Exposed: Laid Bare: Volume 1

  Other Books by S.R. Grey

  The Harbour Falls Mysteries Trilogy

  Harbour Falls

  Willow Point

  Wickingham Way

  Judge Me Not Trilogy

  I Stand Before You

  Never Doubt Me

  Just Let Me Love You

  Inevitability Duology

  Inevitable Detour

  Inevitable Circumstances (coming May 2015)

  A sexy novella where things are not always as they appear. Enter the Laid Bare world only if you dare.

  There’s something about Lucien Chambers. Something beyond his amazing success, his good looks, and his uncanny ability to turn everything he touches to gold.

  In the eyes of the world, Lucien is a sexy and savvy business man. But when a naïve photographer, Dahlia Vaughn, is hired to take pictures of the hot entrepreneur, she discovers Mr. Chambers may be much more than what he seems.

  Just as I was taking in a sweeping gaze of the most magnificent Christmas party I’d ever attended, someone snuck up behind me and whispered in my ear, “You are such a little bitch, Dahlia.”

  “Veronica,” I huffed, annoyed.

  I tried to spin around to confront my verbal assailant—who also happened to be my best friend and cousin who delighted in driving me crazy—but before I could get my bearings, Veronica’s delicate, slender fingers slid over my eyes.

  Everything went black, but the smells and sounds of the holidays were still all around me. Eggnog and cinnamon scents punctuated the air, and the comforting lull of classic holiday tunes filled my ears. But with my sight obscured as it was, there would be no more gazing at the yards and yards of multi-colored, twinkling lights draped from the raw wood beam rafters above me, and no more admiring the sparkling, decorated fifteen-foot fir in the far corner of the large banquet hall the party was being held in.

  Prior to Veronica’s interruption, I’d been mesmerized by the tree with its shiny glass ornaments and bright lights adorning the branches. I found it amazing how the holiday glow made all the beautiful party guests look even more dazzling. Glamorous and sophisticated, all dressed in their holiday party finest and milling around, drinking too much champagne, having too much fun. But the glitz and glamour were momentarily hidden from me, thanks to Veronica’s hand over my eyes.

  “Are you done,” I inquired. I made my tone sound miffed, but I wasn’t, not really.

  “No, and don’t look now,” she replied from behind me, hand still in place.

  “As if I could,” I interjected as I shifted from one way-too-high stiletto heel to the other. “So, why am I a bitch?” I continued. “And why in God’s name are you still covering my eyes?”

  “First, you’re not really a bitch,” Veronica replied apologetically. “And secondly, the answer to your other question, my dear, just walked in the door.”

  Aha! Her answer, not to mention her tone, meant one thing and one thing only—he was here.

  Oh, boy.

  I pushed Veronica’s hand away, blinked twice, and peered through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to spot the man I sought, not with his commanding height and his room-filling presence. He radiated confidence and outshined even the loveliest of guests. With his coal-black hair and, seemingly, even darker eyes, combined with a lithe body and the best bone structure I’d ever seen on a man, Lucien Chambers was quite the male specimen. Still, I could barely believe what was so clearly in front of me—Mr. Chambers, guest of honor at this year’s Lucent Magazine bigwig holiday party, had actually taken it upon himself to grace everyone with his presence.

  Interesting.

  Lucien, entrepreneur, millionaire at age twenty-four—multi-millionaire three years later—was successful and loaded. And at age twenty-nine, as of last month, he’d been declared Chicago’s most eligible bachelor.

  Well, he definitely deserved the title. Lucien was rich, stunning to look at, and available. I’d previously read that he dated frequently—usually beautiful models, of course—but he’d never gotten married. Perhaps he’d just never found the right one.

  No surprise there. I imagined a man such as Lucien would possess rather discerning tastes.

  Glancing over at my beautiful cousin, I thought about how Veronica would have been a good match for Lucien. With platinum blonde hair that flowed to her waist, a killer body, and icy blue eyes, she was almost as stunning as Lucien…almost. Oh well. Too bad she was engaged.

