spreadsheet, Meg. It’s not proper!”
"Since when do you care about proper?” Megan fixes me with that look she gets when she thinks I'm being particularly dense. "Look, I'm not saying marry the guy. But he gave you his number for a reason. If nothing else, he wants you to call him. When was the last time you did something just for yourself? Something selfish?"
I snort. "I don't have time to be selfish."
"That's exactly my point." Megan reaches for my phone again. “You need to be selfish, for once in your life. You can’t spend all your time taking care of everyone else. Dad, Mrs. Klossner, your catering job?—"
"Oh shit." I tuck my phone safely in my pocket. "I need to get my dry cleaning from the car before I forget."
"Running away from this conversation won't make it go away!" she calls after me.
"Watch me try!" I yell back, but I'm smiling as I step outside into the humid evening air.
My dry cleaning is sitting in the backseat right where I left it this morning—a lifetime ago, before Nathan and Vadim and everything else that's made this day feel endless.
When I come back, Megan's already frowning.
"Lacey?" She points. "Are you sure that's your dry cleaning? You could fit two of you in here."
"What?"
I look and my stomach immediately drops.
Instead of the familiar black vest and slacks, I find myself staring at a full three-piece suit—charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, and definitely not mine. The shoulders alone are twice my width. There's no way I could fill this out.
One look, and I can tell the fabric isn't the polyester blend I'd dropped off the other day. I rip the plastic cover off and run my hand over it and gasp.
This is cashmere.
Real cashmere.
And the stitching… I marvel at the workmanship. Each seam is perfect. Each button is made of gleaming mother-of-pearl. This suit belongs in a museum, not balled up in my hands.
“Oh no.” My voice comes out small as memories of this morning flood back. Vadim standing too close. His scent making my head spin as he talked. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And me, grabbing whatever was closest on the counter without even looking.
Quickly, I open it up and my world spins when I see the distinctive gold-threaded label stitched inside the jacket collar.
Svoboda.
"No." I close my eyes, willing the label to change. "No, no, no."
"What?" Megan peers over my shoulder. Her eyes go wide. "Is that…"
"I must have grabbed his dry cleaning by mistake when I left Mrs. K's." My cheeks burn as I speak. "Which means..."
"He has yours!" Megan's grin turns devious. "Well, now you have to call him."
"This isn't funny! This probably costs more than I make in a month. Maybe even a year!"
"Good thing you have his number then." Megan picks up my phone from the couch. "Want me to dial it for you?"
"Give me that." I snatch it away, my hands shaking slightly. "I can't believe this is happening."
I stare at my phone, heart pounding as I pull up the messaging app. My fingers hover over the keypad.
“Well?" Megan gets up off the couch and looks on my screen. “What are you waiting for?”
"I'm thinking!" But every possible line sounds ridiculous in my head. "What do I even say? 'Sorry I stole your suit'? 'Hey, remember me? The girl who yelled at you this morning'?"
“Just get started on something, you’ll figure it out.”
I start typing.
Hi, this is Lacey from Mrs. Klossner’s. I accidentally grabbed your suit this morning.
No, too formal.
Hey, we need to talk about our dry-cleaning situation.
Definitely not.
So funny story...
God no.
"You're overthinking this." Megan flops back onto the couch.
"It's not that simple." I run my fingers over the cashmere again, marveling at how luxurious it feels. "What if he's already noticed? What if he's already called the police?"
"For a dry-cleaning mix-up?" Megan rolls her eyes. "Pretty sure that's not a criminal offense."
"This suit is easily a few thousand dollars! If not a few tens of thousands of dollars!"
"Just tell him you have his suit and want to arrange a swap. Personally, I think you should put the jacket on in your birthday suit, take a picture, and send it to him.”
"Absolutely not!"
But what would his reaction be if I actually do follow through with Megan's suggestion? Will those storm-gray eyes widen as he opens a message from an unknown number. Will his confident smile falter for just a moment when he recognizes his own suit jacket on me, naked?
Will he look at every little detail in the photo while his free hand moves down to unzip his pants? Will he whisper that nickname he gave me at Mrs. K's? What was it? Zvyozdochka?
Will he send a picture back?
I bet he’s got a huge cock.
Whoa… where did that thought come from?
But now that it's in my head, I can’t dig it out.
I feel a flush rising on my cheeks.
"Earth to Lacey!" Megan waves her hand in front of my face. "You zoned out there for a minute."
"Just trying to figure out what to write." My voice sounds higher than I'd like, and I'm almost embarrassed to look Megan in the eyes.
And suddenly, all I can think about is Vadim. With a few hours separating me from finding out that he was buying Mrs. Klossner’s dry cleaner and fueled by cupcakes, my mind starts wandering about what lies underneath that impeccable suit of his. I am still excited about the possibility of seeing him again. His storm-gray eyes. His broad shoulders.
"Lacey, I can see you biting your lip." Megan tilts her head at me, smirking. “You only bite your lip when you’re nervous.”
She's right. I am nervous. Over a text message!
A text message to an incredibly wealthy, intimidatingly attractive man who probably thinks I'm insane.
No pressure.
"You know what? I'll just give it back to him tomorrow at the event." I lock my phone screen decisively. "He'll be there anyway."
"Are you kidding me?" Megan throws her hands up in the air in disappointment. "You're really going to pass up this opportunity?"
"It's not an opportunity. It's a dry-cleaning mix-up." I carefully fold the suit back into its plastic cover. "And I'm exhausted."
"Fine." Megan sighs dramatically but doesn't push further. "But if you don't have your catering uniform, then you should wear that red dress tomorrow. The one that makes your ass look amazing."
"I'm working the event, not attending it." I gather my things, ready to head home. "I'll pick up some black pants and white button-down from Kohl's in the morning. "
"Boring." She shakes her head. "But suit yourself."
"I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."
"Mmkay," Megan says. "Don't stay up too late fantasizing..."
"Megan!"
"Hey, I'm just saying." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Those fingers of yours might need some exercise. Especially after the day you've had and with the spank bank at your disposal."
"And on that note, Meg." I feel my cheeks burning as I head upstairs to my old room. "Good night.”
"Sweet dreams!" She calls after me. "And maybe a few dirty ones too!"
I shake my head, but can't help smiling as I walk into my old room, hang up Vadim's dry cleaning, and close the door.
Stravinsky .
Maybe Megan's right. Maybe I should text him. Who knows, maybe he'll help find a job in fashion, doing what I actually want to do.
And if nothing else, rebound sex with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met might make me feel desirable again.
I wish I knew more about him.
What was it that Mrs. Klossner said?
There was a piece of paper in your pocket. I saved it for you.
I reach into the inside breast pocket and pull out the piece of carefully folded paper. I open it, hoping to see a business letterhead, but instead, it’s a price list of several items from other high-end boutiques. Nothing but a short item description followed by insane prices.
They look like typos with all those zeroes.
I scoff at the million-dollar items crossed off the list. He must be drowning in money if he’s snatching up other people’s businesses as fast as he can write a check.
Curious, I pull out my phone and start typing in the names. Each one leads to a dead end of a discontinued line of products—and every one of them was sold only once.
Not a single search offers up any additional explanation for why the businesses are being sold.
Well… All except one.
Chrysalis Designs , a high-end accessories vendor, announced that their CEO was tragically killed in a car accident on the Pacific Coast Highway. I only know their name because Nathan had been working late on a deal with them a few months ago.
A chill runs over my skin and tingles flare over my scalp as I quickly slip the paper back into the pocket. I feel like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm spying on something that I shouldn't be.
I check out my reflection holding the oversized suit in the little mirror in front of the bed.
Megan is right, I don’t have to fall in love again.
And what I’m about to do… it’s not love. It’s not even lust.
It’s about taking back some measure of control. To not feel so helpless after a day where every bit of control was stolen from me—from Nathan’s betrayal, to Freddy’s cruel words, and down to how helpless I feel every time I see Dad.
I might’ve lost control over everything else, but I can still control this .
Slowly, I strip my clothes off until I'm naked, and put Vadim’s suit jacket on. The cashmere wool feels like water against my skin. I run my fingers over the impeccable finish and stitching, and feel both my breath and heartbeat quickening at how reckless I’m about to be.
I line up my phone just enough to cover my eyes, and nothing else.
My heart races at the thought of what I'm about to do.
Reckless or not. It’s still my choice.
The camera shutter clicks, loud as a gunshot. With each picture, I feel myself growing bolder. I tease the lapel open to expose my breasts. I bite my lower lip to make it look like I'm in the throes of my own ecstasy.
But it still doesn't feel quite right.
It doesn't feel like it's enough.
I need something else.
Slowly, I lie back onto the bed and scoot up just a tiny bit so that all of me is visible in the mirror. With one trembling breath after another, I open my legs, thinking about the way he looked at me.
Have you considered serving yourself up like an appetizer to him?
I stick my index finger into my mouth and lick it, tasting the remnants of the cupcakes as my imagination starts taking over.
I suck my finger as I take one picture after another, wondering what Vadim might look like with his shirt off.
With those broad shoulders and powerful legs, he is yummy.
Wetness pools between my legs, and my breath starts coming out in small, ragged gasps.
Slowly, my finger moves from my mouth down to the gap between my legs, where my underwear is already damp. My lips part as I expose my pussy, and dip a single finger between its dripping folds.
The camera shutter clicks one final time.
And then, before I can stop myself from doing the most reckless thing I've ever done in my life, I text him that photo.
Putting my phone on Do Not Disturb , I throw it aside, close my eyes, and imagine Vadim slowly unzipping his pants as my fingers start dancing between my legs.