  I returned my attention back to the situation at hand, murmuring, “Hmm, this is unusual.”

  “What?” I could feel Veronica’s cool blue eyes on me, assessing.

  “Nobody thought Mr. Chambers would put in an appearance tonight, given his reclusive nature.”

  “Well, he’s here,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  Yes, he sure was. And—uh-oh—he was currently walking my way.

  “Shit,” I hissed rather loudly.

  Veronica paid me no heed, though. She was too busy leaning into me and whispering in my ear, “Oh, Dahl, just look at him. That man is so damn sexy.”

  “I am looking,” I said.

  And, oh, was I ever. It was almost impossible not to stare, as Lucien was one smoking hot man. And tonight he looked especially magnificent in his dark gray suit, the ritzy fabric allowing his body to move elegantly and fluidly.

  “Wow,” I sighed. “He is impressive, right?”

  “For sure,” Veronica murmured.

  There was something more about the man, though, something beyond his great looks that made him so appealing. Lucien was a man with great confidence.

  Conversely, I was the exact opposite—a woman with very little confidence.

  So, of course, as he neared me, I spun around and grabbed up Veronica’s hand. “Quick,” I said, “let’s get out of here.”

  “What? Why? Are you crazy?” was Veronica’s certainly understandable response. She tried to twist away, but I kept my hold firm.

  “Come on,” I urged once more, this time tugging for effect. “Please, V.”

  Veronica held steady, but her voice turned soft and understanding when she said, “Why don’t you want to meet him tonight, Dahlia? You’ll be working with the man soon enough.”

  “That’s exactly why I don’t want to meet him,” I replied.

  I tugged Veronica’s arm again to get her moving, and added, “You know my rules.”

  Finally, that got her moving. And just in time, as Lucien was gaining ground.

  “Okay, okay,” Veronica said as I turned us away at the same second Lucien’s searing gaze connected with mine.

  Too late, I’m outta here, my parting glance conveyed.

  As I dragged my cousin in the direction of the rest rooms—surely a safe spot—she murmured under her breath, “How could I have forgotten about you and your weird idiosyncrasies?”

  Okay, yes, she had a point. I was a little weird about my work, quirky even, but my weirdness kept my creativity at play. I am a photographer, you see, and a damn good one. Not meeting my subjects before taking their picture is an integral part of my creative process. I prefer to go in to photo shoots cold. That way I learn my subject as I work. It makes for a better outcome, and I have the award-winning photographs to prove it.

  “Come on,” I hurried my cousin along, toward an alcove with a tastefully small, gold plate engraved with the word Ladies.

  “Calm down,” she said. “He’s not following us now. He stopped to talk with someone.”

  “He may catch up,” I replied, worried.

  “Oh, Dahlia…” Veronica shook her head.

  She was sweet to indulge me, but she understood my idiosyncrasies. Veronica is a photographer too, and has her own quirks to contend with. The two of us freelance a
round the city. My cousin is good, very talented, but I am better. Not to brag, it just is what it is. That’s why I was awarded the prestigious gig of shooting Lucien Chambers the day after Christmas.

  Interacting with him in seven more days would be soon enough. I’d have time to build up my courage by then and, hopefully, not make a fool of myself. Photographing Mr. Chambers—for a piece Lucent Magazine was running on him and his many business successes—had the power to make or break my career. He gave so few interviews and rarely allowed himself to be photographed, so this was a coup. The only reason he agreed to this news piece was because he’d recently bought a stake in the magazine.

  Needless to say, I was nervous as hell. I could not screw up this job.

  “I still can’t believe you’re passing up the chance to meet Lucien Chambers,” Veronica mused out loud. “Surely, a little preview won’t mess with your wacky ways.”

  “I’ll meet him next week at the shoot,” I maintained, keeping Veronica moving through the crowd and away from Mr. Eligible Bachelor.

  Finally, we reached the ladies room. I hurried in, Veronica in tow, and closed the door behind us.

  Turning to me, Veronica rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re safe now. I doubt he’ll dare step in here.” She gestured around at all the feminine décor in the ornate facility. “There is way too much estrogen in this room for any man.”

  “I think you’re right,” I agreed, smiling at all the flowery and frilly detail everywhere.

  Stepping over to one of the many floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the walls, I let out a sigh of relief.

  But when I took in my reflection—seeing only disheveled auburn hair and green eyes with lashes in dire need of a mascara touch-up—I murmured dejectedly, “Damn, I’m glad he didn’t catch up to us. Ugh. Look at me, Veronica, I’m a mess.”

  “Oh, you’re fine,” she said.

  But, quietly, after a beat, I disagreed and added, “No wonder I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  My cousin stepped over to me and leaned her head against my shoulder. Lovingly, she adjusted the ruby red spaghetti strap of my silk dress. “You look beautiful, as always, Dahl. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “Maybe,” I mused, leaning my head to hers. “Too bad no man wants me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yeah, it kind of is.”

  Veronica sighed. “You’re gorgeous, hon, but you are a little too picky for your own good.”

  Now, it was my turn to sigh, because, sadly, she was correct. I was mighty choosy. A few dates, a couple of vanilla kisses. That was my experience in the areas of love, lust, and men. And it was all because my standards were pretty much unattainable.

  Not that I had any standards defined, not exactly. Still, it was as if there was this little voice in my head urging me to wait.

  I was waiting for something…or someone. I just didn’t know which one. In any case, I sure hoped that that something—or someone—happened soon.

  Mostly because being a virgin at the age of twenty-six was beginning to feel downright embarrassing.

  I had successfully avoided Lucien at the Christmas party, but he was still on my mind.

  Over the next few days, I busied myself with researching him, as per my process. Despite the fact I didn’t like to meet my future subjects, I did enjoy thoroughly researching them. Unfortunately, I was finding it surprisingly difficult to come up with much of anything on the elusive Lucien Chambers. Sure, I had all his basic stats—age, occupation, businesses he owned—but I needed to delve deeper. I wanted to find more info regarding Lucien’s early years. That task, however, was proving to be quite a feat.

  Odd.

  From the scant articles I was able to dig up I learned Lucien was born to a Spanish mother and an English father. He had no siblings, and his parents still lived in his hometown of London. They were wealthy—very wealthy—people. Business moguls just like Lucien.

  And that was it.

  Those few basic facts were all I could find on the Chambers family, leading me to conclude Lucien’s parents were just as reclusive and secretive as their son.

  After a final attempt at digging, where I wished I was more of a sleuth like Veronica, I managed to stumble across one article that provided me with slightly more detail on Lucien. It seemed at the age of eighteen, the young Mr. Chambers was determined to make it on his own terms. Consequently, he immigrated to the United States, started an import-export business, and ended up making a name for himself rather rapidly.

  The rest of that story I knew. Lucien was involved in all sorts of businesses—manufacturing, retail, and his most recent foray into magazine publishing. Lucent magazine, formerly known as Chicago Now!, had been failing miserably until Lucien stepped in. He changed the name and, over the course of a few months, turned the magazine around. It was a glossy must-have these days.

  Fascinating, I thought. It seemed everything Lucien Chambers touched turned to gold.

  The other thing I found bizarre was that there were so few photographs of him. Lucien truly seemed to abhor the spotlight, despite the fact he was so incredibly photogenic.

  The photos I could find of him—photographs that appeared to be re-circulated and used over and over again—were nothing short of stunning.

  So, wow, what a coup it was for me that I was actually going to be photographing Lucien…and in only two days.

  The only thing left was to finalize the logistics.

  Picking up my cell phone, I called my agent, Shannon. She had secured the gig for me, and she was in charge of the details.

  “Dahlia?” she said as she answered on the second ring. “Hold on a sec, dear.”

  “Okay,” I replied

  She was always putting me on hold, so I was used to it. I heard her mumble something to someone in the background, and then she got back to me.

  “I’m glad you called,” she began. “I was actually about to call you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I heard from Mr. Chamber’s people and have directions to the shoot for you.”

  “Great.” I grabbed up a pen and paper. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  As I jotted down the road names and turns I’d need to make, I realized I was writing out directions that would lead me to an area north of Chicago. And that made no sense.

  “Wait,” I interrupted, dropping the pen. “I’m not familiar with any studios up in that area.”

  Having worked in Chicago for quite some time, I knew every photography studio in a hundred mile radius of the town, and this address didn’t ring a single bell.

  Shannon cleared her throat. “Uh, Mr. Chambers didn’t like the studio idea.”

  “Oh, he didn’t?” I let out an odd little laugh. Nervous or annoyed, I couldn’t be sure.

  “No,” Shannon continued. “And he specifically requested this location as an alternative.”

  “Okay.” I spoke slowly and shrugged as I picked up the pen I’d dropped to the desk. “So, where am I going? Where does Mr. Chambers want the shoot to take place?”

  “At his house,” Shannon replied.

  The day after Christmas, I discovered Lucien Chambers’ house was hardly just a house. It was more like a freaking mansion.

  Driving through the gilt-edged gates and up along the long driveway in my little hybrid economy car made me feel small and insignificant. I couldn’t help it, as the driveway looked like a long, black asphalt tongue, and I half-expected it to roll up and spit me back out onto the street, screaming at me the whole way, “You don’t belong here! Get out!”

  Obviously, though, that did not happen.

  Despite my overactive imagination, I made it without incident to the entrance of Lucien’s Tudor mansion. But before I had the chance to turn off the ignition, a valet appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and strode up to the car.

  Where had he come from?

  The trim, gray-haired man motioned for me to roll down my window, and I murmured a startled, “Oh,” as I obliged him
.

  “Welcome, Miss Vaughn,” he said with a tip of his fuzzy charcoal beret.

  With the window glass lowered, a bitter breeze blew in.

  Ignoring the cold, I replied, “I’m sorry, sir, that I didn’t see you right away. Were you behind those bushes?”

  I nodded to a long, bare hedgerow, but he gave me no response. Instead, he smiled kindly.

  I blew out a breath, and started to open the car door. Mr. Valet quickly took over, swinging the door wide, and saying, “Do hurry, Miss Vaughn, Mr. Chambers doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “I bet,” I murmured under my breath as I gathered up my camera cases. When I got out of the car my body began to shiver.

  Noting the setting, low-in-the-sky winter sun, and in an awkward attempt to make conversation, I remarked, “Wow, the days sure are short this time of year, aren’t they?”

  The valet nodded. “Yes, miss, indeed they are.” He then slid into the driver’s seat of my car, and continued, “Mr. Chambers is waiting inside for you. He requested that you proceed to the front door and knock once.”

  I supposed that was my cue to go, so I gave the valet a small wave, hoisted my camera bags high on my shoulder, and walked away.

  The wind roared and the trees creaked as I hurried across the driveway to the wide concrete steps leading up to the mansion. With a sudden, inexplicable chill that came from within, I reached the base of the steps and peered upward.

  With trepidation, I started my ascent, and with every step I took it seemed the air grew colder and colder. The winds got in on the act, too, roaring and whistling through the bare trees. By the time I reached the massive, dark wood double doors at the top of the steps, my teeth were chattering.

  “Shit, I’m freezing,” I bit out.

  Tugging at the lapels of my heavy woolen coat made not a bit of difference, so I resorted to wrapping my arms around myself and bouncing up and down on my toes. The camera bags tapped at my right hip over and over, not unlike a nudging warning to flee.

  But something made me stay, some inexplicable feeling.